Dark Explorations

(Sofia POV)

Why can’t I fucking sleep!? It’s been getting worse every night. It’s like this couch just carries the essence of insomnia in it. Ever since that night on Monday, I just can’t get that picture out of my head. It was near four in the morning at this point. I’ve never been afraid to go to bed late, but this is ridiculous. If anything, I want to sleep more just to stop thinking about him. Ever since I saw Alan’s video about me, his memory keeps returning. I thought I was past all this. I know I’m not a good person. I like to hurt people. If there's a heaven or a hell, I’m going to hell. And that’s fine with me. I just want to be free, no matter what.

Why was my chest hurting thinking about that fact? I pushed off of the couch and sat up. The room was pitch black, but my eyes have had time to adjust all night. They’ve been good at that ever since the contract was made. Most of my belongings were still in my backpack. I didn’t want to admit that I was staying here by unpacking any more than necessary. I stood up and walked over to where it lay against the wall. My pack of cigarettes was in a front pocket with my lighter. I grabbed the pack and was met with a painful reminder, only one left. I whispered a profanity to myself before taking it out, crushing the package, and throwing it on the coffee table.

I sat back down on the couch and lit it up. Alan told me to not smoke in his apartment, but he’s asleep and I don’t give a fuck. I took a long and slow drag, letting the smoke rest in my lungs as it burned sweetly. I breathed it out slowly and watched as it slowly rose to the ceiling before disappearing from my vision. I reached under the couch. When Alan was taking down his conspiracy board, I grabbed this. I can’t tell you why. It was instinctual and me hiding it under the couch cushions was as well. It was a singular photograph. The man in it was tall, young, and handsome. He had short black hair, piercings in his ears, and joy in his smile. He wore a pair of jeans and a Green Day shirt, his favorite band. I took another slow drag while the light of the cigarette kept the photo just barely visible.

His name was Jonathon Riley and I killed him. We met on one of those online communities, I couldn’t remember which specifically all these years later. We talked a lot, then called a lot, and at some point it became dates. He was twenty and I was fifteen-turning-sixteen. I knew the ages were a problem, but I didn’t care. He was the first person to tell me he liked my hair cut short. Or me wearing pants instead of dresses. He was happy to talk about music and horror with me. He was something I never had, someone who cared about me for me. Not what I was meant to be.

I set the photo down on the coffee table. I grabbed the tv remote and was flashed by the bright light as it came to life. I directed it to go to YouTube and I pulled up Dark Explorations. I muted the tv so I wouldn’t hear Alan’s voice. I found the video about me and fast-forwarded it until I got to what I wanted; the entire camera footage of that night with Jonathon there uninterrupted and unedited. I found the right part and set down the remote. Jonathan was in frame lying against his car waiting for me. I was forty-five minutes late and I was so happy he hadn’t left me. I ran towards him and jumped in his arms. I was six feet tall, but he was six feet four inches, I snuggled right into his tall chest and began to cry. I was so god damn happy. I was nothing more than a child back then and I really thought this man was perfect. Jonathan could do no wrong and accept me no matter what scars exist. I looked upwards and he looked down at me, it was like a movie when we kissed. There was no audio with the video, but I could hear everything like it was still happening.

“I was scared, baby. Scared something happened.”

He was not a stoic. He was in tune with his emotions and I could see tears were waiting behind his big puppy dog eyes. I found myself crying just looking at them. He was right. Something did happen. That didn’t matter though. We were finally together.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m here now. We can finally run away together.”

I didn’t want to let go of him, but he slowly let his grip go and he began to really look at me. His wide smile slowly faded as he watched me. The joy in his eyes grew confused then worried. His voice trembled as he spoke.

“Baby, what’s on your clothes?”

I looked down and saw a few drops of blood were on them. I must have missed those when I left the house. It’s okay though. Jonathan will understand and he’ll help me. He said he always would. Even if it meant digging a grave.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re together now. Let’s go and leave it all behind.”

He didn’t match my joy. Something was changing behind his eyes and I didn’t understand it. He met mine and I saw what it was; fear. Why was he afraid suddenly?

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Please talk to me, baby. Why are you afraid? What did I do that’s scaring you?

“Whose blood is that?”

His hands were shaking. They had been holding me, but now they let go and were hesitating. Why did he ask such a question? Wasn’t it obvious? He told me he’d bury a body for me. Why was he scared now?

“It’s mom’s. And dad’s. And all my siblings. My family tried to stop me. But I didn’t let them. I wouldn’t let them separate us.”

Please understand, baby. Everything will be okay. We can go and never be found. Why are you moving away? What are you reaching for in your car?

“What are you doing, baby?”

I just acted. I needed to. I couldn’t let him ruin this. I was free. He could’ve let us live happily ever after like he promised. We were meant to run away together and tour the country. We would listen to music, party all night, make love like bohemians, and live freer than birds. Instead, he died face down on the concrete. I killed him. Why did you make me do this?

I inhaled the last breath of smoke from the cigarette bud. I looked at the weak light emanating from it and pulled up my left sleeve. I squashed the dying fire on my own skin, marking it among other tiny burnt craters. It was a small wave of pleasure that gave me shivers as the video continued playing in the background. God, I can’t keep thinking about these things. It’s a decade ago, long gone and done with.

I stood up and grabbed the photo from the coffee table. I walked over towards the kitchen and found the trash can. I tossed the cigarette bud in and held the photo out over as well. I wanted to drop it in and forget about it again, but my hand wouldn’t let me. It was as if Jonathon’s ghost won’t let me be for some reason. Why now? Was it this asshole, Alan? Why did he need to dig up all this dirt on me and revive these old memories? I wanted nothing more than to bleach my brain and forget everything then strangle that bastard for putting me through this. Damn that fucking protection clause and that bastard for being put on it by that fucking demon of a boss.

I finally pulled away from the trash and slid the photo beneath the couch cushion again. I turned off the tv and allowed the darkness to consume the room again. I laid down again on the couch and closed my eyes. I wanted nothing to do with this place. I wanted to be left alone and to pretend it doesn’t exist. Instead, I’m here and told I can’t leave like a caged bird. Maybe I feel this way because those were the same rules with mom. It sounds far too familiar and I can’t fucking stand it.

At least Alan isn’t as bad as mom. It’s the lowest bar on the fucking earth to rise above, but he did do it. He doesn’t grab my hair and beats me for talking back, doesn’t yell at me because I can’t remember bible passages, doesn’t let the pastor reach into my pants. Roommate of the year award in comparison. Is this why you’re looking at me like that Jonathon? Because I want nothing to do with him? He didn’t know about any of this. He’s an innocent bystander who accidentally got caught in my life. He shouldn’t be stuck with me babysitting him or with me trapped in his tiny ass apartment.

I guess you’re right that he doesn’t deserve my anger. It’s not his fault for me being here. He’s been nothing but nice since I got here. He helps me with laundry. Makes me food. Always asks if I’m comfortable or need anything. He seems genuinely interested in my answers as well. Maybe that’s just because he wants more information for another video though. I have no reason to trust he’s genuine. If he is, he would be the second person in my life ever to care like that. The only one other than Alan is… Jonathan.

Why am I making that comparison? They are not alike in any way. What worm crawled into my mind said these thoughts. I swear he’s fucking with me. That bastard is doing something to keep me up. He's a smart guy, I’m sure he’s manipulating me somehow. I just can’t figure out how. God, I really need to just go to sleep.