I woke up

and the rapid pounding in my chest... was only matched by the rain pounding on the window. not a motel window though. a familiar window. that came with a familiar room. that brought with it a familiar... weight... in the bed beside me. i was... so scared to move. scared to disturb whatever it was that now surrounded me. scared... to turn my head and see something far different than what all the familiarity was trying to suggest. i was scared... even as that voice came. asking if i was okay. groggy. as if i’d shared my abrupt awakening. and i... couldn’t respond. i couldn’t say anything. just the voice tore at my chest so much. so deep. so sharp. it was too much. too much to believe... even as i felt that weight shift. those familiar arms curling around me in just that certain way. just that certain manner. that certain touch and scent and i wanted to embrace it back but... i was so scared...

i didn’t want to shatter it.

i could only... listen to the small smile flirt on the edge of my spouse’s voice as i was teased for having too active of an imagination. that my dreams turned that gift against me. and i felt... lips brush a kiss to my cheek...

a cheek that was soon traced by a tear.

the flirt was abandoned as worry took control. saying my name. saying it like no one ever does anymore. or ever should. just that way... that made love go without saying. our love. our devotion. and it only made the tears fall faster as i buried my face in my hands. shaking. refusing to look. refusing to allow myself the chance to get sucked into the lie. sucked into the joke, whoever’s it was. and i... begged... to be left alone. i begged for mercy. i begged... for the exact contrary of what i wanted so bad. for the delusion to shatter...

i couldn’t handle losing Alex again.

i cried as i retreated into myself. drawing into myself. telling myself it was a lie. repeating it over and over. that they were dead. that they were both dead...

Alex took my hands from my face... and kissed my lips. gentle and slow. and there was nothing left to stop me from drowning in those eyes so blue. and it was in those eyes that i listened as Alex reassured me. reassured me that i was home. that i was safe. and so were they. that it had been a nightmare. and when i still doubted, Alex threaded our fingers together and pulled me from the bed. leading me down the hall to Leo’s room. cracking the door open just enough... to see that mess of unruly hair sticking out from the covers. the rise and fall of steady breathing being the only movement at all. far away and dreaming...

and i was starting to pray to anything that would listen... that that’s what i had done. that that’s where i had been. far away. throwing blood splatter after blood spatter upon the canvas way down deep in my mind...

i lost my knees in front of that room. sinking down to the floor. hands trembling so hard... and it was with them that i clung to Alex for life and sanity. and i was clung onto in return. i could sense the confusion and worry... gnawing at Alex as i came apart right there in the hallway... all the pain and torment and loss i’d suffered... and made others suffer... running through my mind all at once...

that was the first... and last... night terror i had.

i returned... to my name. my real name.

i returned... to school. teaching. embracing the future’s brightest...

i returned... to normalcy. friends. family. home.

the Nightmare was forgotten.

Life... just went on.

years flew by.

Alex and i earned enough between us to help pay for Leo to attend Law School. last time he had come home to visit, he shown Alex and i the ring he’d bought for the love of his own life. Hannah. shy girl, but bright. dreamed of being a novelist and having a family...

Laura... was thinking of becoming a teacher. like me. even tutored other classmates in high school. she grew up so fast. it was a complete whirlwind... and suddenly she was stepping down the stairs in high heels. looking so beautiful in her pretty pink prom gown. just like a princess ready for the ball. she had herself a nice boy. Thomas. ambition to become a professional chef and someday own his own restaurant fueling his fire for life and success. a little rough around the edges, but loving. very much so.

my little girl... who wasn't so little anymore... had called home from her prom party. said she’d forgotten her camera and asked if i could drive it down. i teased her for having Alex’s memory... even as i grabbed the keys. kissing Alex on the forehead before heading out to the car.

the drive was nothing. i was stepping out into the parking lot at the hall in no time at all, but... something felt... strange. something felt wrong. i felt nervous and i couldn’t explain why. something inside was kicked into overdrive and it left my head buzzing. i tried to ignore it. started walking towards the building but... a motion behind a dark van caught my eye. everything in me... screamed to leave it. to pretend it was just a stray dog. to pretend i'd seen nothing and continue on... that i didn't... want to see what was there... but i couldn’t. i couldn't. i turned away from the school... and went to investigate...

