Four days ago, 1.27am.

Screams; tortured and terrified screams splintered through Jisung's eardrums, making him wince.

He snarled and beat the object in his hand against the head of the faceless person from which the sound came from.

An odd, gurgling yelp came from the faceless person beneath him. Strange, he mused, he hadn't heard that sound before... it sounded like they were choking on their own blood.

Intrigued, he hit them again, smashing the formless yet solid object into their face. Their small body slumped back against the floor, quiet and unmoving.

Simon says be a real life killer

Jisung turned to the other faceless person and he grinned at them.

You are all mine, mine, mine, mine, mine

Tears rolled down their blank, empty face and their lip quivered as they backed up against the wall with nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

Jisung stepped closer to them and saw their lips moving frantically. Were they begging, pleading for him not to kill them? Jisung couldn't hear them... heavy bass riff and sharp synth sounds played in his mind, blocking out the faceless person's pointless pleas. He adjusted his grip on the object; his hand now slippery with blood.

You are all mine, mine, mine, mine, mine

He lunged forward and swung the object down, smashing it into the side of the faceless person's head. They fruitlessly tried to block the impact with their arms but fear slowed their reactions and it collided into their head with a heavy thud and a crack.

Jisung dropped the bloodied object to the floor and grabbed the faceless person, dragging them onto the floor. Their head lolled to the side and saliva dribbled out of their mouth and onto the carpet. Dark red blood oozed from a cavernous dent in their skull; it dribbled down their face and pooled in the shallow bays where their eyes should have been.

Jisung pulled out another formless object from his pocket, smaller and lighter than the former. He plunged it into the faceless person's chest and their body spasmed, spitting more blood onto the carpet.

He stabbed them again and again and again.

Into their torso, their legs, their chest. Over and over and over.

Breathing heavily, he stood from the body, stepped over them and walked over to the other, smaller faceless person. He knelt and peered down at them; their mouth was ajar, capturing their last moments of terror on their otherwise featureless face.

Jisung's eyes then travelled down to their torso. He viciously stabbed them, puncturing holes into their body until he was out of breath.

He stood back up and threw the object to the ground then wiped his hands against his pants, the sticky, coagulated blood staining his jeans.

Someone mimicked the sound of a siren in his mind and he smiled to himself...

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP

Jisung's eyes flicked open with a start at the screeching sound of his alarm going off. He blindly reached out and felt around with his fingers for his phone that was lying somewhere on the floor near his bed. He felt it just out of reach and groaned as he rolled his body over and finally grabbed hold of it, the high pitched beeping stabbing like needles into his eardrums. He swiped his finger across the screen, finally silencing the alarm and slumped back into his sheets.

Now fully awake, Jisung realised with a sinking feeling in his gut that he'd had another terrible nightmare last night; the vivid memory of it now present in his mind. But he didn't remember waking up from it last night... Did that mean he had slept the whole night?

It didn't feel like he had slept at all though. His body felt heavy and lethargic and another painful headache was now surfacing, aching at the sides of his head like someone was squeezing it in a vice-like grip.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and as he did his head swam and silvery blotches sprinkled over his vision.

He clutched his head and fell back against his pillow as dizziness temporarily took over. Staring up at the ceiling, he watched while the silver sparkles danced in front of his eyes, blooming outwards like flowers before fading away. After a few moments his vision finally cleared but he felt queasy and uncomfortable, even his pillow suddenly seemed hard and lumpy.

"Jisung! Are you up?" came his mother's voice from the kitchen.

Jisung winced again and burrowed into the sheets, tucking them underneath his chin. He attempted to answer his mother but at first all that came out was a raspy cough as his voice got stuck in his throat.

"I'm up, Mum." he managed to whisper a few strangled words though he doubted his mother could hear him.

He heard rustling and movement from her in the kitchen and the creak of the front door opening, then a loud exasperated sigh from her.

"Oh bloody hell! Well that's just great isn't it!"

At the sound of his mother's frustration, Jisung forced himself out of bed, fighting to free himself from his sheets, and stumbled to the doorway. He wrapped his fingers around the doorway to steady himself and peered down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"Mum, what's wrong?" he called out.

His mother strode back into the kitchen and glanced down the hallway at him while she roughly yanked on a pair of yellow gloves.

"Oh, it looks like some animal got into the garbage last night; tore up the rubbish bag and spread its contents all over the yard! This is just what I need in the morning before I go to work!" She huffed, a stray piece of her black hair falling to the side of her face.

She flicked it out of the way before walking back outside and slamming the door shut.

An animal getting into the garbage? That was unusual, but Jisung guessed it was probably just a hungry stray dog or something.

He turned, slumped against the wall and stared at his bed. Now that he was up, he should probably have a shower and get ready for school but he felt too exhausted to move. There was also the lingering fear in the back of his mind of having more blackouts; he could barely remember what happened yesterday... there were just so many holes in his memory it was like he was losing who he was and someone else was taking control of his mind and body.

