Immortal. Punisher. Protector. Mesmerizer.
There is something living inside me.
I have never told anyone.
Not my family.
Not my friends.
Not the doctors who spent years trying to explain why I sometimes wake up speaking languages I have never learned.
Not the priests who told me to pray.
Not the woman who once looked into my eyes and whispered:
“There is someone else in there.”
I told her she was imagining things.
She wasn’t.
Because sometimes…
I can feel it breathing.
I DIDN’T KNOW I WASN’T ALONE
It began when I was a child.
I remember waking in the middle of the night.
The room would be dark.
My parents would be asleep.
And something would be standing beside my bed.
Not outside.
Inside me.
I couldn’t see it with my eyes.
But I could feel it.
Tall.
Ancient.
Patient.
It never spoke with words.
It spoke through instincts.
Don’t go there.
Don’t trust him.
Run.
Fight.
Wait.
And whenever I ignored it…
something terrible happened.
As a child, I thought it was imagination.
As a teenager, I thought it was trauma.
As an adult, I finally understood.
It was protecting me.
But protection was never its only purpose.
THE FIRST TIME IT KILLED
I was twenty-three.
A man followed me home one night.
He wasn’t supposed to be there.
I knew that.
The creature knew it too.
I remember the footsteps behind me.
One.
Two.
Three.
Getting closer.
I ran.
The creature whispered:
Turn around.
I didn’t.
Turn around.
I kept running.
Then it screamed inside my skull.
TURN AROUND.
I stopped.
The man grabbed my shoulder.
And something happened.
Something that still wakes me up.
My body moved before my mind did.
I remember his face.
I remember his fear.
I remember my hands.
And then…
silence.
When I looked down, he was on the ground.
Dead.
I had never killed anyone before.
I haven’t killed anyone since.
At least…
not knowingly.
I called the police.
They asked what happened.
I told them the truth.
“I don’t know.”
They didn’t believe me.
Neither did I.
But that night, lying in bed, I finally heard the creature clearly.
For the first time, it spoke.
“I saved you.”
I whispered:
“From what?”
It answered:
“From becoming his victim.”
THE PUNISHER
Years passed.
I learned its rules.
It didn’t punish everyone.
It punished cruelty.
A man who abused his wife would wake up screaming after seeing things nobody else could see.
A corrupt businessman who destroyed families would suddenly abandon his fortune and disappear.
A murderer would sometimes walk into a police station and confess without understanding why.
A man who hurt children would begin hearing their voices every night.
And I knew.
Because the creature showed me.
Not dreams.
Not visions.
Memories.
The memories of the people who had been hurt.
I would feel their pain.
Their terror.
Their helplessness.
And then the creature would whisper:
“Justice.”
I began to fear it.
Because justice is a beautiful word until you realize something inside you has decided what justice means.
THE PROTECTOR
But there were times when it saved lives.
Once, I was driving home late at night.
The road was empty.
Suddenly my hands turned the steering wheel.
The car swerved.
I screamed.
A second later, a truck crossed the intersection at impossible speed.
If I had continued straight…
I would have died.
The creature said nothing.
I whispered:
“Thank you.”
For the first time, I felt something strange.
Warmth.
Almost affection.
And I understood.
It didn’t want me dead.
It wanted me alive.
But then I asked the question that terrified me.
“Why?”
The creature answered:
“Because I need you.”
THE MESMERIZER
The most dangerous thing about it wasn’t its strength.
It was its beauty.
Sometimes, when I looked into a mirror, my reflection would smile before I did.
Its eyes were mine.
But older.
Much older.
There was something hypnotic about them.
People couldn’t look away.
I discovered that accidentally.
A frightened stranger once confronted me.
He was angry.
Aggressive.
Ready to attack.
I looked into his eyes.
And said:
“Go home.”
He stopped.
His face became peaceful.
He turned around.
And walked away.
I stood there shaking.
The creature whispered:
“They see what they want to see.”
“What are you?”
No answer.
“Why can you control them?”
Still nothing.
Then:
“Because you are looking at me.”
THE CREATURE HAD A NAME
I spent years searching.
Ancient manuscripts.
Religious texts.
Folklore.
Mythology.
Occult records.
Medical journals.
Psychological studies.
I searched for anything that could explain what lived inside me.
Eventually, I found something.
Not a name.
A description.
An ancient civilization had written about a being that lived inside certain humans.
It was called:
The Witness.
Not demon.
Not angel.
Not spirit.
Witness.
The ancient text described it as:
The thing that remembers what mankind chooses to forget.
It had four functions.
Protector.
Punisher.
Mesmerizer.
Keeper.
And beneath those words was something else.
Something that made my blood turn cold.
The Witness cannot die.
Because it isn’t alive.
Not in the way we understand life.
It is something older.
Something that survives through human beings.
Generation after generation.
Body after body.
Soul after soul.
And then I found the final line.
“When the host dies, the Witness chooses another.”
I WAS NEVER THE FIRST
That destroyed me.
All those years I had believed the creature belonged to me.
It didn’t.
I belonged to it.
