6 – The Mark.

An hour after being pressed for questions at the hospital, Bart was discharged. He waded through the flooded streets of Eldridge, umbrella over his head as the downpour continued.

Bart had his uncle to thank. Despite being a no-show most of the time as a result of his photojournalism career, he was always a call away.  All it took was one call from the hospital staff for him to send money enough for several days of hospital confinement and medication - but Bart didn't have plans on staying in that ICU. Not when the doctors and his colleagues still wanted to ask him about his delusions.

"...they're not delusions."

Bart gripped at the umbrella handle. No matter how much they tried to warp his thinking, they couldn't convince him. He knew better than to assume everything that happened to him before fainting was a mere hallucination.

The unsettling feeling from the lunar eclipse.

The raging inferno that engulfed his left hand.

He never imagined them. They were all real.

Though... he had no plans on convincing them anymore. It would just get him involved way more than he should. 

The rain died down by the time Bart reached his house. By then, the eclipse had already ended, and the moon that greeted him was the pale one partially veiled by the clouds. Unlocking the gate he shuffled inside and closed the metal entrance behind him. He quickly entered through the front door, took off his shoes and went to the dining table. 

As expected, there was dinner in the form of mushroom soup and rice - but no sign of his uncle. Bart shrugged and plopped his bag on an empty chair. He quickly changed into a more comfortable t-shirt and a pair of shorts in his room before returning to the table. He sat down, clapped his hands together and prayed.

In his head, Bart hoped his uncle had his fill of food before heading out.

And he can only mull on the fact that he was once again, on his own.

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Bart couldn't remember the last time he ate with his uncle.

Then again, if he ever had dinner with him, it would be over in a flash given how both he and the latter would be tired as hell.

Bart went on with his usual schedule: washing the dishes, making sure all the entrances of the house were under lock and key, and then turning in for the night. He headed to his room as soundlessly as possible. Sitting by the side of his bed he allowed the silence to draw in for a moment of contemplation.

He never expected a single day in his life would turn out that twisted.

Bart scrutinized his left hand. The hospital doctor claimed that since he fainted, he had been writhing about his hand being on fire when in fact, it never was. In an effort to ease mental pain, they applied numbing cream and kept it heavily bandaged.

Bart traced a finger to the center of his palm. He felt the need to see for himself. He wanted to see his hand with skin intact. No burns. No scorch mark.

... a mark...

Bart remembered the dream. Something manifested in the center of his palm after a flash of hellish light. A sight that sent a chill up his spine.

The sound of his phone alarm ringing caused Bart to check the screen.

22:30.

Bart sighed. It was already pretty late. He didn't have the energy to keep worrying about what had already passed. He turned towards his drawer. Pulled it open.

On the very bottom of it, wrapped in a towel, was a dull knife, gleaming yet evidently unpolished.

Bart gripped the knife by the handle. He stared at it with length, intentions clear on what he planned to do. Without hesitation, he placed the dull blade flat in his right palm. His hands closed on the rested metal. He closed his eyes.

He applied pressure, and the edges of the dulled knife sank into the corners of his hand. Small flickers of pain surfaced - but this pain, he was used to.

It was something that Bart started to do months after his parent's passing. As if to punish himself for the inadvertent death, he would imagine that blade cutting deep into him. Everyday, before he slept.

He would brandish that dulled blade in hand. Rest it on either of his palms. Close his hands on it and press. Th edges would cut his palm, but never bleed profusely. They would send miniature jolts of pain - and after a while, he would clean it and his hand and roll to sleep, flashes of pain still fresh on his head.

It was a punishment he chose rather than live everyday, the thought of his dead parents haunting him ceaselessly.

It was better than driving himself to the length of suicide.

15 minutes later, Bart cleaned the knife and returned it to the bottom of the drawer. He cleaned his hand and realized it was already filled with scars piling on top of the other.

Compared to this...

The pain he felt when his hand burned before his very eyes almost killed him.

Bart closed the lights of his room. Sleep was the only thing in his mind now. Tomorrow... was another day. School life would resume with or without him.

As his eyes fluttered to a close, he didn't really pay attention.

He thought there was a dark mass standing right next to his bed.

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<A dreamless sleep.>

Bart bolted up to stretch his arms. The rays of the sun gleamed past the window pane. He woke way ahead of his phone alarm again.

Not that he complained about that, though.

Still... to have not dreamed anything after everything he went through yesterday.. the last dream he had probably took out all the creative imagination in his head for the night.

Bart glanced at his left hand. The bandage had already fallen off on its own.

He froze.

His hand was a spotless clean, amidst the sea of healing gashes he inflicted on himself before.

Except for one particular detail.

On the center of his palm.. was a miniature burn that formed into a particular symbol.

Three spirals - two above and one below.

Three lines extending between the gaps of the spirals.

Three bold lines housing the spirals and the lines, like a roof and two pillars.

And below it, a shape like fire.

.....

"....no... way."

Bart felt like his heart would stop.

It was the mark from his dream.

The mark of a gateway.

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NOTE: @JeielYozama here! The line between reality and the dream is already becoming a tad blurry for our protag. The symbol he's seen by the way.. is a sort of important sigil. A reminder of what's about to come. Then again, what was that dark mass watching him as he slept? Stay tuned! xD