That thought scared him more than anything, and he couldn't bring himself to leave his bedroom. He shuffled back over to his bed and slumped his tired body into the sheets. Rolling onto his side, he couldn't quite get comfortable. His pillow felt all hard.

Exhaling a deep sigh, Jisung lifted himself up onto his elbows to examine his pillow. Maybe if he just fluffed it up a little━

Grabbing the pillow, his hand landed on something hard, something very different to what a pillow was supposed to feel like.

Jisung swallowed nervously, feeling a lump form in this throat. Tentatively, he slipped a hand inside the pillow case, reaching in deep until his fingers reached something undeniably solid, slim and smooth.

His heart rate spiked and his hand quickly grew clammy around the mysterious object. Very, slowly, he pulled it from the pillow case.

The moment he saw the smooth red casing a terrified yelp escaped his lips and his shaky hand dropped the object onto his bed. He fell backwards and scrambled across the sheets, yelping again when he tumbled off the end of the bed. He lay there frozen, heart palpitating madly in his chest, staring blindly up at the ceiling.

It couldn't be.

It wasn't.

But when Jisung pushed himself up to peek over the end of the bed, what he saw was undeniable.

There, laying amongst the wrinkled sheets was the red craft knife. The one he had thrown away.

Jisung's gut churned and his stomach cramped painfully. He doubled over as a wave of nausea hit him and made his head spin. The world tipped sideways and Jisung thought he was going to fall over as he stumbled out of his bedroom, clammy hands gripping the wall for support.

He stumbled into the bathroom, barely making out the pale tiled floor as a swirl of strange elongated squares and he sunk to the floor, the cool tiles soothing against his hot skin.

Another wave of nausea swept over him and he crawled across the floor to the toilet, reaching it just as bile raced up his esophagus, his stomach painfully twisting. Jisung clung to the cool porcelain bowl like his life depended on it while his body forcefully ejected its contents into it.

Hot tears ran down his cheeks and he gasped for breath as it kept coming, but even the God awful sensation of vomiting couldn't shift his mind's focus from the terrifying reality; the truth that he simply couldn't run or hide from.

It hadn't been some feral dog that tore into the garbage last night, it had been him.

But he couldn't even remember having done that, couldn't fathom what would possess him to commit such a messed up act. He had thrown out that knife. He didn't want it, so why was it now lying on his bed?

Had he even cleaned up after himself? He certainly didn't smell like he'd been ransacking a bag of garbage in the dead of night. His clothes weren't dirty and neither was the craft knife.

Jisung rested his cheek against the cool porcelain, trying to soothe the trembles shuddering through his aching body. That was when he noticed his mother's voice calling him, growing more defined as she approached.

Panic, fear, embarrassment, some emotion Jisung couldn't quite decipher shot through him and he jerked his head up. He didn't want to let his mother see him like this. But the world spun once again as he pushed himself away from the toilet, the throbbing in his head doubling in intensity. His body was exhausted and he could do nothing but groan as he slumped down on the tiled floor, holding onto his head, feeling like it might just explode from the pounding, unrelenting ache.

"Jisung? Are you up y━ Jisung! Honey are you okay?" his mother startled as she stepped inside the bathroom, and Jisung soon felt her arms around him, gently coaxing him up into a sitting position, his body leaning against her.

"Mum," It hurt to speak, his throat still stung from the stomach acid, and Jisung reached out for his mother, eyes half lidded.

A warm embrace wrapped around him, cool hands swept hair from his forehead and stilled, "Jisung, you're running a fever!"

The gentle touch of his mother's hands against his cheeks soothed him somewhat and he felt himself beginning to relax, his tight muscles uncoiling.

"I feel like shit," he croaked.

"Oh, sweetie," his mother helped him gently to his feet and began walking him to the door, "Here, let's get you back into bed. No school today, you need to rest."

But at the mention of going back to bed, panic seized him, "No, wait!" Jisung started, thrusting his arms out to push against the doorway and his mother stopped, confusion and concern in her eyes.

"I need some pills, for the pain," he said, raising a hand to his head, "I feel like my head's about to burst open."

He looked deep into his mother's eyes, desperate for her to listen. His mother couldn't see that, that thing on his bed. He had to hide it.

His mother must have seen that desperation, however, interpreting it as a need to feel better, and she nodded, "Okay, sweetie. Wait here, I'll get you some pain relief."

As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, Jisung stumbled into his bedroom, falling onto his bed as he snatched up the red craft knife from amongst the sheets. He scrambled off the bed, wincing as every movement sent sparks of pains shooting over his skull. He stood in the middle of his room, eyes raking every inch of his bedroom, trying to find a sensible place to hide the knife.

Finally, his eyes landed on his chest of drawers. He hurried over to it, pulled open the second bottom drawer and shoved the little red knife in amongst his pants, making sure to bury it deep and out of sight. Then he slammed the drawer shut and slumped back down onto his bed. He rolled onto his back with a groan just as his mother appeared in his doorway, a glass of water and blister of pills in hand.

"I'm sorry, honey, I can't stay. I have to go to work." His mother said after she had helped him back into bed and watched him swallow his pills.

