He Cuts His Way

Lawrence closed the door behind him with a huff, his arms ached, and his legs wiggled. Depositing his things in a nearby chair, he didn't bother trying to make it look neat; he just let it all fall. Dragging himself to the small kitchen in his apartment, he sat down at the bar curling his legs up to the wooden beam of the chair to let them recover. It wouldn't take long for his stomach to protest his lack of empathy towards it and their mutual need for food.

The sun was long gone, winking down below the horizon a while ago, and Lawrence was left bathed in darkness, not bothering to turn on a light. A need for food urged him forward with little thought or care for how it got to him. Stumbling further into the kitchen, he pulled out some supplies and started on something simple to eat. There wasn't a conscious thought in his head. Everything was automatic at this point.

Finally, everything was finished, and he could sit down again. While he ate, Lawrance wondered how long he could keep up this pace. Such a miserable existence to work morning to night, barely making enough to live on. He longed for a better life where he didn't have to worry about anything. Maybe he wasn't concerned about his next meal… But he still felt like something was missing. What purpose did he live for?

Maybe that was it. These thoughts increasingly buzzed around Lawrence's head as he gained sustenance and felt his body kicking back into gear. It wasn't long before he felt better. At least the pain in his stomach was gone, and he could think straight again. Standing up, he slipped into his bedroom and undressed before putting on loose pants and a white tank top.

A soft knock at the door caught his attention as he looked into the mirror, contemplating his next moves. He hadn't been expecting anyone, but maybe one of his co-workers had stopped by to drop something off. It didn't happen often, but sometimes he would forget something at the building or a project he was supposed to be working on. Sliding back through his apartment with groggy eyes, Lawrence made it to the door. He opened it quickly, expecting to find someone standing there, ready to give him something.

"Hello?" He pre-emptively said. But no one stood outside his door. He raised an eyebrow poking his head out and looking up and down the hallway, trying to find a body or something to help explain this strange situation. Lawrence lived in the middle of the hallway, so there was no way someone could ring and dash away that quickly. He'd have at least seen a blur or something. Unless the person trying to prank him was some kind of Olympic athlete and broke a world record to the end of the hallway, he highly doubted that.

He was about to close the door when something caught his eye, and it took him a second to finally realize he wasn't going crazy. A slim package sat on his doormat, crimson red and elegantly topped with a bow. Reaching down, he picked up the parcel. He looked it over carefully, trying to find a tag or something to indicate the sender. The back of his mind was irked as he looked at the package. Lawrence recoiled away from it for some unknown reason before poking his head back outside one last time to try and find whoever delivered the box. Nothing changed, and he stared at an empty hallway, desperate for answers.

Stepping back into his apartment, he gently set the crimson parcel down on the counter and stared at it awhile. Everything about this situation sent eerie waves through him, causing his skin to bunch up into tiny hills and annoy him further. Indeed he shouldn't be scared of a package. Maybe he had just taken longer than he first thought to reach the door. After all, he was drained. That has to be it. Lawrence doesn't remember taking forever to get to the door, but he'd likely given them plenty of time to leave the box and head on their merry way.

Deep within Lawrence's gut, he knew this couldn't be true. Yes, he was tired, but not that groggy quite yet. He had gone to the door rather swiftly upon hearing the knock. There was no way someone made a getaway that quickly. His rational side silenced these thoughts, refusing to let himself get spooked, and he focused back on the package in front of him.

After some thought, he figured it wasn't a trap. He was a nobody. Why would anyone want to kill him? Lawrence never rocked the boat, and he never spoke out. In fact, he has a rather sad existence at best, a story for another time. More importantly, Lawrence isn't rich, rent barely comes in each month, and food usually finds its way into his apartment. He isn't poor, but there is a big difference between rich and slightly comfortable. Lawrence doesn't have to worry about having a job or sleeping on the streets any time soon.

Despite all the rationalization, this eldritch feeling remained from the blood-red box that glared up at him, pushing the poor man to open it. Reaching his hand down, he swiftly took the bow off. He flinched back half, expecting something to happen. Still, when it didn't, Lawrence gained confidence, allowing him to tear the rest of the package open and gaze upon its content.