i heard... strange noises as i neared. wet sounds. spits and splats. and, even though i saw the mass of blood before i even made the turn... i couldn’t stop my feet from moving around the van. moving me... to reveal a pale young man in a disheveled suit. red tie. crouched over a human body sprawled on the pavement. a girl. a very pretty girl. in a pretty pink prom dress. hacked and slashed and.... and clawed open. her bowls bulging out as... this... boy... tore another handful of flesh away and brought it to his mouth. eating it. eating her. my girl. my sweet, little girl. and i screamed. and those eyes flashed up to me and i swore that... he seemed... familiar...

long, pale blonde hair with pale blue eyes.

he grinned a bloodied grin at me.

and bolted down the alley.

i just... kept screaming. i screamed until someone heard. i screamed until someone called 911 as i cradled the shredded remains of my daughter in my arms... as i whipped the blood from her cold face with a trembling hand...

they never caught him.

Leo dropped out of Law school. disgusted with how uselessly it was bound in red tape. took to doing private work. came across the wrong people at the wrong time. started drinking heavily. started doing drugs. was arrested several times. assault. possession. DUI. assault with a deadly weapon. assault of a police officer. Alex and i... tried to send him to a rehab center. i told Alex it would be for his own good. that we had to be tough. that he NEEDED us to be tough to get him away from his damn dealer who only went by the name ‘Sherlock’.

he hung himself with the sheets of his room.

Alex blamed me.

one night, i came home late. wandered up the stairs. i could hear... what i was walking into, but i felt so... numb... so cold... i just... i was just going through the motions. i gently pushed open the door to our bedroom and saw a man with my spouse. scars all over his body and flashing a switchblade over Alex’s skin. cutting and thrusting and... HAVING even inch of Alex... who's wrists were tied to the headboard with a red torn shirt... my Alex... who seemed... far from against any of it... judging by the moans to go rougher...

i closed the door and walked back down the hall. a hall that seemed so dull and lifeless as it shifted and swayed in front of me... until there wasn’t a hallway. there was only stairs. stairs that my foot missed... and i fell. cracking against the steps and walls with such sheering pain that almost felt good amongst the chill in my chest... just before the sudden jolt of hitting the floor of the dining room...


I woke up.


and it was blinding white. burning blistering white. a white that was everything and nothing amongst a void of drifting whispers and muffled, rattling wheels. rattle tattle rattle across the smooth smooth floor that echoed and echoed down the endless labyrinth of white and rattling and screaming ScReAmInG SCREAMING that doesn’t stop will nevers top...

Because He Comes.

the DARKNESS amongst the blinding white. He Comes. ever still. ever silent. comes and comes and comes and the screaming gets louder and louder and louder as He picks His prey. eenie menie minie moe. catch a Runner by the toe...

but no where to Run when the doors are locked, yes?

so He comes. and comes. and comes. and comes. and marie’s guts are splattered over the walls and ceilings and they say i did it but i don’t remember that. i remember watching. i watch because if i don’t it’ll be my guts on the floor....

First they came for the Socialists. And I said nothing because I was not a Socialist.

jake disappears into thin air. orderlies in trouble for that one.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists. And I said nothing because I was not a Trade Unionist.

then daniel.... daniel daniel daniel... walked right up. walked up and stood before Him. i saw. many of us did. he stood and stared back into the DARKNESS as it stared into him... until daniel crumbled to the floor overtook by a seizure. jerked so hard he broke his own spine poor bastard. we all heard the snap and the scream and scream and SCREAM and Luke was blamed for that one. silly really. such a small frail boy. how would he have the strength to wrench that head all the way around 360-like? how would any of us? doped up as we are?

sane people are idiots.

Then they came for the Jews. And I said nothing because I was not a Jew.

