In my life, I had found myself in a plethora of crazy and improbable situations, but lying on an object that only loosely resembled a couch, listening to a creepy lady with a sword, who was posing as my therapist, was truly one of the highlights. And not the good way. It was most definitely one of the strangest experiences of my existence.

"Alright, so, we're just gonna chat a bit to figure out where exactly your problems reside," she started.

"Sure. But I don't think this is going to help."

"Who knows? And who cares? We need to try something before your world gets torn apart entirely. So, let's start from the very beginning."

"You mean my birth?"

"What? No! Nobody's curious about that! I mean what made you even think about... well..."

"Killing myself?"

"Sure. I wanted to find a more cosy word for it, but fine, let's just stick with this."

"Well... It was a really stupid reason."

"That doesn't matter! Look, I once stole a horse because a friend of mine ate my birthday present. We all make stupid decisions sometimes.

"You what? He ate what?!"

"Not important! Just tell me what was going through your head exactly at that moment. Because it surely left its mark on you. Maybe if we talk about it, we find a way to take some of that trauma away. So come on, speak!" she urged me and grabbed one of the square bocks from around the table so that she would have something to sit on.

"It's a long story."

"Oh, I hope! I've had nothing to read, see, or listen to for what felt like thousands of years. So come on. I crave some trauma!"

Flic was... odd, to say the least, but I had no reason not to listen to her. After all, what more could I lose? I was prepared to do absolutely anything just for the faintest glimmer of hope that things would get better again.

"Alright, so, when I was 21, I was studying at a university. And to kinda entertain myself, I was writing a simple story. It was essentially about how each student at a school had their own secrets, sometimes even supernatural, and how life with them can be difficult, yet fun at the same time. It wasn't meant to be anything complex. I would just look at a person, think what they might be like, and then develop that idea into a chapter or two."

"Huh. That actually sounds like a fun read."

"Ah, thank you. I'm flattered, but you are not the first one to say that. And that is kinda the problem. You see, my friend once found the story on my laptop and when I told him about it, he urged me to publish it. Which is kinda what I did."

"Okay... I can see where this is going. Although I don't understand how could he see the story on the top of your lap, I can imagine where you're going with this. So you published it and people didn't like it, right? And that made you hate your creations even in the future?"

"No, quite the opposite. The book was an incredible success. But... not because of what I intended. Critics and academics claimed that it was a revolutionary look into the true lives of students. That it was a complex satire referencing how life can be difficult for a young adult and how each of their supernatural problems represents something in the real life. They called it brilliant. I started winning awards, selling incredible amounts of copies, and giving all sorts of interviews."

"Huh? Isn't that a good thing? Your work got recognized by even the elites of the industry!"

"But that's the problem! They saw something I never intended for the book. And I was... too afraid to tell them the truth. So I accepted all the awards and it wasn't good for my ego. I started to write more and I loved it. With the money I made, I decided to quit my studies and become a full-time writer. My next book came out only half a year later and nobody liked it. It was awful. Every single review was talking about how the book lacked the brilliant references of the first one, but I didn't even know what the references were, to begin with. I felt more and more like a fraud and a failure. But I kept writing. I decided to keep trying and it worked out. My books were selling quite well and even though I lost quite a lot of readers, I still had enough of a fanbase to keep doing it as a job."

"I see. But the bad feelings never left, did they?"

"No, they didn't. For most of my life, I've been chasing that perfection. To make the greatest book that would rival the first one. But no matter what I did, I was always just slightly above average. And despite trying so hard, I just couldn't help but feel bad about each negative review I got. Eventually, I just had enough. That night, when I read the latest batch of negative comments, I realized that I didn't like my life as it was. But what else could I do? It felt like such a crucial part of my life, I didn't know what I could be if not an author. But staying the same felt harmful as well. So I... I burned the books and thought that perhaps my life was not worth trying to begin with. I WAS STUPID OKAY?!" I shouted at her almost instinctively. Tears rushed into my eyes. "And then I just woke up in this world and... and I just kept making mistakes. I saw people dying, heroes turned into terrible people, and everyone resenting me for what I've done to them in the stories. It just hurt so much! The idea that I've been destroying the lives of actual living people and for what? For recognition? For money? Fame? What kind of a terrible person does that?! And I tried to fix it, was helped even, but they still died. They died because of me!" All my self-control went out of the window. I was crying. A flood of tears turned the whole image of the room into nothing but a blurry mush. Just recalling these events felt like someone was ripping out my organs one by one.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Hey, dude, stop."

"It's terrible, is it not?" I sobbed without even looking at her.

"Well... have you looked around?"

