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His expression was of death when he first came to me,

eyes of terror, equalised with a determination to live.

Nothing could truly strike fear into such a man..

..other than what had made him flee.

And that was why I hadn't opened the door.

The door to save the life of a fearless man.



His nails dug deep into the flesh of the wooden craft,

He gave out cries of request, before demand.



"Let me in!.. please!...



..ARGH! LET ME IN! LET ME IN, GODDAMN IT! NOW!"



How he switched to and fro sent shivers down the spineless man I was to become after that night.

And then I saw it.

The dark silhouette behind him, standing, waiting..

..

Watching.



As soon as his gaze had it's first peak at all he could possibly fear, he took one grim look of shock, and made the most heart shattering and cold appearance of hopelessness I had ever.. seen..



He now attacked the door, seeing it as an enemy, the enemy preventing his safety, his well being,

his life.

Punching it, ripping at it with teeth and willpower alike, oh no, this man did not stop, even when he bled until his shirt was maroon as the eyes that would watch him from behind.



But it was not the door he hated the most.

No.



It was me.



For I was the man who would not open such a door,

the only man who could offer him his safety,

the reassurance he lusted for so vigorously,

held back by my selfishness and self value over his.



It was then the silhouette began it's approach towards him, as tears fell down his cheeks, just to be dried by the boiling temperature caused by the angered blood within his veins.

He called out names to me, of all types..

insult after insult as he made a full on chaotic and bezerk attack against the door, no longer for his safety, no..



..now because of how much he would have loved to have me dead.

He knew his fate.

But what he now wanted more than anything was to see the lifeless body of the man responsible.

Not the killer.

The man that had said "No."



The man that that betrayed him.





Me.





As the silhouette's approach came to a close, he took one final grimacing look of hate and spite that I shall never forget.

The fear in his soul had faded, and I could feel the power of his hatred as he looked upon me for the last time, his passion for my death seeping under the door, through the cracks, and round the edges, straight to me.



But that was not what had me shaken.

That was not what had changed me forever, no..



..it was what he said before he met with death, that keeps me awake at night.



What he said.. to me.



Because even after knowing such a beast of fear and rage was going to end him, he had not named it.

He had not called it anything.



He could've, as he was about to die.. but he saved them..

final..

words..



..just for me.



And I know he hadn't meant the dark figure, for he hadn't even blinked as he stared into my soul, his mouth finally bearing the sentence that would sum up all he could see before him..



Something worse than what had brought him to meet death, even..



And before he would bleed out, as the silhouette did unspeakable things to him, some of the worst I have ever seen, so gruesome, that he wasn't recognisable to the man I was looking at 5 seconds before..



He took the time..



His.. last.. time..



to say the words..



To me.





"You... monster..."