Finding himself no longer frightened, everything was replaced with confusion. Inside sat a pair of silver scissors, finely made and well-kept. There wasn't a single dirty spot on it or a hint of rust. It gleamed in what little light shined from the various Christmas lights Lawrence had set up in his apartment for the darkness of night. He picked them up and felt a wave of pure chill crash over him, and Lawrence dropped them instantly back into the box. It had been so strong, nothing like touching typical cold metal. It felt like his hand was taken to the arctic and refused to return.

Holding his hand tightly, the cold feeling resonated inside his skin. He hated it, desperately wishing to cut his hand off to stop it. Running over to the sink, he thrust his hand under a flow of hot water in a desperate attempt to stave off the feeling. To his surprise, the water did help, and the chilling sensation retreated from his nerves, and he could calm down.

However, if he hadn't been so distracted, Lawrence would have noticed something stirred from within the box behind him. It woke up with his touch, taking some of his warmth and using it to spawn from its original state. Stepping from the tiny box, it slowly grew until it stood tall enough to cast a shadow over Lawrence, but when the poor man turned to look, it slipped away, hiding within a supernatural veil that didn't make sense to Lawrence's primitive eyes.

His head reeled for a moment, and he was sure something had been standing behind him. Walking back to the box, Lawrence gasped as he found the scissors missing. He whipped around quickly, searching every inch of his apartment for an intruder but finding no one. Panic began rising inside him. Someone was in his apartment and had a weapon. Keeping his head on a swivel, he kept looking around him, determined not to be caught unaware, slowly inching towards the door, ready for someone to jump on him. Self-defense might not be his specialty, but Lawrence was no fool.

Little did he know the creature stood close to him, hidden from his eyes. This entity watched him, assessing the individual and preparing for the pleasure it sought from this encounter. Holding the scissors in its hands, the creature began to push and pull against the metal rings causing the blades to open and close with a crisp, clear sound that transcended the entity's location and lilted into Lawrence's ears.

A chill ran through his spine as he registered the sound and began to understand it. The only thing that kept him from bolting to the door was the confusion that set in at realizing how close the noise was. He turned his head, scanning for the source but couldn't catch a glimpse of anything strange. Feeling his hand brush against the wooden door, Lawrence turned around and, in one swift motion, practically yanked the door off its hinged, trying to escape into the hallway.

However, his observant eyes and quick reaction kept him from falling into a sea of dark storm clouds. The hallway he had grown so familiar with all these years, coming home after endless work hours, was no longer there. Replacing the typical landscape was an endless abyss. The only part that seemed alive was the rolling gloom beneath him that stretched on for miles until his eyes failed him. Not knowing what else to do, he backed away from the door, leaving it open, as he shook head to toe. Intense fear began to course through him as the realization that he was trapped washed through his veins, turning him cold as ice. As far as he knew, whatever was in his apartment had all the time in the world, and they intended to use it for their own sadistic pleasure.

Looking out the door, Lawrence determined he wasn't hallucinating. He closed it slowly, turning away from the portal and gazing around his apartment again, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of anything. They could be around any corner hiding in the darkness or behind any piece of furniture. Who knows where they positioned themselves while he had his back turned looking out the door. He was grasping at straws, which drove him crazy trying to figure out what to do next. Every nerve in his system refused to back down, transmitting the message of danger that pulsed through him, making his head hurt with all this tension.

The creature hid in the kitchen behind the island, watching Lawrence. There was no longer a veil between them, the human had been drawn into the In-Between, and the entity wasn't quite ready to reveal itself. It enjoyed this sense of cat and mouse watching the human suffer in ignorance and fear.

His heart pounded as he stood there, but Lawrence wasn't given much time to process what was happening or what to do next. His move was made for him. The bathroom light switched on, faintly glimmering through the bedroom and washing over the living room. He jerked back in fear as it flicked on, then calmed himself, realizing it was nothing more than light. However, unease seeped back into him without knowing who or what turned it on. Ambling into the living room, he let his head slowly peer around the corner to ensure something wasn't waiting for him.

The shower turned on in his tardiness to get to the bathroom and assess the situation. Its faint hissing noise filtered into the bedroom as Lawrence paused again at the entrance, blood rushing around his ears. He'd never been in a situation like this before, the fear gripping him as he felt his end was around every corner. Finding his resolve again, Lawrence continued toward the sound of running water and humming LED lights. Slipping through the open door, he quickly looked left and right, confirming what he already knew. No one waited for him inside the white-tiled room. It was empty as the desert with no signs of life.

