“Kill yourself”
2 simple words were uttered, yet the power contained within them was unimaginable. The meaning, simple, the intent, simple, it was all so simple… all so tempting. They reverberated in the room, in my mind, bouncing off of every other thought and memory, travelling to the core of my being. The sweet dream of the end, the end of all this pain, this suffering, these shackles, they were drawing me in and my previous convictions couldn’t pull me back.
“It’s so simple, so easy… so why haven’t you done it yet?”
I was right, why haven’t I done it yet? Was it the words of encouragement uttered by others which always forced me onwards? Maybe it was the fear of being reduced to a simple, fleeting construct in the Weavinel, subject to the whims of fickle, ever changing creatures led by their temporary thoughts and emotions. Perhaps it may be my obsession with efficiency and lack of waste. After all, I’ve come this far, what would be the point of pushing through all those if trials, going through all of that agony just to end everything when it’s just starting to ease? Or was it the eternity of suffering which may lay ahead of me, fused with others into an amalgamation of pity and oppression just to envelope others for an eternity, or to become one with the end, the darkness which exists between worlds, warped into the beings which have brought upon us hell?
No, these were all pathetic excuses for that primal, barbaric part of myself to continue living, to continue struggling in futility for as long as possible. Why does it want to struggle?
I looked up, staring at the reflection in the mirror while my arms clenched the sink, tensing, trembling.
Darkness had swallowed the room. My hair was flayed out, creating a spider's nest which entombed me, promises and contracts weaved within them as my hair bound and strangled me, forming into a silhouette behind me. A lack of eyes stared into mine, looking at itself through the reflection, it stated no answer, only whispering sweet promises into my ear as it desired freedom.
“Free me” I stated.
My words once again echoed, repeating in my head, becoming more firm and convincing as they repeated.
“Free us” they stated.
The compulsion strengthened.
I looked to the mirror for answers, staring at my eyes.
My eyes reflected my state; my pupils, pitch black, so dark and empty the Void looked full. Irises, brown with streaks and dots of ethereal light dancing around. My sclera, normal white with streaks of black connecting to their counterparts in my irises.
I stared straight into my soul, it’s state was changing, shifting as it seemed to struggle. But why is it struggling? It was such a logical, simple, easy decision, so why does part of me disagree? All I had to do was to end all of this, end myself and free myself. But it was so difficult.
Despite the lack of light, everything was so clear. After all, years of navigating in the physical and metaphorical darkness made it easy to see in it.
Why was there such dysfunction, such conflict within me? I couldn’t see them from the simple reflection of light from the mirror.
My heart gradually increased its volume, beating louder until it became a war drum, pounding with vigour as it raised morale, but why now?
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Suddenly, I was no longer in the bathroom; the dark receded as orange light came flooding in, the walls receding into non-existence as the accursed environment came into view. An ocean of red ash flooded the plains, crags of brimstone formed bigger walls to trap me, I was back in Bjamkignier.
In my hands were no longer on the sink, instead, they strangled the fresh remains of Lkanihen. His radiant, snowy feathers had lost their glow as they bathed in his blood, dulling as if the blood had rusted them, ash glued onto them. His straps and sachets lay around him, cut and burnt as pools of concoction leaked out of them. His six legs were all bent and twisted, bone jutting out of his skin, his claws severed and rended into his body. His avian body was littered with cuts, bruises, and errors.
Each and every wound caused by. My. Own. Hands.
The memory of his state would forever haunt me, chain me to misery and curse me for eternity, even if he wished for this outcome and I sought to fulfill his wish, even as he warped from a person to a beast of disparity and survival, a state which he didn't want to be remembered by.
His dull, singular eye reflected what he saw, for the other had my weapon piercing through his eye and out his head.
