I walk and walk and walk and walk and walk. The door always remains both unbelievably far and extraordinarily close. I suppose that makes sense – how am I meant to start turning my life around by being forgiven through hard work and dedication if I can never get to the DAMN DOOR! No… I must remain calm. I must remain strong. I cannot let emotion overtake me – too much stress and I will never get out of Langnet’s road. What if it is the potential that I never reach the door that is keeping me from it? What if I am already here?

BANG

I bounce off something hard - pain sharply pulses through my body. Getting to my feet, the door is right here! Right in front of me! Ah… this place – the potential of anything yet nothing occurring, a gambler’s paradise. I never came here before because it is unpredictable in every sense of the word, in fact, I don’t think the word ‘unpredictable’ aptly describes the oddities that make up this place. Well… what if the cart was right behind me! I spin around and… nothing. The cart is still completely out of sight in the endless darkness. Darkness – a shiver. Do… I fear it? I stare into the darkness and remember yesterday. I came so close to death and a twisted reincarnation but my calmness and desire to do good no matter the form made such a transformation almost desirable. If everything must be a punishment, then if I see the good in everything nothing will be. I am blessed in many respects to have been changed like I am. Before, while a creature like that would have been short work, eventually I would have been killed undoubtedly after the Watcher could study me long enough. Then I would have been… well actually I don’t know if such a punishment would have been torture for the killer Fa. I probably would have relished it. Being a natural born killer means that a lot of fundamental issues of being a weak human would no longer be there and I would be able to both outsmart and overpower anyone I came across. I do wonder what the other punishments were. Removing my skill with the blade? Paralysis? I could see many different options but I suppose those would have just ended in my death, and that is not the point – although that was the aim of last night’s encounter.

Over the next few days, I trek back and forth from the door to the cart and back again, moving packages slowly until the cart is light enough to push with reasonable speed. Every time I return to the cart I see her, Sam, lying on the ground. Unmoving. I feel sick in the pits of my stomach and tears violently flow from my eyes – a feeling I am quite accustomed to now. A silver lining is that without a horse, I do have quite a lot of water remaining and something is needed to replace the tears after all this sobbing. Sobbing is such a stupid response to sadness and yet, there is a calmness to it. Whatever emotions were clawing at my throat and poisoning my senses seem to be released with uncontrollable sobs. Breathing is a different matter though, the difficulty of drawing breath while crying really does make it quite an annoying action to take at times. Before this, tears only came from a good yawn or a powerful wind hitting my face… so what should I do about Sam? Do I try and drag her back? I walk over to her and lift her head. I sit down and rest it on my lap. I scratch her forehead and stroke her neck. I sob once more, but tears don’t fall. Too much sobbing has left me exhausted, it seems. Honestly, what a useless action to take but… I understand it now. I understand its value. I get why people would cry instead of running when I… no… no! My head feels like it is about to pop! My body goes weak and numb. My heart beats faster than the wings of a mosquito – blackness swirls around my senses and seeps into my vision. I am there, Savra in hand, slowly and methodically carving the skin of a man's body while his family watches my handiwork. My cheeks are hurting from smiling. There is blood everywhere. Ropes barely hold the family down as they scream and cry. The more emotional they got, the happier and crueler my actions became. Their partner died of shock. I flayed them quickly and emotionlessly after that. I buried the children in a box with their flayed parents, with their skin lining the insides. I vomit violently. The memory is so vivid and I was… I was laughing the whole time, enjoying it! How could I?! What possessed me to do such a demonic and monstrous act? I… why am I still alive? Who would ever forgive me? Why would anyone ever want anything other than pain and torture for me? I see now that death was a mercy, and my curse is not even on the same echelon as what I put those people through. To die like that… no, one of the children was at my trail. They just looked broken inside. Apparently, they were found having eaten their parents and siblings in order to survive. They were the youngest child, now living a life of fear and hatred. Pure fear and hatred. What could I ever do in order to get forgiveness from them? I do not think an action exists that would right that wrong. All the Dregs in the world would be but a simple offering of peace for them, but that would not allow for forgiveness. I am… unforgivable. I see what you mean, Watcher. I am… I am truly awful. Perhaps the form of a monster is what I need so my body matches my deeds.