He turns His head to me. tilting. to the side. bizarrey so. scares me. scares everyone. we just don’t talk about it. He is DARKNESS. meant to be Feared. menat to be. meant to NOT be. not be understood. not be not be just BE. meant ot meant to meant to be the shepard of the DAMNED damned damned damned in a circus of white circus of pretend of make believe of illusions and deception and LIES. fake walls fake doors fake everything fake fake fake only HE is real... until He isn’t anymore. until the RED bleeds in covers me suffocates me in blood. rivers of it. lakes and ponds and oceans and seas of blood RED that’s ever growing. ever expanding its reach...

and then He came for me.

and my screams echoed

and echoed

and echoed

and echoed...


I woke up.


and Morningstar is on me. jumped on me and pinned my wrists back with that beaming grin of his. tisk tasking me for oversleeping. said we were going to be late for the meeting. enjoying the fact i let him pretend he has the upperhand when we both know otherwise. when we both know i could reverse the positions so easily. when we both know... with just a handful of carefully chosen words... i could crack that lovely, playful skull of his open and leave him a gibbering mess. such was my gift...

i shove him to the floor and proceed to don my usual wear. ducking out the door with Star in hot pursuit. swearing he’s going to gut me when he catches up...

i thought he was kidding.

when he follows me into the meeting room... a rock turns to ice in my stomach as i hear the lock click into place. the room is lined by faces. familiar and not. a tension hangs, but i know not why. the stares upon me showing nothing but rage, betrayal... and intent.

they accused me of being a traitor.

they accused me of being a spy.

for Moriarty.

they said i’d been seen with him. discussing things with him. exchanging a suitcase for a bag in some little piece of nowhere. they accused me of selling out my own. of helping him kill off agents. proxies. one by one.

i denied it all. it was ridiculous. outrageous. it was a damn LIE and they should all know me better than that...

but they don’t listen.

i fought at first, but i was... far too outnumbered. they grabbed me. pinned me down to the floor with a fogged mind and broken nose. not bothering with restraints since there were... enough of them to hold me how they wanted me. so i’d know... i could fight back. i could get away. if i was stronger. if i could just get one of them to slip. and i do try. i try my best to. even as they pulled my tongue from my mouth. placing a blade beneath it. pausing. then cutting it off in an spray of blood... a piece that Morningstar happily cooked and consumed as another proxy took a pair of pliers... and began pulling out my teeth. one by one. until i was choking on blood and my jaw was exploding in agony. in too much pain to even scream...

next they... grabbed my head and pinned it to one side. The Butler placing a knife by my ear... before, ever so slowly, pressing it in. the metal cutting its way deeper and deeper until my head was ringing and i tried to scream past the blood but the pain suddenly exploded into a single POP inside my skull. there was a hot rush of blood gush from my ear and down my neck... and then they turned my head to the other side and did the same. a deafening void sucked me in. there was no sound anymore. just a sea of grinning faces... before Morningstar came and sat on my chest with a spoon in hand. saying something i couldn’t hear... before pulling my eyelid open. i couldn’t move. i could only watch as the metal came near. was pressed under my eye. curved back. and ripped out. half the world went black with a spray of crimson... and then the other half followed suit shortly after.

i couldn’t see. i couldn’t hear. i couldn’t speak.

but i could still feel.

i could feel the blood. i should have been dead or close to it... but no. i was more than alive still. more than aware. more than feeling as the blades started to get to work on my flesh. peeling off my skin. exposing muscle and tissue until i felt fingers claw into my stomach and i felt... i felt every piece ripped from me in a flood of pain and hot blood. i felt every hand. every movement. every mutilation. until i thought i’d still feel this agony even when reduced to a skeleton...

in that sea of darkness and silence and agony... i thought... i could still hear the echoes of their laughs... all those grins... spread far too wide...


