Who am I?

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

The bell clicking sound could be heard across the small room. Laying on a modest sized bed with thick grey duvet burying a presumed adult was Otis, the man who hated his alarm clock but never failed to say goodnight to it every midnight by setting the time before going to bed.

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

The alarm clock realising that it was getting ignored by its owner began to do a little forward and side steps as it furiously continued dinging. If it were human then it would have been seen singing and turning red at this moment, but that was already covered since it was manufactured as a red one.

Swiftly and smoothly, a large palm slammed into it as it got to the edge of the drawer beside thiie bed. Tranquillity and silence returned as the opened slowly, opposite the bed and then just as it was almost opened, it abruptly stopped after it was halfway through. The slight disturbance to the silence was gone as everything returned quiet again. Only the clock ticking sounds resounded across the room.

'Tick-tock',

'tick-tock'.

Biding it's time for the present snooze to be over, two projectiles were hurled towards the opposite end of the room instantly from the partly opened door.

'clank'

The alarm clock was knocked down and at the same time, the figure on the bed smoothly rolled out of the projectile pathway. Almost instantly he sat up with so much force that made one wonder if he was doing the cast trial for 'the Undertaker situp'. With tightly closed eyelids, he let out a wide loud yawn. Still not opening his eyes, he called out to the person hiding behind the door.

"Good morning Annie, I know it's you".

Letting out a smirk he continued.

"No, it can only be you".

Instantly, two more projectiles were hurled at him. Ducking to the right as one flew past his left ear, immediately he fell backwards, back flat and rolled out of the bed. Landing with a press up stance, he quickly swirled around to a table posture as a green tennis ball came into his view. Efficiently, he caught it with his knees pushed it up while jumping up from the ground, accurately he volleyed it with his right foot. Instantly, it banged against the tennis ball launcher and knocked it off.

'A screamer !' he could hear her light voice cheering for him.

He could see the little blue eyed chubby girl with her little legs running towards him, with outstretched hands and a wide open smile.

"Daddy!, good morning!"

He could hear her cheerful greeting, always filled with vigour and joy; the polar opposite of his. She was his joy, light and the only person who warmed his cold heart.

Feeling the nostalgic timeline, he instinctively stretched out his hands to catch her jumping body while anticipating the moment he would give his 'little bundle of joy' a tight warm hug. Alas!, memories this time was a cruel bitch as nothing came through. Second after seconds of waiting and no little child asking him if he dreamt of his princess until then he knew it was time to slip into reality before another episode occurs and wake up.

"Annie, I miss you".

Catching the last ball with his left hand he quietly muttered and walked towards the bathroom as a tear dropped from his right eye. Standing and facing the mirror whole slowly brushing his teeth, he ruffled his brown hair slowly and stared at his face. A scar ran down from his temple right above his left eye, across his eye lid and stopled just a little bit above his cheek. Cold and devoid of any emotion, his left eye was white with grey pupil. He spat out the foam and liquid from his mouth as he gulped a glass of water, swirl it around and spat it towards the sink.

'clank'

A clattering sound could be heard as a prostethic teeth fell out into the sink. White enamel and red gums, bright and shiny. It stared back at him with closed teeth, locked in a grin. He stared at the mirror once again, now with an empty mouth. Opening his smoth slightly then widely until it gave off a deep hollow vibe with pure darkness after his epiglottis saying 'hi' from deep inside.

Slowly he stretched out his long tongue and ran it across his lips, wetting both the upper and bottom fleshy folds.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He kept on slamming his head across the mirror until cracks showed and then the glass began to fall off in shapes like sharpnels.

"Annie!"

"Annie!"

"Annie!"

He kept screaming.

"Annie" He softly muttered as tears and blood slowly skid down his cheeks before hitting the sink with inaudible sounds.

"Please where are you! ? Come back to me please!"

"Daddy needs you, Daddy misses you"

With a low voice he barely whispered.

Red liquid could be seen slowly streaking down his grinning reflection. The sink which was once white was now dyed red. His head bloodied with no sign of gash because of the constant streaking of blood down his head and towards his torso. Some small pieces of glass could be seen sticking from his head and hair. He felt no pain; his eyes only portrayed one thing; the anguish welling up in his heart.

"Fuck I miss you baby girl!".

"My little angel, please where' are you! ?".

"Come back to me, please!".

With a folded fist he began to punch the already bashed mirror.

Bam!

Bam!

Bam!

Huffing and panting, he stopped for a second to stare at his hands then at his reflection from a shard of glass he slowly picked. The bathroom was a totally messed up sight. Blood, water and glass shards lay everywhere. It was like those public toilet movie scene after fight with the exception of a body out cold. His brown curly hair was already messy and dropping down his forehead. He patted it to the left and slowly muttered "oh".

His attention was at an empty socket. Instinctively he covered his left face with his left palm and peered into the sink. Right there, sat the bloodied eyeball, all stained red. He picked it up as a squelching sound was made with some blood strings forming between the prostethic eyeball and the sink. He pulled his hand away and stared back at the hollow. Turning the spigot slowly, he firmly held the slippery eye ball under the water flow and carefully watched it with an eye. He didn't stop until he ensured that there were no stains left. With great care, he pushed the round ball inside the empty space until it snuggled in perfectly. "One filled, one left to go" He quietly said while clutching his chest tightly with his right palm.

Fifteen minutes later, a cleaned and bald shaved young male human could be seen sitting in front of a reading desk with a glock 66 placed on a white napkin in front of him. In front of the pistol was a broken shard still a little bit stained with blood but enough clearance to get the job done as its owner straightened his cuffs and adjusted his tie below his neck. Wearing a navy blue suit and white shirt with a brown tie matching his hair colour, belt and brooks shoes below, the young man was dashingly handsome even with a shiny pale head. A notable point about his appearance would be his right blue eye and a left grey eye. He dialed a number while squinting at his screen. Almost Immediately the person picked.

"Hello this is Cheeries Place, what can I do for you today?" a sweet spirited voice said.

With a quick grunt, he quickly said.

"I need another mirror, the same size like the last one, but ensure the glass is thicker".

A slight gasp could be heard from the other end.

"Sorry sir, did you say thicker?"

"Pardon me if I'm curious but this would be the fifteenth one you would be buying in the last seven days sir, please may I know why" the lady politely asked. He let her complete her statement, not wanting to interrupt her. Quickly he picked up a up a brit cat food bag and emptied its contents into a savic plastic picnic bowl.

"Yes I did. I would settle the bill for both the mirror and the delivery. Take care and have a nice day".

He quietly spoke and immediately cut the call.

In as much that he won't cut off someone midway in their speech not to appear or be rude but on the condition that he or she isn't spitting bullshit, still he had no obligation to give an answer.

'All questions aren't to be answered, for some are meant to be unanswered' he mentally recalled a line by a famous poet and writer King Nezer.

"Meow!".