My childhood memories changed.
My dreams changed.
The voices of my ancestors suddenly sounded different.
My grandfather had once told me something strange when I was very young.
I remembered it now.
He had looked into my eyes and said:
“Whatever happens, don’t let it become angry.”
I had laughed.
He hadn’t.
Then I remembered my father.
The scars on his back.
The nights he woke screaming.
The way he sometimes stared into mirrors.
The way he would whisper:
“Not yet.”
I realized something.
The creature had been inside my family for generations.
Perhaps centuries.
Perhaps longer.
And every generation…
it chose someone.
THEN IT SHOWED ME THE TRUTH
One night, I asked:
“How long have you been inside me?”
Silence.
“Answer me.”
Nothing.
“How old are you?”
The room became cold.
My reflection disappeared.
Something else looked back.
Not a monster.
Not a demon.
A face that seemed impossibly calm.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Ancient.
And then I saw memories that weren’t mine.
Cities that no longer exist.
Wars forgotten by history.
Kings whose names had disappeared from every book.
People standing beneath skies filled with fire.
Civilizations rising.
Civilizations falling.
And always…
the creature.
Watching.
Protecting.
Punishing.
Waiting.
I fell to the floor.
“How old are you?”
Its voice finally came.
“Older than your gods.”
THE MOST DEVASTATING TRUTH
I expected it to tell me that I was special.
Chosen.
Important.
I wasn’t.
I was simply…
useful.
The creature needed a human body.
A human mind.
Human eyes.
Human emotions.
Because immortality without humanity becomes blind.
It needed me to experience the world.
To understand love.
Fear.
Grief.
Desire.
Compassion.
Hatred.
It lived through me.
And I lived because of it.
We were parasites upon each other.
Two beings sharing one existence.
Neither able to survive completely without the other.
Then I asked:
“What happens when I die?”
The creature answered:
“I leave.”
“And where do you go?”
“To the next.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who?”
It didn’t answer.
I opened them.
My reflection was smiling.
“You already know.”
THE FINAL CONFRONTATION
I decided to kill myself.
Not because I wanted death.
Because I wanted to stop it.
If I died, perhaps the creature would have nowhere to go.
Perhaps the cycle would end.
I stood on the roof of a skyscraper.
Wind tearing through my clothes.
The city glowing beneath me.
I stepped toward the edge.
The creature screamed.
For the first time…
it was afraid.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“You don’t own me.”
“No.”
“Then let me die.”
Silence.
Then:
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
The creature showed me something.
A future.
The next host.
A child.
A small boy.
Alone.
Terrified.
And behind him…
something ancient waiting.
I understood.
If I died…
it would choose another.
Someone innocent.
Someone who had done nothing wrong.
Someone who would spend decades believing they were broken.
I stepped away from the edge.
And whispered:
“You’re not the monster.”
The creature said nothing.
“You’re protecting them.”
Silence.
“You’re protecting humanity from what lives inside human beings.”
The creature finally answered.
“And who will protect humanity from me?”
I had no answer.
Because I suddenly realized the terrible truth.
It had never been the only creature inside me.
There was another.
Me.
THE CHOICE
For years, I thought the creature was the darkness.
I was wrong.
The darkness was what I could become without it.
The creature was cruel because humanity was cruel.
It punished because I refused to.
It protected because I was afraid.
It mesmerized because humans are easily manipulated.
It remembered because humans forget.
It was immortal because someone had to remember every debt humanity refused to pay.
But there was one thing it couldn’t do.
It couldn’t forgive.
That was my purpose.
That was why it needed me.
Because punishment without mercy becomes another form of evil.
And mercy without justice becomes another form of surrender.
We needed each other.
The creature needed my humanity.
I needed its memory.
And somewhere between us…
something new was born.
Not a demon.
Not a god.
Not a man.
Something that could remember suffering…
and still choose compassion.
THE CREATURE WITHIN ME
It is still here.
Tonight.
As I write this.
I can feel it behind my eyes.
Listening.
Watching.
Waiting.
Sometimes it whispers when someone dangerous approaches.
Sometimes it shows me the pain people hide.
Sometimes it makes me look into someone’s eyes and see the darkness they’ve spent years concealing.
Sometimes it wants punishment.
Sometimes it wants blood.
And sometimes…
it simply wants to be left alone.
I have learned not to fear it.
But I will never trust it completely.
Because immortality does not make something wise.
Power does not make something good.
And justice does not make something merciful.
There is a creature within me.
Immortal.
Punisher.
Protector.
Mesmerizer.
It has lived inside humanity for longer than humanity remembers.
And perhaps it will remain long after we are gone.
But now it has learned something it never understood before.
It has learned how to forgive.
And I have learned something far more frightening.
How to punish.
So if you ever meet me…
look carefully into my eyes.
If you see fear…
that’s me.
If you see compassion…
that’s me.
But if my eyes suddenly become still…
if my smile arrives before I smile…
if you feel, for just one second, that something ancient is looking through me…
run.
Because that isn’t me.
And the creature has just remembered your name.
About the Author
