Fiction is any creative work, chiefly any narrative work, portraying individuals, events, or places that are imaginary, or in ways that are imaginary. 

The blood and the mud under his chipped fingernails are accumulating fast. But he has no time to clean himself, it feels like it’s been a year since he has had any water. Grabbing a black plastic bag, Jason skilfully wraps Apha’s lifeless body. This time it took him less than two minutes to wrap her. Pulling the wrapped body onto a sack and dragging it across the floor, moving like a snake through his own house, dragging the body through the house; heading outside, across the lawn, over the road and into the woods. He doesn’t bother to look around him; this area has been quiet for about a year now, no one comes here, not even the birds, his only neighbours are the trees and the river down in the woods.

The hole he dug seems less deep than it did the day before, “Why I am being tortured like this, is beyond me’’ he whispers to himself  “but I have to take it as it comes’’.

Placing the body next to the hole, he grabs his shovel and starts to dig and dig. It doesn’t seem like anything is happening, the hole is not getting any deeper, and it’s not getting any wider, but the mud next to him is accumulating and the shovel is getting heavier while the sun is setting, it’s getting cold, he can’t feel his fingers anymore. ‘’Why is she doing this to me?’’

‘’Should I just call it a night? Seems right, she might be back tomorrow anyway, but then again, what if she doesn’t come back, I should just do it right, until she lets me go, digging is useless right now, but at least I can give her a proper burial’’

It’s strange that these words feel foreign to him when he says them, considering he has been saying them for the past year. He shoves the body into the grave and slowly starts to cover her up while singing her favourite song.

… Song

Walking back is nothing less of hell, his hands are frozen, bleeding and so muddy, it feels like he is carrying a bag of bricks on each one of his shoulders and each one of his feet. At this rate, he will have a hunchback by next week.

Approaching his door, his ears are blocked with anxiousness, his stomach tuning like a tornado. Why is it that he is nervous every time this moment comes, considering he has been doing this for about a year. ‘’She has to leave me alone eventually, she can’t actually do this forever’’. Jason slowly pushes open the door. Silence. Could she really be gone? Stepping further into his living room, nothing, no one sitting on the couch, nobody on the ground. Unbelievable. Falling to the ground in relief he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, it feels like he was being choked a minute ago. He lets unconsciousness take him into its arms, he deserves it.

But the gods are not that kind, just before he is completely engulfed in his peace, there is a thump on the ground, he knows that sound all too well. Jason sits up and opens his eyes to see Apha standing over him, a crooked smile pasted on her face, next to Apha is Apha’s body, laying naked, with cuts and stab marks all over it.

Weakened, Jason just starts crying, ‘’Why are you doing this to me’’ he gets up to look her in the face ‘’I’m not the one who killed you, Why are you torturing me’’ ‘’because, Jason, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have killed myself’’ ‘’Apha, I’m sorry’’ Jason weeps

‘’It’s all in his imagination’’ Dr. Park says ‘’We’ve been observing him for about a week now, and all he

does is drag that sack around the room and cry while singing that song’’

She hands her notebook to the police officer next to her.

‘’It seems he is in his own little hell…”

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