The dark web -Part 3

He pressed his ear to the vase; he pressed it literally because he felt the rough surface against his ear. And, with some delicacy, he shook it up and down. Nothing. Not even a simple rattle. What if there's another message inside? A message in a bottle, very original. He placed it on the table. The inside of the vase was protected by a simple wooden stopper. Mariano held it by the neck and gripped the cork with the help of his index finger and thumb.

The living room started to spin.

Mariano sank into the armchair as if his body were being devoured by quicksand. His vision blurred. The table, along with everything else, became an abstract canvas. He stumbled, and his hands released the vase. Then, slowly, the world returned to normal. Mariano noticed something strange; his right arm had gone numb. The tingling, like a weak electric current, disappeared after a few seconds.

What the hell had just happened?

Was there something in the cork? Poison, burundanga, the date-rape drug, he thought instantly. He dismissed it; it was just his paranoia. There had to be a rational explanation for what had happened. You don't get as dizzy as in a monumental drunk for no reason. Mariano had an idea. Three days ago, he had attended a private party, and to put it delicately, he had a blast. He remembered drinking, but more importantly, smoking marijuana. He smoked like there was no tomorrow. That was the cause. It had never happened to him, but friends had told him that the effects of marijuana could return briefly days after consumption. Mariano thought it was an urban legend, but he couldn't deny that he had just experienced an episode; something to talk about at the next party he attended.

Having given a satisfactory explanation to that event, he focused on the vase again: without money, there wouldn't be another party on the horizon, and he needed to record a video to earn money. He grabbed the stopper again.

He felt the claws of a beast fighting to escape from its confinement.

"Coming, just wait a second!" he shouted to the cat. Leon was scratching the door to the bedroom, and judging by the rattling of the doorknob, he was jumping up with the intention of opening it.

It wouldn't budge. The cork was tightly wedged and kept slipping from his fingertips. He clenched his jaw, and he pressed it forcefully until his fingers turned white. And he pulled it.

He uncorked it.

A swirl of dust slapped him in the face.

An impure soul attacked him.

Mariano pulled his face away and shook one hand to disperse the dust. Despite his efforts, he couldn't prevent it from entering his mouth and nostrils.

His body was corrupted.

He coughed. His eyes turned as red as when he got high, and the burning made him shed a few tears. He felt his airways freezing; the stale air seemed refrigerated.

He stood up to move away from the pile of dirt.

The remains of the miasma of the infamous entity.

He walked around the coffee table and approached the balcony window. When he got a breath of fresh air, he breathed a sigh of relief. His lungs were clearing up.

It had managed to lodge itself.

Mariano wanted to return to the armchair, but he was paralyzed.

A sharp headache pounded his skull. The pain was intense; he had never felt anything like it. In his surprise, he bit his tongue, and the metallic taste of blood washed over his mouth.

At that moment, he thought of his name: MARIANO.

It whispered to his host.

It was as if a thousand pins were being stuck into his head. He cursed into the air and began to groan in pain. And the cat continued to scratch at the door. Mariano heard his name over and over again, faster and more intense each time, maddening. The doorknob rattled and shook; Leon tried to get out. Hunched over like a hunchback and sliding down the wall, Mariano managed to get to the bedroom and let the cat out.

The animal bolted out like the devil was after it.

The devil tormented his master.

In Mariano's mind, the voice reminded him of the snake language in Harry Potter, but distorted. The voice made him grind his teeth. And it didn't stop. Now whatever it was in his head was shouting. The cat was hissing from somewhere, but Mariano couldn't hear it. He felt his way to the armchair, his eyes wouldn't open due to the pain. Leon jumped onto the armchair ahead of him and confronted Mariano. His fur was standing on end, and he was showing his teeth. A claw swiped across the space between them and tore Mariano's Bart Simpson shirt.

He couldn't think; every idea was overshadowed and crushed by the infernal voice. He could barely sense the cat, but its restlessness made him even more nervous. Mariano headed for the window that led to the balcony. On the way, he hit his leg on the table. The pain was intense, but for a brief moment, the voice in his head disappeared. With an enormous effort, he managed to raise the blinds. The constant murmur of Buenos Aires invaded the apartment. Mariano collapsed in the armchair, praying for everyone to be quiet. His face was covered in sweat, and his forehead burned with fever. His head throbbed like a drum.

When he thought he couldn't hold out any longer, he passed out.

If Mariano had had a security camera in the living room, he could have seen what happened seconds after he lost consciousness:

Leon ran and leaped, almost climbing up the walls. The poor animal wanted to escape; his survival instincts were in the red. Every fiber of his wild being trembled, agitated by fear; he was a few meters away from a dangerous creature, a very dangerous one. In short, the cat was desperate. The moment he saw the balcony within reach, his paws shot him toward freedom. With a pounding heart and his senses muddled by fear, he couldn't stop.

And he plummeted.

Unfortunately, the apartment was on the eighth floor of the building.

The constant murmur of the city was broken by the surprised and horrified scream of a woman walking on the sidewalk, who witnessed the death of the animal. To prove the prowess of his species, Leon landed on his feet, but gravity glued him to the ground as if he were in a cartoon.

When Mariano regained consciousness, he woke up in shock, as if he had had a nightmare. He discovered the death of his pet several hours later. A woman who lived in the building, and had seen the cat sunbathing on Mariano's balcony on several occasions, took the trouble to call him through the doorman and tell him about the tragedy.

And although he loved Leon, the news hit him like a bucket of cold water, but another problem was tormenting him from within.