Under the Sink

 Is it morning? I'm not really sure. When I woke up I found myself in the same recliner I remembered being in but I couldn't say how long I'd been asleep for. Hours? Minutes? It didn't really matter in the end. See, I never go outside. Not to say I never have, just that I don't do it anymore. My life as a hermit started when I had nothing left to lose and when I realized there was nothing out there for me. I saw no benefit to going out every day. I saw no benefit to anything. This apartment is my world now, and my world isn't so bad. Now that my world is so small it seems every part of it holds more for me. Especially with my dear here. Without him, I don't think I could go on at all.

 My back ached as I slowly stood, stumbling for a moment in the dark of my living room. My window curtains were never open, and I never would open them. I didn't like turning on the lights overhead. The only light in my room right now was the dull glow of my computer screen struggling to stay alive. It didn't matter if it was day or night anyway.. So I moved to do the first step of my routine. I checked each camera. There were four cameras in my apartment: two in the living room, one in the bedroom, and one in the bathroom. I wasn't tech-savvy so it was hard for me to tell when they were functioning or not, but going from room to room seemed natural. My living room was my main space. It was where I slept, where I ate, and where my internet was. All of my camera feeds constantly uploaded to a web that seemed not to see it. I got on my tip toes and looked into the cameras, figuring they were likely working.

 I was being livestreamed at all times. I had convinced myself that it was a safety measure in case someone tried to invade my space while I slept. He thought it was a good idea too, or I think he did. We don't exactly talk. I just know what he wants.

 When I went into the bedroom I kept my hand away from the light switch, not even wanting to see what it looked like in there. I could vaguely see the camera's flashing red light, so I figured it was fine. The place was more of a dumping ground than a bedroom anymore. I never slept there and I just filled it with wrappers and other trash so I wouldn't have to take it out. It smelled... Musty.. There might be something growing in there, maybe.. but if it was then I didn't want to know. I just shut the door.

 The bathroom would be my next step but I hesitated before my computer. My page was open. The constant feed of my livestream. It seemed there were people watching me right now, and the numbers seemed to get higher and higher every day. Yet there were no comments of any kind and no attempt at contact. So it crossed my mind that they may not even be real. Maybe all these numbers were just.. Me? Or something else? It couldn't be people watching.. Why would they? I clicked to my news website. Or it used to be. Now it was on constant 404. I think he was interfering with my internet somehow. Most of the sites I went to had similar errors and were unfixable. No matter what, I was cut off. Perhaps it was for the best. I didn't want to remember what was going on outside. I didn't need to know any more than I already did.

 So I stopped wasting time then. It was time to get to work. The bathroom was also unlit, but the glow of my computer monitor was close enough that I could make out the shapes of everything. My eyes were used to the dark at this point. I use the toilet and wash my hands in the shower. I brush my teeth, spit in the toilet, flush, wash in the shower. It's all so normal by now. I opened up the medicine cabinet and pulled out the new pill bottles. There were three.. Had been for a few weeks. There were no labels, no identifiers, not that I could look up what they do anyway. I'm not even sure they did anything. There was writing on the otherwise empty label. Blocky letters like in a Kindergarten teaching tool. "Take one." "Take two." "Take one." I didn't question these commands. I just took my pills, swallowing them roughly. Hurt my throat but I didn't want to drink. I couldn't bear it.

 Now the last part. Taking care of him. I had a box in my cabinet, simple Tupperware like thing that held the tools of my trade. Opening it up I surveyed my options. It didn't seem to matter to him much, but I liked making at least one choice a day. There was a box cutter, a survival knife, and a straight razor. They all did the job, but I was feeling the box cutter that day. I was a present ready to be opened. I was there for him when he needed me. There was a lovely clicking noise as the blade extended and I held my arm over my sink. My sink. I guess it's not really MY sink. I haven't been able to use it for anything else other than pacifying him. "Dinner.." My voice was frail, hardly ever used and sounded pathetic. As if just that one word would give me a panic attack. I sliced my arm, deeply today. I felt he wanted it that way. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some 'cutter' type. I don't think so. I always try to cut the same line in the middle of my arm. I'm hideous enough without extra scars. I turned my arm so the blood would run directly into the drain, it dribbled fast and painted the porcelain. I heard a gurgle from under the sink, somewhere down the pipes or even in the pipes. He was probably happy.

***

 Food. Again. There was more food in my pantry than there was last time. I felt like he was becoming more passive-aggressive. He was telling me, ordering me, to eat. I hated the practice. I hated the taste of everything. It all had a mushy texture once I started chewing, an unpleasant feeling as it slid down my throat. If everything came out as shit, who was to say that I wasn't eating shit too? Did it just LOOK like food? Was it actually shit? I ate the bare minimum, dry toast was my go-to. Even then.. Regular bread would suffice. I didn't want to throw up. I didn't want to be sick. If there was nothing in my belly then there was nothing that I could throw up. Therefore the less I ate, the less danger I was in. Still the pantry kept filling. Whenever I took something out, it would be replaced the next time I opened it. I didn't care. I didn't want him to, but he kept doing it.

 He would make me sleep too. I tried to do as little of it as possible but whenever he wanted to I found myself asleep. Didn't matter what I was doing or where I was, I'd pass out right there.

 but he didn't annoy me all the time.

 He was nice when he wanted to be. One day.. He sent me a present. After I woke up I found something on my coffee table. A ring? Corroded and dirty, it looked like it might've been beautiful at one point or another.. but now it looked foul. Just like me, I guess. It was his proposal, I figured. So I wore it. Always. If someone like him wanted to marry me, who was I to say no?

