No Mask? NO MASK!!

Rising once again, he looked around. The feeling like someone was there still wasn't leaving him. He could have sworn Oliver was there. Offering to help with a video. Thinking about it, his mind became fuzzy. Things like this had become so jumbled lately. Something was wrong, but he couldn't figure it out. When he went to the hospital, they told him he was fine, and that maybe he just needed more rest. 

Exhaling, he closed his eyes, Oliver's look of horror kept flashing in his mind. He couldn't remember why or what he had even done to make Oliver look at him like that. Trying to think of it, he seen himself attacking the other. But he would never do that! Would he? Was that someone he was becoming? He didn't want to think so. He could fight, of course. But fight Oliver? No. Regardless of his thoughts, to him it was what had happened. He felt guilty of it. Lying down once more, he sighed, trying to fall asleep again.

In the sea of darkness once more, he found himself waking, he didn't know when this time it was. His vision blurred as he stares out, formations like trees appearing in his sights. Though he was finding it hard to focus. Pain had throbbed through his back, his spine and neck feeling on fire. As things had begun to clear, he had seen a figure in the distance. In his mind, something had told him it was Wyatt. Reaching out his left hand toward the walking from him, tears welled from the pain, and the need to have someone there, "Please...come back..." He called out weakly to the figure as it left him lying on the ground.

It was cold, he felt damp, and it was a struggle to keep his arm up toward the figure that was only getting smaller in the distance, "Wyatt...it hurts a lot...Don't leave me here..." Feeling so weak his arm dropped again, the fingers on his hand digging slightly into the damp dirt below them. The pain was too much. He could see the darkness encroaching once more. Slowly, Bellamy began to fall into sleep again, knowing the figure wasn't coming back to help him. His thoughts lingered on being abandoned. But he was not very upset by this realization, he supposed, even, it was deserved.

In the darkness once more, Bellamy sat, eyes closed, asleep, replaying these moments in his mind, and many more. Shadow figures shifting around him, almost just as dark as the rest of this strange inner world of his mind. Bellamy's inner world was nothing but a strange darkness. Shapes with no color. People with no faces. Though when he woke up, and the world seemed real once more, he could recognize these forms. Seeing something entirely as what it should have been.

Staring up at the ceiling on this particular day, Bellamy swallowed, feeling weak. Weaker again as time with this strange feeling grew. Since the summer of the year before, the feeling, which had started out faint, had grown quite a lot. He could not tell friends. What would they say? That he was tired? That he worked too much? That he thought too much? Maybe suggest to him that he attend therapy. He felt alone. And he was. Entirely alone. This was a burden he would bear, just as any other before it. He frowned, feeling as if he might cry, maybe. Bellamy didn't know, actually.

With some blinking, the feeling was gone, masked once again as all strong feelings in him had to be. Bellamy sits up in his bed, sure that the returning intensity of his nightmares was because of the feeling that had been growing. He would say he might have been losing himself. But he had done that long ago, in his books. Before he had ever had a chance to live, his life had seemed to be already gone. Putting on little shows for anyone who got too close. Acting normal, or. as close to normal as he could manage. It didn't work, he was still weird, an oddball. But not inhuman enough to make some people abandon him. But some still did. 

Bellamy rose from his bed, scratched at his stomach absently as he yawned, and walked across his bedroom to the attached bathroom. Stretching out his arms and back before then moving to close the door. He washed up for the morning and got dressed. Then started to prepare for the day at work. Standing eventually in his living room, he stuffed some items for the day, his lunch, and some drinks into a backpack before pulling it onto his shoulders and making his way for the door. Stopping to look back at his house. There was something strange about it. But he couldn't see it, no matter how much he tried. His gaze shifting over how normal it all seemed. 

Sitting then, hours later, at a table by himself. Bellamy eats his lunchable. Nachos. With a few other added items. A turkey sandwich. A lemonade juice he had squeezed himself in a bottle. A peach and some walnuts. Absently, he ate at them, watching some of his other co-workers, tables away from him, chatting and having what seemed to be a very enticing conversation. One called over to him as he chewed on some sour skittles, wanting his input in the conversation, "Green, maybe?" Bellamy answered softly, though projecting enough for them to hear. The table nodded and went back to their chattering before getting up and leaving a few minutes later. Bellamy sat alone, chewing on a small nacho chip. This time they were spicy. He liked them, he realized. Then, he finished his lunch, got up, and left to go back to work, too.

Yawning, Bellamy stands at his station, absently staring at his project for work. His face void of any expression, as it often was when he let the mask slip. It was easy to let the mask slip while at work. Since he was often by himself, who did he need it to pretend for? Bellamy zoned out in his work. Moving automatically to the same rhythm he had been doing for years now. Lost in his internal world as the hours crunched on. But since the summer, that inner world had become more appealing. In that world, he had been much happier. He was not alone. The desire to be loved did not seem so entirely embarrassing that he denied himself such, as he did in the real world. Lost in that inner world, he didn't hear a co-worker saying his name at first, nor the second time, or even the sixth. 