I woke up.


or perhaps i hadn't been asleep at all. just a drifting mind in the endless rotation of events. endless faces bringing endless promises of change when all they offer is repetition. routine. day after day. year after year. decade after decade until the centuries roll out one by one...

upon the table. the coin spins.

heads or tails.

just heads or tails...

darkness bathes me. nearly swallowing me whole. the stillness near suffocating, but it doesn't matter. never has. never will. the darkness is no more threat to me than bullet or blade. just a thing. a thing of the mortal world. unlike me.

me.

the truest joke.

tails

there is no 'me'. not anymore. there is only the shell of 'me' left. a putrid mix of blisters and boils and pus. not but tattered rags of cloth pretending to be clothing. unlike their wearer. who gave up pretending a long time ago. pretending to have place. purpose. meaning. use.

i just spin the coin again

The Plague wills me. so i am. as is my punishment. my punishment for trying to escape. for tricking Him into the Tall One's way. The Sickness came back for me. took me. claimed me. sealing me into the Crumbling Castle. for decades i was amongst the Afflicted. for decades... my flesh swelled and broke and weeped with disease and plague and yet... death never came. death wasn't allowed. not for me. never for me. for decades the Castle was my prison...

and now the world is.

heads

now i am a walking plague. as He wills me to be. just a wanderer. a stranger passing through. leaving death in my wake. just as He wills it.

the rats stir within me

a heat comes

amber eyes grinning out from the darkness

heads

a figure melting into place on the chair across from mine. table between.

i just spin the coin again

valtiel bumped the table with a too-wide grin spreading wider. greeting me as my coin fell prematurely. the heat he brought with him nothing compared to the fever that boiled in my flesh already... even as i feel whiskers and teeth on my neck. gnawing. tearing. just one of the rats. one of the many from His Realm... who live inside  that very same flesh...

just another spin

valtiel stays for hours. talking to me. taunting me. pulling names and faces into my mind that i don't remember anymore. that are little more than ghosts. faint whispers of lives wasted from times so long ago...

heads

but it doesn't matter

tails

nothing does

heads

i talk to him. only to feed that emptiness

heads

only to feed along my Eternity

tails

as i come to realize

heads

how long

tails

forever is

tails

and valtiel just keeps...

heads

smiling at me...

tails

bumping the table...

I woke up.


i was on the floor. my head was pounding and i... i didn’t know where i was. it was a small room. like a closet. dark and dusty. i could feel the blood running down the back of my neck, but i forced myself to my feet. staggering, but making it. i thought... it seemed familiar...

and then i heard the grinding sound of a cabinet being pushed across the floor... the rattling scream of friction... and the hard BANG of a weight hit against the only door in the room with such force i thought it might break through. but it doesn’t. because it didn’t. and i hear... a voice muttering on the other side. whispering something i can’t... i can’t make it out... but i know who it is.

i shout Owen’s name.

i run to the door and try to force it open , but it won’t budge. i slam my fists against the wood. screaming for Owen not to do this. not to LISTEN to that damn Creature. that it was Evil and manipulating him and he needed to stop and think this through logically. that It WANTED to turn us against each other. It WANTED to darken the human soul to MUTILATE it until we are indistinguishable from It...

but he doesn’t listen.

because i didn’t.

and i smell gas. i hear... the ominous crackle of flames that soon goes to a roar and its so hot so searing the heat coming like WAVES. i keep yelling. keep beating on the door. hoping someone will hear me. someone will notice. hoping Owen will come back... even as i’m coughing on smoke. even as the fire breaks through the wall... and catches on the gas on my clothes. and i’m screaming. screaming until i feel blood burst from my throat as the flames take me in whole like a living torch...


I woke up.


and i’m on a bed. there’s someone else in the room, but i know already who it is. i try to stay quiet. try to pretend i’m still sleeping off the last time. the shackle from my black and blue wrist rattles a bit despite my efforts. the cuff supporting a thick chain that bolts straight to the wall behind the bed. a clear sign of my only purpose. the only purpose i’ve had since the Cult Town. it had been a mistake. the whole thing. i should never have involved him. i should never... have put myself on his radar. he’s never going to let me go now. he’s never...

it hurts to move. it hurts to just be awake as i try to ignore the other figure returning from the bathroom. until i can’t ignore it. until his weight joins me on the bed. until he’s pulling me over... and immediately backhands me when he feels me tense. feels me want to resist. and when that tears my lip open again... when the blood drips down my jaw and neck... i know there’s no stopping it. no point in even trying. his mouth claiming what i'd spilled so far. enjoying the taste... and far from satisfied by such a small sample. he cuts me. he beats me. flays off pieces of me. enjoying watching me wall up against the pain. doing my best to keep it from showing. to keep from flinching. to keep from trembling as... once again, he rapes me...

when it's over... and he looks at me after... he’s like a painter stepping back from a canvas.

admiring his own work.

and he asks me... the same question he always does.