I leave Sam on the ground, forever destined to be a memory and most likely food for the massive monster that lurks throughout this place. Dragging the cart back this time is far easier than before. There are many scratches and dents from the monster’s attacks – is the watcher trying to damage this cart so I need to pay out more Dregs? I suppose it really wants me here forever, although based on my buyout, that is what everyone wants. I don’t blame them. I get to the door and with a heave, pull it open. It doesn’t budge. I push it open. Nothing. I take a deep breath. I slide the door, and it gracefully and silently opens to reveal a similar underground cavern. I let a breath out, no guards?

“Hello? Anyone here?”

I blink and am in a jail cell. What? There is a pouch of Dregs next to me, I start counting them and it seems I have made a solid 20. Really, that much damage again? It is not like these are the plane's greatest living quarters either! I could eat like a king for that price – no, I am not here to be angry at my environment, I am here to do good.

The faint pattering of footsteps running upstairs breaks the silence of the cell and the deafening howl of my thoughts. I give the room I am in a proper look and outside of my cell having a non-descript bed and bucket for a latrine, the room itself is stone. The loud snap and click of a key opening a lock reverberate throughout the room and I can feel the door’s vibrations as it grinds open. Small yet muscular women looking individual walks in.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Is that you, Fa Fumerunner?”

Her voice is smoky and commanding, yet there is a shyness to it. It is as if she is trying to be commanding while something has her tongue.

“Indeed, I would struggle to think of many who would not know me at a moment's glance. Perhaps I am not as well known in the plane of potential?”

“Oh no, we know you very well here, do not worry.”

Is she… blushing? It looks like she is trying to hold back a smile. How strange.

“Well, that makes your first question all the more confusing but no matter. What are you here for?”

She walks up to my cell and grabs the bars tenderly. She stares at me… almost longingly? Her look, tone, and actions are quite weird, to say the least. Fa the killer might have thought she was a fan, but I fail to see how anyone could enjoy my work. I am quite literally one of the most terrible people alive at this moment if I were to guess. I normally would have enjoyed that statement but… I just feel sick thinking about it.

“Say… what is it like? To kill someone? I have always been curious.”

She runs a hand up and down the bar, almost like she is trying to be seductive. This… I don’t know what is happening right now. It feels wrong.

“Well, there is a lot of blood and gore. The screams are terrible and haunting. The sadness I have caused makes me feel violently ill when thinking back on my previous terrible actions. Why?”

She looks… disappointed.

“Oh, I thought you were cooler about. Guess not – what happened? You are so different from when you were on trial.”

Cooler? About killing someone?

“Well, Langnet’s road has left me with a curse. I am no longer the evil man I once was. No, instead my evil tendencies have been replaced with a strong desire to be good. To do good. To get forgiveness for my actions. ‘Cooler about’ what? Killing?”

She nods along sadly.

“Well here, there is always the potential that you return to your old ways! Maybe with enough time, the curse can be reverted. I think this place... that I can fix you.”

Fix me?

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you obviously have been tarnished. You were so… evil.” Her voice quickly descends into a whisper “and so hot. You winked at me during the trial and I nearly passed out.” She clears her throat, “I knew then and there that you are the one for me. My true love.”

I… what?

“Excuse me?”

She just stares at me, longingly. Normally, I would trick people into fawning over me for an easy kill but this is far more intense. There is something wrong with this person.

“You heard me, Fa Fumerunner, my love. Look, I even have you here-” she pulls her top down to reveal a tattoo of my name and face over her heart. Who would want to tattoo a picture of a prolific killer on themselves? This is going from strange to deranged. “- but I suppose for now we must remain apart with bars separating us.”