"It's okay, mum." he answered, eyelids closing as she stroked a hand through his hair.

She smiled the type of smile that said all she really wanted to do was stay at home and care for her son.

"Get some rest." She said, placing a light kiss on his forehead.

At hearing the front door shut as his mother left for work, Jisung raised his head to eye his chest of drawers. He felt utterly miserable, knowing that dreaded knife was sitting in amongst his clothes, tempting him with the possibility of black outs and lost time.

He couldn't simply throw it out again, not unless he wanted history to repeat itself. Should he just leave it where it was and hope to forget about it?

Jisung heaved a heavy sigh and slumped back against his pillow. He turned on his side and curled up, tugging the sheets over his head. The pain medication had started to kick in, the piercing ache in his head slowly diminishing.

He simply didn't know what to do. He had thought that by at least being at home, the possibility of more black outs wouldn't be as bad because he'd be in a closed-of environment. But knowing that he had a knife in his drawer that he couldn't get rid of terrified him. He wasn't any closer to figuring out what was happening to him and things only seemed to be escalating.

Jisung flicked open his eyes at the vibration of his phone going off somewhere in his bed. He shifted his hand about, blindly feeling for the device then pulled it out from under the covers to see who was calling him.

"H-hey Chenle," he croaked after connecting the call.

"Jisung! Thank God you finally picked up, I've been trying to call you all day!" Chenle sounded stressed and his words sent an uncomfortable shiver over Jisung's skin.

"You have? What time is it?" he asked, slowly sitting up.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced around his bedroom. It looked exactly the same as it had moments before... or what felt like moments before. Only that the bright morning sunshine streaming in through his bedroom window had moved considerably across the floor and softened to a warm orange pool of light.

Had he fallen asleep?

Or had something else happened?

Panic gripped him and his legs got tangled in the bed sheets as he hurried out of bed and ran to his chest of drawers.

"Jisungie, it's 3.45. School finished fifteen minutes ago. You didn't show up and I got so worried. Are you okay? Why weren't you picking up?" Chenle's words made his blood run cold.

Oh no, not again! Heart pounding in his chest, Jisung balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder as he yanked open the drawer and rifled through his pants. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the slim craft knife he expelled a long sigh.

"Jisung? Are you there? Tell me what's going on?"

"It's okay, I'm here," he replied, pulling out the knife to examine it. It looked exactly the same, as if it had been in his drawer the whole time, untouched and unused. Relief washed over him, allowing his heart rate to slow.

Chenle was still asking a barrage of questions in his ear, but Jisung was glad to at least be a little less on edge in knowing he hadn't used the craft knife for any sinister purpose.

Blackout or not, the little weapon in his hand scared him more than anything. He slipped it back into his drawer and closed it, turning to lean his back against it as he finally answered Chenle's burning questions.

"I'm so sorry I didn't call you or let you know, but I woke up feeling really shit this morning," he explained, "I even threw up. So I stayed home today, and I must have slept all day."

There was a short pause before Chenle replied, "Are you okay now, though? You slept the whole day... and nothing weird happened?"

Jisung knew he was asking about the black outs, but how could he explain any of what had happened? Chenle didn't even know about the craft knife, let alone all the trouble and distress it had been causing him. Jisung swallowed down his guilt and replied, trying to sound as naturally positive as he could.

"Nothing weird, no. In fact, I feel a little better after sleeping all day. Maybe that's what I needed."

Another pause. Jisung bit his lip and started picking at his nails as he stared at the wall.

"Okay, well I'm glad." Jisung relaxed and switched the phone to his other ear, walking back to sit down on the edge of his bed. "But you know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm feeling fine, honestly." he said, glancing down at his hand. He frowned, noticing some sort of grit under his nails.

"Okay, well I'm inviting myself over to yours tomorrow so we can hang out. I wish I could come over now but I've got stupid cram school."

The severely unenthusiastic way in which Chenle talked about cram school usually would have made Jisung chuckle, but he was too distracted by the mysterious dark grit caught under his nails.

"I'll see you then." He hung up without waiting for a reply, dropping his phone to the bed before holding his hands out in front of him, carefully scrutinizing them.

His hands were otherwise clean, but stuck under each nail on both hands was a blackish substance and Jisung had no clue where it had come from. He had been asleep all day right? Right?

But dread began to seep its way into his thoughts, unfurling like little black flower petals into scary possibilities, blossoming in his mind as dark images and scenes. Just like those haunting nightmares that tormented him in the night.

Just then, he heard the clang of the front door, and his mother calling him, "Jisung honey, I'm home! How are you feeling?"

Casting aside the looming dread in his mind, Jisung stood and walked down the hallway to greet her.

But what he had failed to notice was the stack of art pages hidden under his bed, heavily covered in black charcoal scribbles.

A/N: OMG I FINALLY UPDATED! SURPRISE! HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🎃

I hope you thoroughly enjoyed this chapter and got those creepy vibes 😅 I've been watching a lot of creepy movies and shows, and reading creepy fics, so I decided we needed a special update for this fic. Sorry I don't have anymore atm!

Love you! 😘💖