Her hand suddenly brought him out of his reverie. Shocked, he twitched, hurting himself unknowingly as he turned his head to face the co-worker, offering a smile to her, "Ah-yeah! It's-" The co-worker had noticed the blood before he had, she grabbed his arm, concerned as she brought it to his attention, asking even if it had hurt. Bellamy shook his head, "Yeah! Sorry- I-" He blinked, confused by the care she took in it, watching absently as her hand had moved to his shoulder. He barely heard what she had to say, but could hear a concern also lighting up her voice. Bellamy moved along with her. Then watched as she helped to stop the bleeding and bandaged it up, "It is almost done." Bellamy then answered, delayed. She just stared at him, then gave a nod before saying that wasn't important at the moment. Bellamy exhaled, "I know." As she asked if the cut had hurt, he nodded, as was appropriate. 

After all was taken care of, however, she went on talking about the project and its progress with him. No longer interested in his injury. Bellamy would glance down at it every so often. Not because it hurt (it did hurt), but because these rare moments of feeling like he mattered was something he savored. He felt like he had existed, and was meant to. Closing his fingers into the palms of his hands, he smiled a little. Though when questions were directed at him once more, it had vanished, and he looked toward the elder, nodding as she finished speaking, before answering her questions.

He walked home from work every day. That was what he was doing then. Bellamy walked past buildings. Hearing sometimes the laughs of friends chatting in their apartments. Or the sounds of music escaping the walls in muffled tones. Passing by strangers talking to one another on the street. Clubs and bars full of so much chatter it had been hard to make out any one conversation from another between anyone. But, he was familiar. He had had friends who invited him inside these barriers. Though some of those friends had gone now. And he was more alone, again. Bellamy felt like he didn't belong this evening. So walked past those places. 

Entering his house, he again looked around. Something strange was going on here, he could feel it. But upon not seeing it. He thought he might have just been imagining it. Moving inside, he moved to drop his keys onto a decorative plate. Moving into the living room, he dropped the backpack he was carrying onto a chair. No one else sat there. So the chair had been for the backpack. Lifting his injured hand up, Bellamy rubbed it absently, just to feel the sting of pain burst from the wound, and up part of his arm. Thinking about what he wanted for dinner as he did so. 

Taking out a few fish he had been keeping on ice in his crisper the last day or so. Leaving it on the counter, Bellamy moved to prepare some rice for his rice cooker. He took out a sushi kit he had to one side, ready to make some sushi. As the rice cooker was prepping, Bellamy descaled the fish, then removed the organs of them, putting them into the sink. He started to flay it before pausing. Realizing something strange. Where had he gotten all this fish? He turned his head, looking around for a moment. Before shrugging, feeling like it wasn't important all of a sudden. He went on to finish preparing for his dinner.    

Lying down on his couch, Bellamy watched a movie. Tonight he chose to watch Batteries Not Included, something he had grown up with on the minimal time he could watch tv. Usually at night when his caretakers were asleep. As they often kept him busy during the day. Afterward, Bellamy streamed for a while, playing a video game. Then Bellamy moved to his bedroom. There he read for a little while before finally going to sleep.

Standing under the dark sky with only the moonlight to offer any kind of light. Bellamy's body moved awkwardly. Twitching slightly. Most of his clothes gone, replaced by nothing more than bare flesh and streaks of red, some drier than others. IT stepped closer to another figure. Bellamy's foot pressing down on something round, a skull. Pressing down into it, the skull broke, oozing its contents under Bellamy's foot. Purple irises shine in the darkness, the moonlight to Bellamy's back, adding a supernatural like glow to him. A scream erupted into the air as the other man continued running from Bellamy. IT liked when they thought they could get away. IT liked to chase them. Bellamy started to get taller, his limbs seemingly thinner. IT bounds forward. Easily dodging through trees and any other thing that got between it and its prey. 

Jumping, then it reached out, Bellamy's arm stretching out unnaturally long, his hand splitting into thin, pitch black lines, as it stretches out to reach its target. Soon grasping onto its prey. Both landing on the ground in a pile, "Got youuu." It taunted as the man, freaking out, tried to break free of it. IT brought its foot down, hearing bones break, blood splattering onto Bellamy's face. IT tore and twisted the man, bone and flesh breaking and tearing as it slaughtered. Once the screaming stopped and the man had gone still, IT hooked him by the foot and started to drag him back to the other bodies again. Playing with its prey had given it just enough pleasure for the time being. As IT arrived again at the space of bodies, it tossed the now dead man into them. 

IT knelt in the center of the form of bodies around it. From the woods, beings in robes began to emerge, chanting and circling around IT. This had gone on for a while. Then, the chanting died down, till it stopped. IT lifted its head, eyes glowing in that purple hue that often appeared. A smirk formed over Bellamy's lips, "Soon." IT spoke, staring up toward the moon as it did.