I don’t know what to say except “why?”

She can’t hold back a smile “Everything about you! Your looks, the way you hold yourself, your sheer charisma, the way you talk and turn every conversation in your favor. The way you are so dedicated to your craft – everything! When you were talking about the kills you had done, the way you talked about your passions was just… it was everything. You are everything to me. You have so many fans!”

Fans? Me? What is going on? Someone has really seen and heard of all my actions and crimes, heard the mournful tales of parents, partners, siblings, and children, and thought ‘hey, I am a fan of the person who committed unspeakable horrors!’

“Tell me, what is your name? Are you a guard? Also, how can you possibly be a ‘fan’ of mine? Are you sure you aren’t thinking of someone else? I am a monster – no, I am a monster of monsters. I have killed, tortured, and destroyed. I have put people through situations that were so horrific, they were never the same afterwards. All of that and –” she is reaching her hand through the cage, motioning for me to come closer. Is she about to strangle me? I slowly move over to her. Perhaps this is all a test, a test to see if I am truly good now as I have said. This must be a test, there is no way anyone would even have the ability to look at me and think about something positive.

I walk up to her with my arms relaxed and by my side. If she wants to kill me, so be it. She grabs my shoulders and pulls me into… a hug? Wha? She looks up at me.

“My name is Zmela Cliffclimber. I am a guard here. Because of everything I have stated and so much more then you could ever know, and no, I know for sure you are Fa Fumerunner, the serial killer I love.” She kisses me. Passionately. I do not know how to react. What is happening? I take a few steps back and she just stares at me. Is this… is she a predator trying to lure me into a trap? Well, I was already lured and that was the response. Nope, she is just crazy. To love me – me?! This is not the forgiveness I am looking for.

“I do not care about your past actions, Fa. I will help you escape these bars and then we can be together forever. We share a special bond – you could have strangled me or broken an arm or something but you didn’t! I can fix you.”

That final comment managed to snap me out of whatever confused state I was in.

“Fix me? Bond? Zmela, you know nothing about me. I am cursed, and that is why I am just standing here. You know nothing about the pain or suffering I have inflicted on others. You love me? No, you love the idea of me. The idea is that you can fix someone because in your life has been nothing but mistakes that you could never fix. You stand there, thinking that we have something because of a shitty tattoo and want to talk about bonds? Nothing and no one has and will ever mean anything to me outside of my knife, Savra. I am not just a serial killer; I am something much, much worse. I don’t just kill, I destroy. I torment. You stand there thinking that I am fixable? No, I am the one who should be trying to fix what I have done. I am looking for forgiveness. You know nothing of pain. You know nothing of strife. You know nothing about me. Get the fuck out of my cell and don’t let me ever see you again. I will not leave with you or anyone. This is my punishment and I will gladly accept it. Be grateful you have your life because old me would have snapped your arms and bitten your face off for attempting to let me in. Fa Fumerunner, the generational killer is no more. I am now Fa Fumerunner, the one who is seeking redemption and forgiveness.”

I pant. Zmela takes a few steps backward, leaving me in my cell.

“Such words, I know you are just trying to hide your feelings to protect me. Oh Fa, I can’t help but love you even more.” She walks out and closes the door with a gentle thud.

Love? Me? How dare she. How dare she dishonor the memories of each person I killed. How dare she rub dirt and salt into the wounds of those who I have tortured and made suffer. How dare she think that I want or need anything outside of atonement for what I have done. I swear to Fael and Wol’zarath, if I ever see her again, I will leave her in a state of tears and horror.

I walk back to my bed and sit down. There is something… strange on the ground near me. A pouch. I look inside and there must be at least 1,000 Dregs in here. Did she really? I… do I throw this in here? What for - Fuck. Zmela is going to use this as a means to get at me, isn’t she?

My door slams open as a group of guards burst in with weapons drawn.

Shit.