 The ring was too small. It dug into my skin. I still wore it.

***

 "I love you. More. I love you. Give more. I love you."

 I found those words on a note scribbled on my coffee table, again after I woke up. At first.. I didn't know what he meant. It had to be him because the same blocky lettering was present here. What 'more'? Every time I fed him blood then I heard a growling instead of a gurgling. He didn't seem at all happy. I didn't understand. Why..? Why was he being so difficult? I thought he liked my blood? So I'd cut a second time, a third and spilled more and more into the sink but he still wasn't happy.

 Whenever I woke up it was to the same note.

 "I love you. More. I love you. Give more. I love you."

 I didn't know what he wanted from me and the more blood I gave him the less interested he seemed. I tried. I many times. My arms coated in bandages from top to bottoms. Little pasted on characters from kids shows to try and hide my disgusting red lines. He even started to deprive me. He took away the foods I could stomach, only leaving the messy and slimy stuff that I could barely force down. My livestreams would ping at random times while I was sleeping, forcing me awake. and there was something even worse. I noticed horrid rashes appearing across my body. Red splotches, dark bruises, and even little red bumps all over my skin with seemingly no reason for them to exist. I was in a complete panic. He wouldn't spell it out. It was the same message. Every. Day. Every.. However long I slept for.

 It seemed like a game. To see how far he'd push me. I would sob and hug the sink begging for answers, but none would come. It was as if he was gone when I needed him most.

 Then. He answered. Finally. When I went to the bathroom that day, I found a hair comb and a pair of scissors. On the comb written 'give' and on each half of the scissors 'more'. Now.. This baffled me more than it should by this point. He.. wanted my hair? Why would he want that? In my however-longs of hermit-hood I had never cut my hair and its length nearly touched my legs. Not to mention it was ratty and unkempt. but.. I didn't care about it. I was not vain in any way. Instead, I was just so happy that he was finally telling me what to do! He was giving me a direct order. How it would fit down the sink? I had no clue. "Thank you.. Thank you so much!" I was beaming with happiness, my voice doing a strange squeak as he grabbed the implements and got to my new work.

 My hands were shaking. My whole body was, really. I had been starving. I had been worried and scared. So it was not easy to chop off my hair. It didn't help that I was frantic to get it over with. Chop. Chop. Chop. Long longs fell into the sink, making a mess of it. There was only so much I could do without a razor but I tried my hardest to get every hair. I ended up slicing at my ears and poking my scalp in my desperate process. Eventually I filled up the whole bowl of the sink with hair, hopelessly unable to make it go down the drain. I apologized profusely, opening up the medicine cabinet to put away the new tools he'd given me. When I looked back down, every hair was gone. The sink was mostly spotless. There was just one mess. A scattering of smaller locks of hair spelling out 'thank you. I love you.'

 I couldn't keep from crying. I let it all out. He was still here for me. The only thing in the world that I still had. The ring on my hand would be a reminder but his gifts were not free. I was relying so much on him that I didn't think he would ask for more. I was so so so stupid. I was so selfish and mean to assume he would always help me just for little bits of blood here and there. I had to contribute more.

 He started asking for more instantly.

 When I woke on the floor I noticed that my livestream had garnered a comment. Or a set of ones from several usernames.

 Ginny P : Give
 Irene J: Me
 Vicky Q: Your
 Evian S: Skin

 It had to be him. I had received no contact from the outside world before so there was no doubt in my mind. I smiled and had a skip in my step as I went to the bathroom. He asked and I will provide. It's only right. After ALL he's done for me. It was tougher this time. I broke my box cutter and finished off with my survival knife. I carefully peeled at my skin. Much harder than peeling a potato, that's for sure. In fact, I barely felt the pain at all. Just elation as each careful strip was pulled away. I did my arms, three straight lines from elbow to palm on each. Just as before, I didn't see the skin vanish down the drain. Instead there was a box of heavy duty bandages in the basin. I noticed that it had.. Japanese characters on the box? but I couldn't read any of it. I just strapped my arms tight.

 When I closed my medicine cabinet there was a new message there: "pretty".

 ***

 My stream had reached a landmark amount of viewership, it seemed. The number was big but I didn't understand how much so. I stopped counting after a comma. It was all too much. My head was fuzzy. My mind felt in a constant state of flux. It was hard to walk and harder to speak. I slept more now than ever only waking for what felt like moments at a time and only to tend to him. He asked for more. Always more.

 but today's request was different.

 I found a piece of paper hanging from a small spiderweb like thing in the center of my room. "I love you. Give me all of you. I love you. Give me all of you. I love you."

 I knew today was my last and I felt such an overwhelming happiness. I closed my laptop and bathed the room in pure darkness as I went to the medicine cabinet. My eyes.. Had adjusted. Or.. One of them had. I could see an outline of my figure in the mirror there. My skin was so pale and my flesh was sunken. I pulled off my clothes, once the perfect size and now so baggy they hardly stayed on. My bones were poking out everywhere they could. I smiled, a toothless smile. One eye gouged and the hole open and blackened as though something had taken root in it. My nose was slit down the middle. The tips of my fingers had all been cut off minus one, the one that held my ring was spared. That ring itself as filthy as ever leaving a rash on my skin so intense that it seemed to be spreading to the rest of my hand. I felt so happy.. He still thought I was pretty. He still loved me. He still wanted me to be there with him.

 So I bowed my head low, kissing the drain of the sink.

 I love you. I love you so much.

 I think my livestream is still going. Is anyone watching me? Watching an empty room? What kind of strange person would do that?