That night Kruel was taunted with nightmares of the boy he’d bound to hell. The guy kept spitting, “Faggot, Faggot, Faggot.” And then he would begin cutting, slit slit slit, cut cut cut, chop chop chop. Alas I shall kiss the piece of human flesh. Hack hack hack. “I said I was sorry.” The black longing eyes cried, getting bigger and bigger in Kruel’s cruel dreams. “Please!” The thumb swung from the name callers lips, blood dripping everywhere. “Undo whatever you’ve done!” Kruel’s own smile flashed into his own minds eye. Oh sweety, I would but I don’t know how… “I’m suffering.” It serves you right! And then hack hack hack, cut cut cut, slice slice….
Panting and squirming in his bed, Kruel threw his eyes open in fright. “Shit! I’m a horrible person.” It’s one of my worse qualities… He resolved as he sat up from his bed, slice slice slice went the knife. Kruel noticed his door to be creaking open and the hour to be four past midnight. The light was on in the kitchen. BUMP. Kruel turned to the sudden disturbance in the night. Outside his window stood the guy, though not in flesh nor human form, though still him. There was no denying it. He had the same eyes before he was hell bound. And slightly the same thin figure? But he was made of Kruel’s garden; his plants, his earth, his potting mix. Kruel stood frozen, meeting the monster eye to eye.
“I’m sorry.” Said the monster. “For calling you a faggot. That was mean of me. I was only jealous of you… I actually thought you were kind of cute. Thank you for freeing my soul.”
Kruel was stuttering, “You’re…. welcome?”
The monster turned and left, trudging up the yard and into the street with half a garden on his back.
Slice slice slice, went the knife.
“Kola?” Kruel turned to the sudden realisation and bolted into the kitchen, naked save for his underwear, and there stood his curly haired friend with two wrists full of blood and those glaring – glaring black desperate eyes.