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The forest outside grew increasingly docile, as the moon ascended higher in the sky. The same could be said for the man lying beyond your thin wall. You hadn't heard anything from Feitan in the past three hours. Except for a slight rustle of the sheet, and an occasional light snore.
Other than that, your unusually perceptive ear hadn't picked up on anything out of the ordinary. His breathing was calm and rhythmic – you confirmed once more – Feitan was asleep.
Inhaling a deep breath, you forced your body up from the mattress beneath you. Now was not the time for cowardice. A new opportunity had finally presented itself after weeks of twiddling your thumbs.
Tonight, you were to kill Feitan.
The wooden floor was cold against your soles. Placing both hands on the mattress, you lifted it off the bedframe, revealing a shining kitchen knife. You had stored it here well in advance. Retrieving and hiding it without drawing the suspicion of your captor had taken great effort. It had been a mission of itself. That you were finally to use it for your intended purpose sent chills down your back.
Embracing its smooth handle in your palm, you turned to leave your cramped bedroom, pushing the door open. You had made it a habit to leave your door slightly ajar – a practice artificially crafted in preparation for this occasion. Not having to push down the door handle made sneaking out quieter. Sure, it might seem insignificant, but you wouldn't put anything past Feitan. You only hoped your steps were sufficiently quiet – hopefully drowned out by the teeth-rattling wind outside.
Standing face to face with the dark wooden door, came the real problem. Now you had to grab his door handle, and push open his door. This was an issue you had failed to work out. Telling Feitan directly never to close his door had been out of the question. That would have been far too suspicious, admittedly you were also afraid of his reaction if you were to make such a request.
Even though he had been the one to take you and locked you up in this place, he seemed rather uninterested in you, mysteriously so. It was a query you tried to solve in your earliest days here. Though you had long since given up. His antisocial personality meant that you hardly knew this captor of yours, and perhaps that was for the best.
The door before you stood like an impossibly tall mountain, one you had no chance of scaling – especially without emerging on the other side puffing for air. It felt as if your legs were about to give out. You considered going back to your bed and pretend this whole ordeal never happened.
Your lightheadedness grew by the moment.
Who knows what Feitan would do if you went through with your plan, only to slip up mid execution. It wasn't as if you couldn't hear what he was up to down in that basement he so loved to spend his time in. You wonder if that's his only reference to an actual social interaction. Every time you tried to block out the noises, the efforts were all futile. You couldn't stop your ears from taking in the sound – those agonizing screams. No amount of time would ever make those memories dissipate. Surely you would be next on the list.
No, you wouldn't let this stop you, not again. So what if the door creaked? So be it. This darn old, shabby cabin already creaked like a ghoul from the wind outside.
Calming your nerves, you pressed down the handle with one determined move. Then, slowly, with more caution than you knew you possessed, you swung the door open.
The sight before you, eased your mind, if only so slightly.
He was still unconscious, lost in the realm of dreams. No sign showed that he would wake up any time soon. Yet your heart continued to beat with such force you feared it would rip through your skin. The peaceful look he wore unsettled you to the bone. How could a man such as he – someone responsible for countless shattered lives, including your own – look so innocent? Memories of your old life flashed.
How could the Universe allow a criminal, a murderer, to sleep so peacefully? Do his atrocities weigh nothing on him?
Glancing down at the kitchen knife, you were surprised by the sight. Tears were rolling down your face. Digging your nails into your palm, you forced down the sobs and tightened your grasp on the knife.
So you began the journey to the void of his bedside.
This scene had replayed in your head time and again for weeks on end. You had run the scenario over and over, divining every possible outcome. But now this was real life. Staring at the body in front of you made your stomach churn.
The weapon was now raised above your head. Your fingers curled around the handle, your hands clammy and your arms shaky. You intended to pierce his heart. Soon, with one swift stab, this would all be over – you would finally be free. And no more will have to suffer under his wrath.
In a single, decisive move, you thrust the knife down—
—you blink.
The knife is stabbed deep into the bedsheet. The body the hit was meant for, gone.
That's when you feel a breath against your ear. It's warm. Yet goosebumps instantly spread across your skin. You haven't even had the chance to process the situation before sharp nails sting the side of your neck. An oppressive aura fills every corner of the room.
This cannot be.
“Didn't think you would dare.”
No, he's no human!
“You actually try to kill me this time.”
Your blood runs cold. You actually tried to kill me this time? Has he known about your plans all along? …How? You glance to the side, trying your best to catch a glimpse of the figure positioned behind you.
But the movement doesn't escape Feitan's notice. He grabs the back of your hair and pulls it, tilting your head up with the motion.
He snickers, his voice laced with sadism.
“Dumber than I thought.”