I wiped the tears out of my eyes and although the flow would not stop, at least now I could see my surroundings a bit more clearly. The entire room was huge. About the size of a high-school gym. And everywhere I looked, there was his face. Shade after Shade, standing around like a massive crowd, all of them staring into my soul.

"Dude, you're really messed up," Flic said when she swiftly counted the approximate number of my manifested dark selves. I couldn't bring myself to say anything I sat there and waited for a storm of insults to start any second. "Listen, dude, you're putting a lot of blame on your shoulders but for what reason? Yeah, you fucked up. We all do sometimes. You took your own life, I helped open the door into the Void. We all make mistakes. Big ones sometimes too. But you had no idea what would happen if you burned those books. If the result bothers you this much, then I know far too well that you wouldn't actually do it if you knew what you were doing. And hey, you tried your best to fix it. Sure, people died because of it, but there are casualties in every battle. In every war. But you did not intend to kill them. And if they didn't know that, they wouldn't have followed you in the first place. They did so because they believed in you. So dust yourself off and take their belief to heart! Don't dwell on your past mistakes! Forgive yourself and move on!" What Flic said, or more specifically shouted, was indeed inspiring. I couldn't ignore that. Yet I could see it in the eyes of every Shade. That hatred. Hatred, rooted deep inside their very soul, aimed right at me.

"Forgiveness? For that little waste of life? Not a chance!" One of the Shades shouted and all of them immediately started pointing right at me. For a second, I could feel even more tears digging their way to freedom, but they were stopped as a following set of events caught me completely off guard. Flic moved incredibly fast. I could only see a yellow smudge where she stood before. She rushed towards the Shade that spoke first and with a movement so swift it didn't even leave a memory, she cut him right in half.

"Don't listen to these fuckers. You work it out in your head. Take some deep breaths, and calm yourself down a bit. I'll handle the commentary," she told me before throwing her sword onto her shoulder and turning back towards the Shades. "Alright, shitheads! Welcome to your personal nightmare! We are in the Void. There is no pain, there is no death, there is nothing here, but you morons aren't even alive. You're created from the hurting mind of a fallen god. This means you can be cut down! So come on then! Wanna insult him? Get through ME first!! Let's see how many of you fuckers can I kill under an hour!"

I could not bring myself to say anything. She moved so far that neither of the Shades could react. Just looking at her was eye-straining. They were all dropping like flies, getting cut down in swift and precise strikes of her blade. It took them a few seconds before they could pull themselves together and finally start attacking back. And although their numbers were far greater and constantly replenishing, their coordination was simply no match for Flic's speed and precision.

I stared at the commotion for a while before finally realizing what my role in all of this was. The Shades were here because of me. My mind was creating them and so the only way to stop them for good would be to calm my nerves and at the very least regain some simple clarity. But how? I did not understand how something like this could be done. How could I just forgive myself after all that I have seen and done? How could I just move on?

Flic continued to cut her way through the army of dark thoughts. Finally, some of them have been managing to fight back. An occasional punch here and there, someone grabbing a part of her body to slow her down, or pretty much the ever-present attempt at surrounding her, which always resulted only in more dead Shades.

I crossed my legs, straightened my back, and closed my eyes. "Deep breaths," I kept repeating, trying my best to keep my breathing steady. I went through everything Flic told me, along with the words from Jack. Something about it was so strange to me. The Deaths believed in me because they thought I was their saviour. They knew that they had to believe because without it I wouldn't be able to gain enough confidence to save the world. Granted, I still couldn't save it, but at the very least they had hope. But Jack tried to help me out as well. I took everything from him. His family, his friends, and his home. Yet he still tried to give me some advice. And Flic, a person I barely knew, did the same. Fighting my darkness for my own sake, despite knowing me for only several hours. What if perhaps even the Deaths weren't doing it just for their own sake? What if they too wanted to help me because they felt bad for me? Many thoughts went through my head, both dark and pleasant. I went through everything that happened up until this point. There was something I was missing. Something crucial I had to find out in order to even have the slightest of chances to save anyone.

It was impossible to tell how much time has passed. Flic stopped counting the killed Shades somewhere around two hundred. She raised her sword to strike down another one, yet it disappear right before her eyes. For a moment it caught her off guard, but not enough for her to let her guard slip. She simply looked around for a different target that would be the closest to her, yet there was nothing. Not a single Shade remained in the room. Flic looked around to confirm that and once she made sure the place was truly clear, she turned to me.

"You did it! You forgave yourself! You've beaten your own darkness!" Enthusiasm could be heard in her every word.

I opened my eyes, looking into hers. A couple of tears slid down my cheeks. "No, I haven't beaten anyone."