Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Nightmares of the past…

In a screeching sound, Hunter inserted the key and twisted it. When he opened the door, there was nothing but darkness, except for scattered rays of moonlight shining in from the window at the opposite end of the room. To find the light switch, he ran his hand along the wall adjacent to the door. He felt two switches as his fingers ran along the coarse limestone wall. The first one he flipped was met with rustling noises coming from above the center of the room. When he realized it was the fan, he turned it off and flipped the next one. Hunter was thrown for a moment by the appearance of a yellow-tinted light that illuminated the interior of the room.

His reaction to the dated bed sheets had nothing to do with the condition of the sheets; he had been too taken aback to notice anything else in the room. There were no signs of cracks in the windowsill, yet his eyes were glued to the opening, which was a few inches higher than the sill's normal position. Hunter had just noticed the buckle fastened in the moonlight, but that seemed impossible. Unless of course, it wasn't? Squeezing his forehead, he released the pressure that had built up throughout the day. His eyes scanned the room with a glance at the bed to his left. Given the price and the location, it was a basic room with adequate amenities. There was a door to the right, possibly to the washroom, while next to the bed was a small wooden table. Before he dove into the unwelcoming bed, Hunter removed his boots and walked a few steps towards it. It didn't occur to him to turn off the light, and he didn't appear to intend to do so.

With his heart in his mouth, Hunter suddenly ran down an alleyway, using every ounce of energy to get away before he was caught. He twisted in pain as he heard shrieks coming from behind. As his boots stomped across the hardened concrete of the alleyway, he tried to resist looking behind him as the groans raced through the air. Blood ran down his right hand as he still held onto the bloody knife in his right hand. He felt as if he had done this before. Looking at the pointed end of the crooked blade, he felt as though he had been here not so long ago, which made him squirm from head to toe.

As his anxiety intensified, he became paralyzed with fear, and the alleyway looked endless, adding to his anxiety. He felt caged, as though he was going to run from whatever followed him, trying to escape, and not looking back, but all to no avail. He had dreaded that feeling all his life, a feeling that didn't seem to go away, just as the cries that became louder with each passing moment. Hunter could not help but turn around when he suddenly felt heavy breathing on his neck. The sight manifested itself in his peripheral vision as he slowly turned his head while continuing his pace. It was an unnervingly harrowing sight, a pale face drained of blood, eyes brimming with agony, lips on the verge of screams. The long flaming red hair almost made Hunter's heart leap out of his chest. Running seemed impossible as if his limbs weighed a mountain. As a mortal fear gripped his body, he closed his eyes.

"Let me go!!! HAAAA!!!!" Hunter cried, falling off the bed and landing with his face on the ground. The trembling of his arms was accompanied by the flutter of his heart. Having regained total control of his senses, he woke up beside the bed on the cold, hard floor. He screamed, breaking through the thick fog of silence that had settled in the air. "Not again! Fuck!!!" he groaned. His relief was palpable as he sat up and tried to gather his composure. His attention shifted to the wooden table atop which his jacket lay. When he saw it, he quickly pulled the envelope from his pocket. As a result of the scuffle with the lodgekeeper, the packet had become creased. Before opening it, Hunter stared into the container for a moment and reached for the object inside. With his fingertips, he pulled out a photograph and clasped it between his thumb and index finger before bringing it close to his face.

It was as though he was trying to convey his thoughts to the photograph with every passing moment, his eyes fixed on the image. It showed a woman gazing playfully out into the distance with a pale face. Her hands rested together against her thighs as she sat on a ledge. A boat drifted slowly behind her on a lake. The picture appeared candid as if the woman was unaware of being photographed. It was a black and white photograph, but the shades still captured the details of her face. She appeared to be amused and had a twinkle in her eyes, which drew out her simplistic beauty. The lake's light hues contrasted with her hair, letting loose against her shoulders. A beautiful woman in every sense of the word, but there were no notable features on her face other than her nose, which was perfectly carved with its razor straight edge, adding an extra touch of elegance to her look. Involuntarily, Hunter smiled, for the image of the face had burned into his mind throughout the day. To him, it was ironic, as in the photograph she looked like an intriguing beauty, but today he had witnessed a harrowing tragedy. While he closed his eyes, he recalled the moment he smelled her fragrance.

