Routine Before Dawn

Written by Septia.

The embrace of your bed ushers you back to consciousness. It is cold. After a long stretch of darkness your eyes realise they are open; adjusting to the darkness around you beats the lack of sunlight to warrant morning into your mind. Covers bundled to a bindle by your side. Manipulating the threads of consciousness, you puppeteer your hands to draw a barrier against the night and cold over your body. After which the roof's definitions faded once more, or your eyes fell shut again. -Ckkfpgtw- kdfftwtp-fknk-.
The tumble and crash rips you to consciousness. It was loud, it was near… vision darts to the disturbance's origin. The nightstand is a war zone: almanac bent and jammed into the corner with pages ripped and littering, pens scattered, payphone hanging over the edge by its cord; and at the edge, pressed to the rim of the nightstand and wall, a mug of water. By the time the situation cleared in your head, the outstretched arm only obscured the containers fall. -Ckllh-pflssshsh- The waterfall of regret giving chorus as the liquid soaked into the carpet. Seconds droned past, a sleep addled mind coming to terms with it all. Something had been in your room.
-Kddfnt- -Tfht -tffht- You caught a glimmer of dust shining across the wall, followed by a hurried tapping, fading into the distance.
Something, was, in your room.

Bedroom, kitchen, bathroom. Three places to hide, the only options in this apartment. Stepping out of bed, the dust was settling in the whispers of sun rays. Towards the kitchen. A safe bet. Your step was calm; if you scrambled after, it would be impossible to catch. -Ckfkthsc- Yet your stride hit the floor with trembles of unease. Afflicted by the worry, that once the sun had risen, it would be too late.
The kitchen laid empty. Perhaps, it sensed your heartbeat. With a calm breath, you stepped to the refrigerator, and prepared breakfast. Routine eased into your nerves, guiding perspiringfingers to perform the duties they always handled. Calm settling. Eventually, it would make itself known, one way or another. Sandwiches prepared, and placed on the table, an eye always vigilant to your surroundings. The first bite.
-Clltht- dldknwwdfft- -ftmpt-tmfpt-tmfpw- A cabinet flung open, and a shade skittered down onto the countertop, out of the room.
With breakfast crammed down your throat you spied out to find it. The bathroom door left agape.
The bathroom laid as calm as the kitchen. A rhythm of droplets tailing in the sink. Lacking any signs of intrusion, you eased inside. Waiting in darkness. It lurked. Your hands were put to work once more, keeping them from sweating, palms from twitching with a firm grasp of the toothbrush. You eased into the motions, paste blooming into suds over your molars, convincing yourself that all… was… normal.
-Kclltkgh- -tmwtp-thtwpf-tffmp-. Gone again. A spot, surpassing your fist, darted out of your field of vision, away from the bathroom.
Your teeth met the stem of the plastic brush. It was there again, it wouldn't leave, it only swapped its hiding place. A breath through your nose, you spat into the sink.

~ 1 ~

Bedroom clear, silent. More hints of light creeping through the dusk. Stepping into the kitchen, and closing the door behind. Somewhere, it waited, haunting the peaceful morning. Your heart found it hard to cooperate with your guided calm disposition: Yet, you cleared the table, wiping up crumbs, placing the dishes on the counter, as calm and collected as any morning-.
-Ckrlthc- you flung open the cabinets, -Shqrlrllsc- a squeal shrieks out into the air, and the shadow lurking between plates and spices pounced. -Clllttch- But you caught it. The skin fractured into a pattern of rubbery scales, the touch of which ground into your palms, soaking up your sweat as it wriggled as a beached piranha. Its blob like body wrangling out of your grasp only to beheld back again, the rounded bean caught in your grasp, an orb of onyx which turned its single, bulbous, eyes, to drill accusation into your gaze.
Worry, amplified. You had come this far, but now it stared into your shrinking confidence. What could you do, what could be done? Your heart matched the cyclops's thrashing. Sweat, kept pooling from your palms, drenching the monster, turning it slippery. -twhhwckp- it smacked into your fingers, a tail with a wrecking ball of fluff whipping your digits, easing their grasp with each whack. Would escape again. Dawn approaching at your back. Then, clarity drummed in your mind. Your lips parted, exposing an expanse tangled in humid saliva, then your palms ferried it straight towards the depths.
-Clptsh- lips plastered over it moulding to the bean's bloated contours. You coughed into it, and scoffed it down, cramming both palms to the base behind the critter, and shovelling its form past your lips -Chrlrlpghts-. Frantic fingers cut off its paths, the tail reeled in and balled past your maw, -Chbllgpth-.
The taste was bitter. The kind which stung of sap and brine soaked mornings. -Cklhts- it sloshed in your gap, closed lips keeping it in as the bulge of the disturbing bean bound from cheek to cheek, inflating them like to ballooned beans in its image, and leaving a strain of ache chilling your cheek as the tissue contracted in the beasts absence. Palms met your cheeks, constraining its movement, head pumping. -Pfplthp- Through puckered lips the tail re-emerged. You scrambled to catch it, stuffing it back whiles parting your maw only enough to fit the beast down. It couldn't wait.
-Gllrlrkgkhsnkt- The swallow echoed between your ears, the body of the critter drawn back, into you on your tongue, but not far enough. Its frantic shuffles scuffled it forwards.
-Oogmmpfhrlpt- again, the gulp rung between your ears, as the critter plugged down, down, back towards your oesophagus.
Yet its struggles would not let up, bulging neck and cheek alike…
-Glrlrmsmsgushp. Once more you tied its struggles with your throat, encompassing its fleeing body in a cocoon of flesh… and it stilled. Your eyelids flung open, jaw listing agape, -Chflpths- -Chpths- the single eye peeking out between the undulating clamp of your throat. A gasp… muted. Your mind begun throbbing, matching, then overcoming the pounding of your heart. It clogged your throat.
With a flail of your arms, you grasp the counter, filling a glass, vision blurring and walls creeping in against you, bending the light back into a lilac gloom slithering in tendrils across every surface of the kitchen, pounding throbs pendulating between your chest and head. In a macabre tribute to asphyxiation.
The glass meets your lip. Cold, surges over your tongue.
-Ghblrlprososmpths- the swallow resonates to a tremor, water ploughing down the cycloptic congestion. The rush drove the bloat down to distort your throat in a bulbous bud of coursing liquids and taut veins, sinking down the length of your neck and slowly engulfed beneath the breadth of your chest. The ringing, dulled to a hum in your ears, as you keep, drinking. Every drop flowing down accepted by your throat, each gulp, smoother, and lighter.

“Mmpghaaa ghahg-. Gha-ghaaa… gya… haa…” You break through the cold sweat plastered over your forehead, glass shaking in your grasp. Until it hits the counter. The weight on your torso, lifting. Air making its return. Breath, haggard, but each gasp compensates, gradually sinking in intensity. Your fingers firm, sweat dries. The apartment, static, peaceful. Rays of serenity seeping through the windows, illuminating you, with the promise of another dawn.