An empty face, devoid of all feeling despite the blood dripping down the face. A plethora of scars reminding me of what I’ve been through, of what I’ve done. The Puppetear’s Pattern was present on my cheek, despite this being in a time before our encounter, it was engraved there. Cuts, pierces, burns, scars, and remnants of all types documented my survival. My hair, no longer clean and ordered, drenched in all kinds of fluids as ash clung to it. Yet that was all on the outside, I couldn’t help but notice my eyes and what lay inside.
An unstable creature made of lacking strands.
Despite having arms, legs, torso and head, it was no human. Spots of light flickered inside of it, isolated, confined, temporary as chains soon formed and snuffed out their meagre existences. Yet, inside, beneath the futile attempts by the strands to cover it, a burning whirlpool illuminated the labyrinth enclosing it. Its flames, swirling around and spitting on the chains, burning the weaker ones which attempted to encumber it. Yet, it still lay bound inside of the creature, trapped by the construct of threads woven around it and the many beings similar to it, all originating from a faint symbol where a heart would approximately sit within the creature.
It was a simple tome, chains criss-crossing over it, binding the item and preventing it from opening, blinding the many eyes which emerged from the covers. Yet they still stared straight into the looker’s soul, entrancing the viewer in terror. The dim glow of the symbol was artificial, powered by the entities which lay inside of the creature, yet impressive nonetheless. Markings lay on the creature's skin, anchoring it to reality, otherwise it would have unravelled a long time ago, becoming another horror in the lands of nightmares. They anchored it to life, forcing every step it took to be one of survival.
Tears clouded my eyes.
I no longer looked at myself, but my fallen companion. What lay in his eyes was no longer a brother, but a mindless beast. An empty husk of someone who we could trust our lives with, to confide with when the pressure of the abyss is too much to handle. Hate and desperation. Only those remained in his eyes, not the memories we made nor the marks which made him as an individual and anchored him to sanity and reality, what was left was a powerful beast corrupted by madness, not even someone who crumpled to weakness and wiped their Pattern of themselves.
The sorrow of it all: of surviving, of sacrifice, of loss. I’m… tired, I just want it all to end. I can’t continue walking with all of these memories hanging on to me, with all of this trust. It's just too much for me. I’m not as powerful as any of you despite my survival, I'm not even Ruptured, I'm just a twisted being who can only rely on tricks to get by the skin of his teeth.
Please, forgive me, everyone, I'm sorry, but I can’t go on any longer, especially not when all of you have decided to sleep in my arms, leaving us, leaving me alone.
I hate this.
I despise myself.
I loathe my weakness.
A torrent of memories washed over me, stirred by my striking heart.
The inability to act, the pain. The hesitation in times of importance, the wounds. The weakness of myself and my subject to the will of others, the knives. Memories of weakness doused my wounds in salt, burning away at me, etching itself into my very being. Even at the crossroads of success, I'm unable to act, hesitating while the weakness forces me to succumb, to become this pathetic, pitiful being.
I was tired of all this.
“You can do it once again, you can push through to the end, there’s only a little bit left” The creature encouraged me with its calming, alluring words.
Those words, those sweet, encouraging words. So much like all the ones spoken to me in the past, allowing me to astray myself from weakness even if such moments of momentum were temporary. I no longer need to hesitate, I no longer need to think, I just need to act, to do what I’ve always done.
My arms, no longer trembling, no longer feeling, reached for my leg strap and pulled out a small canister the size of a battery. I mechanically placed it inside of the syringe, inserting the needle into the Blayfenat’s symbol inside of the Seeker’s, aligning with a ring where most boosters were injected.
I could feel the needle near my heart, each beat quaking the body as if it were a drum, one just waiting to pump blood and drugs throughout my body.
I stared into Lkanihen’s eyes one last time, seeing what he’s become, the reflection of what I am, what I’ve become, and the current state of my soul. I took a deep breath, then released it.
I could feel everything becoming dull, my limbs, my senses, the lights bound inside me, and my thoughts. They all slowly faded into the ocean, my body peacefully sinking. And then I closed my eyes.