It still feels vivid, for he watched her enter the alleyway as he followed behind in silence. Straddling towards her home, she didn't even notice his presence. Despite the proximity to her house, he knew she couldn't see the light at the end of the alleyway. While her scent obscured the putrid odor of the surrounding area, Hunter pulled out his jacket's pocketknife and increased his pace, creating a bridge between them. As soon as she was within reach, all was over. As if on cue, he pounced on her like a wolf on unassuming prey, and, with lightning speed, he covered her mouth before plunging the blade into her lower back. Hunter's hand muffled her screams as he pulled the knife out again and again until she stopped shuddering. Seeing her lifeless face, Hunter took one last look at it, filled with fright and agony. The lack of breath elucidated her fate as he placed his fingers near her nose. Even though she didn't have a pulse, Hunter felt the fastening of his heartbeat as sweat condensed on his forehead. Before taking off down the path he came, he wiped the bloodied knife with her dress and put it away.

Having played the scene continuously in his head, the event was now taking its toll. He pondered to himself, "This isn't the first time I've done this. Why is this one bothering me so much?" "Maybe I shouldn't have waited this long. Shouldn't have gotten this involved." His mind raced with the idea. He began to wonder why the face of the woman in the photograph had been unnerving him as soon as he reached the train station. Originally, he was supposed to board a train out of Standfield and disappear. To his credit, Hunter dealt with the getting away part well. He doubted that this place was even on the map as anything other than forests and mountains. But it was his mental fog that clouded his judgment about how to proceed with the rest of his idea. He was short on time, after all. Though he was miles from any human settlement, he was constantly reminded that sooner or later, he would be found, and another dreaded letter would find its way to his hands or worse. Consequently, all he had was a paddleboat to cross the ocean, and right now he was stuck in the sand.

After placing the photograph back in the envelope, Hunter placed it back into his jacket's pocket. As the realization fully set in, he let out a scream of frustration. "I need to get my head straight. And think. Otherwise, everything's fucked." Turning his head toward the window, he saw a light mist settling on the panes, obscuring the view outside.

He glanced at the clock. It was just two in the morning. Every passing moment hammered the realization that he was alone and that no one was there to help him. As he stared at the graveyard from his window, it reminded him of his days at the orphanage. Whenever the wind blew past the crosses, it always sounded like someone was calling to him. Having witnessed and participated in some of the most despicable acts that humans are capable of, Hunter did not need ghosts. The eerie feeling always sent glacial chills down his spine, something he resented for all 17 years of his stay. He often counted down the days until he could leave that prison and the people within. The caretakers did not shield him from the horrors of the outside world, though the place had. They often treated the children with callousness and coldness. Then again, who could find the heart to love and nourish a horde of ragamuffins abandoned by society, who are undoubtedly destined to become a menace. In the end, no matter how far he tries to run, he still ends up in the same pit of despair of which he was a living testament. The mist settling on the window brought back many repressed memories and feelings, which he did not welcome at all. "How strange," Hunter thought, as it had been more than a decade since he had last seen the iron gates of the orphanage, but he always felt a connection to the place.

As Hunter realized he would not be able to sleep with his loaded mind, he set his pillow against the wall over the headrest to prevent him from reliving the nightmare he had just awoken from. Trying to focus on the few positive moments that he had experienced and contemplated the hell that lay before him, he stared blankly into the horizon as he waited for dawn.

You are reading story Hidden Duplicity at novel35.com

You can find story with these keywords: Hidden Duplicity, Read Hidden Duplicity, Hidden Duplicity novel, Hidden Duplicity book, Hidden Duplicity story, Hidden Duplicity full, Hidden Duplicity Latest Chapter