The shower rained down a torrent into the drain as he reached for the handle to turn it off. The steam was already infecting the air and clouding his vision, so he fought to stop the water for a few minutes before realizing it wasn't stopping. Perring through the thick clouds, he noticed in a panic that the handle had been in the off position this entire time.

It agitated him greatly how the shower refused to listen to his commands but, more importantly, to see all that water wasted. His irritable state didn't last long as horror began to rise inside Lawrence. The water stopped going down and started to choke up. He stepped back, nearly falling into the sink as he lost his footing. Lawrence's eyes refused to leave the drain as it bubbled up momentarily and then spilled over onto the white tile, leaving the shower roaming the floor. To make matters worse, the water was scalding hot, and as it touched his foot, Lawrence screamed out in pain and jumped onto the sink, trying to avoid the lava-like liquid. Pulling up his foot, he observed that it was red like a forge master's iron.

The hot water wasn't the only issue now, the steam was quickly rising from the boiling water, and the intense amount of chlorine that infested the gas began to sting his eyes and tickle his throat. Lawrence began to rub his eyes and cough uncontrollably while trying not to slip off the wet counter that grew slick from all the condensation that gathered from the mist and seeped down the mirror.

His mind was racing to try and find a solution, the absolute state of his being clouding Lawrence's judgment as both horror and rage overflowed within him. In a last-ditch effort, he bounced off the counter as far as he could get, one foot touching the edge of the scalding water, another scream bursting from him like a steam engine, and then he bolted out the door closing it behind him. Stepping back quickly, he began to see correctly again, rubbing some more chlorine out of his eyes and watching in disgust as the water leaked onto his bedroom carpet and absorbed into the fabric. Great clouds billowed from the top of the door. Unamused with Lawrence's attempt to keep them contained, he coughed several times. He left the scene behind, unsure and frightened by the thought of dealing with this strange circumstance that sent uneasy waves splashing around his gut.

Walking back into the living room, he desperately wished for a moment to catch his breath, but he had to throw his hands up, shielding his eyes as a bright light threatened to blind him. Falling down, Lawrence rested on his knees for a moment as he began to adjust to the illumination that shrouded him, exposing the darkness. Letting his hands fall slowly, he was struck dumbfounded by the sight before him.

Elegant wings suspended a woman of pure beauty as she hovered before the door, hands clasped together in silent prayer. A white gown lay loosely upon her figure, barely covering the woman as her wings seemed motionless, keeping her afloat. She kept her eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge Lawrence's pain, as she remained vigil to her pleas. Heavenly pipes played around the angel, whispering tales of redemption and love unknown to Lawrence within his pain.

He gazed upon her, tears streaming down his cheeks as the overwhelming feeling of safety flooded him. She resonated nothing less than warmth and comfort when he had been overstimulated with horror and fear mere seconds ago. His heart said that his savior had come, but his mind screamed all was lost. Even within a human that can only feel love, a bottomless pit of pure logic knows the broken nature of its affliction and wounds itself if only to remind the poor creature of mortality.

She ascended into the ceiling as if invisible puppet strings determined she had done her duty well. It was time to retire the angle to her shelf. Realizing she was leaving, Lawrence bounded to his feet, reaching out both hands in protest, crying out with pain, replacing the feeling of overwhelming comfort that had filled him.

"NO, PLEASE! TAKE ME WITH YOU!" He pleaded. But her eyes never opened, and not a word slipped through her lips as she continued her path into the heavens while uttering a silent prayer between her and an unseen deity.

Slipping back down to his knees, new tears replaced the old ones. These represent a feeling of loss and hopelessness. His mouth hung open in disbelief, agony consuming his heart and pulling him into the darkness. Nothing was left for him, and the creature knew this to be true. Stepping forward, it placed a hand on Lawrence's shoulder, tasting these last few seconds of sweet fear before running the scissors blade swiftly and silently across the poor man's neck.

Letting him fall forward onto the carpet, the creature smiled to itself under the mask it wore before stepping back through the veil and releasing the apartment back to the place it belonged.