Kevin rolled back over in his bed. The blinding light from his laptop was the only thing illuminating his pitch-black room. The floor was dotted with dirty boxes, and clothes were scattered across the room.
He had gotten a new game, an old RPG his friend had told him about, which turned out to be more addicting than expected. He'd ended up spending the whole night and the rest of the next day playing.
It was already almost midnight. He shifted off the bed, feeling sick. His skin felt disgusting, and his vision was blurry.
"I haven't eaten since yesterday," he muttered, "Why didn't Mum wake me up?"
The dirty floor of his room stuck to his leg uncomfortably. He stretched over and got the slippers he had left under the desk with his laptop.
He stretched on the bed for a moment, gathering himself. Through the gap in his window, he could see a woman bent over a desk in her house.
She was always up all night working. He felt a bit sorry for watching her, but since she didn't have blinds, and she was the only human—other than his mother—that he saw these days.
He always wondered how people did it. She looked so alive. Despite struggling every night, or barely getting any sleep, a bright smile crept over her lips with each problem she solved.
Kevin felt like his life had been on pause since that day of his high school graduation. It was like all things that humans did over the course of their lives had become meaningless.
He couldn't remember the date or how many years it had been.
His life had never been the same since that fateful day. The day he would leave school behind, the supposed happiest day of his life, had become a nightmare he still carried to this day.
Huddled up in the chair, feeling his warm, oily skin, dressed in his dirty joggers, he had been wearing for weeks now. Kevin felt like a twisted creature.
He couldn't let her see him, that shine would be marred by his filth.
His stomach rumbled—so hungry it was painful—but he didn't want his mother to see him either.
The core of his being, which had once been full of writhing pain and sadness, was now empty.
That emptiness felt even worse.
He stood, slowly stumbled out of his room onto the upstairs balcony. He leaned over the guardrails, looking over the sleek living room: the shining wooden floors, the white walls and the spacious room decorated with colourful paintings and furniture.
His mother always loved decorating. She would come into his room, ignoring the warm smell of stagnation and rot, to talk to him about interior design pieces. He grinned a little, remembering how he'd told her she always bought too much.
She simply smiled, that same smile he had seen for so many years, years he had spent wasting away. Her hands on his life were as gentle as they had always been.
The lights in the kitchen were on. He walked downstairs slowly.
Portraits of their small family of three hung on the wall as he descended.
He remembered the day of his father's funeral, Kevin had a bad reaction to being around so many people. When he returned home, his mother had assured him, despite his shame and self-hatred, that it was alright.
That night, a small bud of hate formed in his heart for his parents, and he hated himself more for even feeling like that.
He had been molded, into the spineless shit he had been all his life, by his father's kindness.
He swallowed those bitter thoughts down as his raspy voice called out, "Mum? Why are you awake so late?"
She always had something to do—the flower shop, home decor, friends to meet, she wasn't like him.
He stepped into the light, squinting, and froze.
A man stood there across the kitchen island, face half-covered by a wool mask with eyeholes, munching noisily on a piece of cheese.
"Was there someone else in the house?" the man mumbled.
Kevin's heart thundered in his chest, mouth hung open. It was another person—just a human—but it felt like meeting a lion in his kitchen.
He stumbled backwards, mumbling, "Mom, where… Where's my mom?"
The tall, scrawny man's eyes glanced to the other side of the island. He turned back to the refrigerator to grab some orange juice.
Kevin walked closer, just to the other side.
She was unnaturally still for such an excitable woman.
She was lying face down on the hardwood floor, her grey hair sprawled around her like she had just got out of bed for a glass of water.
Blood pooled beneath the scattered wisps of grey hair.
Kevin's mouth opened to call her name, but he couldn't hear anything.
A scream escaped his throat, hoarse and powerful. He never expected his voice could sound so real, so human.
The tall, thin man was approaching Kevin. His clothes were dirty and ragged, and he held a crooked, rusty knife.
Hot tears fell down his face. He backed up, begging. "Wait, you don't have to do this."
The thief lunged at him, swinging the knife at his throat, and Kevin was forced to jump out of the way, running into the darker anteroom.
The man's warm grunts followed him in the dark, but he kicked his shin hard against a table and fell over.
Meanwhile, Kevin knew the house—even in the dark.
He ran back around through the other passage to get a knife from the kitchen, but then he slipped and slammed hard onto the wooden floor.
A cracked glass bottle lay there, spilled orange juice. Kevin's eyes swam as he tried to get his bearings.
The thief surged out of the dark, snarling and leapt onto him.
They both struggled as the thief tried to push the knife into his eye. Saliva dripped onto Kevin's face, and his breath was warm and disgusting.
Kevin held back the man's bony wrists, far thinner than he ever thought possible, and glanced at the kitchen.
His mother's body reflected in his eyes—her bright red blood, a plate broken beside her, with his favourite peanut butter and jam sandwich.
Tears poured harder from him. He could barely see the snarling man's huge, dark eyes. A scream came from the pit of his belly once more, hot with rage.
He pushed the man up with a burst of strength and let the knife pierce his hand. The horrible, sharp pain, the blood dripping against his face—Kevin couldn't feel it.
He threw the man off him, groaning as he ripped the knife out of his left hand and kicked the man back down.
Kevin drove the knife into the man's chest. The thief weakly pushed against his arm, his thin, feeble body broke under Kevin's fury.
Unintelligible and animalistic grunts filled the dark, spacious room and in the light cast from the kitchen, was Kevin repeatedly stabbing the man.
He watched the frantic light leave the man's eyes, painted his hands and face in his blood and fumbled the knife out of his hand before he finally realised the man was dead.
He crawled to his mother, taking her head into his lap. Her oval, cheery face was slack in death. They had always looked alike; her grey hair, she said, was their only difference.
He was her son.
" Mum… mum, mum, mum," he whimpered. "Mum, please don't leave me. I'm your boy, I'll make you proud. I'll go back to school, just… just come back."
He stayed there for a while, crying into her cold, wrinkled face. Then he laid her down softly and stood to call an ambulance or the police.
When he turned, he met a small, thin figure. A face covered in a black hood, mad eyes peering out through roughly cutout holes.
Something slammed into his chest.
Then it came out and back in.
Over and over again.
When the pain hit, Kevin fell back against the kitchen island, the cold tile tabletop dug into his back and kept him standing as the second thief stabbed him.
"You killed him!" a faintly female voice howled, "You bastard, you killed—"
Kevin slumped down the table, warmth escaping his body. The second thief collapsed, sobbing, calling him a rich fool and wailing for her husband.
Kevin wished he had enough strength to wrap his hands around her neck as he died.
But something else drew his eyes.
It rose from the darkness in the living room, formless and huge, approaching him as the corners of the room grew hazy.
The woman, wailing about her husband, didn't seem to even see the monster as she walked to his dead body.
The dark form ravaged his dying mind. His already pounding heart felt like it would explode. Its voice was incomprehensible.
Chosen… manageable… soul…
Restore it… the pieces… my broken children.
Glory… honour… power.
Take it up… the Halo.
As the darkness washed over him, he passed from this world… and onto the next.