The Watchers, a Horror fanfic

Chapter One: Black and White

Tell me child, have you ever heard voices?

Alex looked up from his colouring book, a black crayon falling to the floor from his outstretched hand. He looked around, seeking the owner of the voice, but he knew. The voice was in his head. “No, not like this, never so clear.” The child stuttered in reply.

Little voices in your head, telling you to do things, bad things, things mom always told you kids should never do. You hear them now, don’t you?

“Yes, I can hear you.” He clenched his fists, and pounded at his head, wishing the voices would stop.

Do they tease you Alex? Do they call you names? Push you around in the yard when they think no-one’s watching . I know they do Alex, I’ve seen them do it.

“Stop it!” he cried, “you’re not real!”

No Alex, I’m not real. That doesn’t matter. You’re real. You feel the hurt, hear the whispers behind you. Nigger, they call you, the little nigger kid with no friends, that’s what you are, isn’t it? NIGGER.
I can feel your pain Alex, I know what you wish could happen.

Alex clenched at his head, tears streaming from his eyes. He began to scream, a high pitched whine, stuttered by his sniffs and coughs. “Leave me alone! I’m not…”

A nigger Alex? You are, and they hate you for it. If you could change, everything would be fine, they’d leave you alone, they’d like you. You’d have friends. But no Alex, they HATE YOU.

“It’s not true!” He cried, ripping a clump of dark hair from his scalp in sheer desperation.

You know it’s true Alex, but I can change all that. I can make you normal. I can make them like you.

“They do like me!”

Lies Alex, you lie to your teachers, you lie to your parents, but you cannot lie to me. I know the truth. Go to the kitchen, I can make it all better for you.

Alex rose, tears streaming from his eyes. The sound of laughter emanated from the next room, from the television left on by his babysitters. The two of them had long since left for Alex’s parents room, and the muffled sounds of their pleasure descended the stairs. Alex walked unsteadily towards the kitchen, his knees shaking under him.

That’s it Alex, soon it will all go away, soon they will like you, they will call you COOL. Go to the drawer Alex, you know what to do.

Alex knew; the thought was clear in his mind, it was something he needed to do, something that had to be done. He opened the drawer, his hands trembling as he did so. Inside, the cutlery shone dazzlingly bright under the kitchen light.

Take it Alex.

Alex reached into the drawer, and his small hands groped for the tool that would make it all better. The long slender blade of the carving knife glinted under the lamp. It slid from the drawer with a rasp.

Slowly and quietly Alex, don’t let them hear you, it will spoil the surprise. Think how proud they’ll be when they see what you’ve done.

Alex stood in the kitchen, the carving knife like a short-sword in his tiny hands. His colouring book lay in the other room, a half coloured picture of a rainbow. Walking towards the sink, a look of determination fell across his face. He wiped away his tears and bogies with a tissue, which fell to his feet.

Is it sharp enough Alex? We don’t want to make a mistake now do we?

Tentatively, Alex pushed his index finger onto the tip of the blade until the blood began to flow. He regarded it distantly, as if the blood was not his own, and nodded in satisfaction.

It is time Alex, time to make it all better.

Alex lifted his arm over the sink, and placed the knife against his arm. Slowly, he cut into the limb, under the top layers of flesh. The blood poured swiftly, pooling in the sink below him, yet the boy continued. He dragged the knife down his arm, stripping the dark skin away from his body.

Good Alex, white Alex.

Alex smiled.