This wasn't how it was supposed to be: The Stranger

The boy stood at the foot of the narrow bed, watching the other toss fitfully in his sleep. The room was dark, doubly shaded by the night sky and the tightly closed curtains - curtains that had forgotten what it was like to be open, laden with dust and grime.

The blankets were so warm, damp with sweat from the restless nightmares. He lifted an edge and tucked himself in, lying next to the larger figure, feeling the twin heartbeats beat in rhythm - both speeding - one fighting a losing struggle, the other racing in fear.

All was silent, save the beeps of the medical equipment counting down the seconds, and the ragged breaths echoing in the room. The air was still, stagnant, almost frozen in anticipation. The boy held his breath along with the world - it seemed as if the universe was waiting in anxiety, paused on the dreadful cusp of a great fall. All was silent.

The darkness was choking. No longer a concept, it had become alive, a thing unto itself, raising its dark arms to envelope the occupants of the room and swallow them whole. The boy could feel it now - cold hands reaching for the bed, tilting them up, and sliding them into a maw from which there was no escape. He scrunched his eyes tightly shut.

A few seconds later, he opened them. A figure was standing by the bedside, obscured by the shadows, mere inches away. It was a shape the boy recognized, because it came every night, visiting in the late hours, although all the doors were locked and windows bolted. No barrier could stop this one from coming, not when it sensed its time was near.

The boy spoke wordlessly, screamed silently, shouted nothing. The figure was motionless, still, but its presence was heavy with intent and foreboding. Each night it would appear, frozen as the moonlight, and each night it would vanish again by daybreak. He never saw it come, and never saw it go, but every night, it would stand by the bedside, waiting.

One day it would move, stretch out its arms, and take the other away. The boy hoped against it, but he knew. There was no stopping The Stranger. Not when there was a debt to collect.

He turned away, but he still felt the coldness at his back, the tingle up his spine. He knew.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.