“Do you want more, Sam?”       

for so long, i said no. i told him to burn to hell. i told him i’d rather die...

and took the punishment for it. a repeating of his work. only harder. more blood. more broken bones. more of everything. all for his pleasure. i took it. i took it...

until i didn’t want... for it to hurt anymore.

until i said yes... just to make it easier on myself. just to make the repeat... gentler. for wounds to heal... in favor of shredding my pride...

i said yes... even as every inch of me screams ‘no’ against his body moving against mine. into mine. and i want to kill him. i want to RIP him apart. but i’d tried to escape before. i’d tried and failed too often. no matter what i do, he’s constantly one step ahead of me. and it only gets worse. it gets worse... even as my body betrays me and follows his lead. even as he breathes into my ear that... in time... i will come to... want him too. that i will... come to love him... for what he does to me...

one day... after waiting so long for an opportunity to escape... any chance at all of regaining my life... i realize that no such thing was ever going to come. i realize that. and he knows it. kissing me one last time before heading out the door with Ronan. taking hands. David more than assured that i was going to begin doing... as he said i would...

not five minutes after they leave, i bite down on my own tongue. there’s a wonderful feeling about the pain that wraps around me... and an even more wonderful feeling... about the cold hand that wrapped tight around my heart... as i swallow my own tongue. choking on it... until i’m swallowed myself into the darkness...


I woke up.


or maybe it was just the gasps between the screams. the dull drag between the burning cries of my lungs and body and mind and SOUL as the door opens. the door opens and i remember. i remember everything. panicking. thrashing. struggling against the threads that i can FEEL on me that are EVERYWHERE on me and in me and the world is covered in them PULSES with them. veins that spread everywhere that ARE part of everything and all i... can do... is clutch my skull. my splitting skull as i stagger through the streets the roads the WORLD that i don't recognize because he's reformed it all. rewritten it all. screwed and torn and SHREDDED it all and i don't even...

who am i?

who the fucking HELL am I?!?

i don't remember

i don't... no, i do. i remmeber. but it's not... it contradicts. it all CONTRIDICTS. what's truth? what has he DONE to MY TRUTH?!! WHO AM I?! who the FUCK am i?!? too much, too many too many memories crammed into each other over TOP of each other overwritting overtaking i don't remember... i don't remember what's real where am i what am i doing... why... why is everyone grinning at me...?

every window reflects a memory i don't remember haivng or i do remember but it DIDN'T it DIDN'T happen that way it... it couldn't have happened that way...

it hurts

it hruts too much

too much

and i can... feel... the strings coming back...

threading up and around and through and INSIDE...

i can... hear... that laugh...

that laugh

and i feel the ground

hit my knees

as a hand

lays over my eyes

and the ddoor closes again in a rush

of burning RED


I woke up.


and i couldn't breathe. panic seized around my throat as the pains of my nightmare dug their claws in and TORE. and i flinched. recoiled. jerked from the light touch on my shoulder. the very one that had woken me. shrinking back even as the hand quickly withdrew... and there was a voice. a gentle voice. calm and low. reassuring me. reminding me... that it was just him. just David. that we'd agreed that... he would wake me up... if i began having a nightmare. that he would stop it. pull me from it. that i was back. that i was okay now....

myy hands wouldn't stop shaking

i could... still feel... his tthroat in my... in my hands. i could FEEL it feel HIM feel his body strain against my hold even as he just... let me. let me strangle him. staring up at me as i did. eyes telling me it was okay. that it was going to be okay...

just like David's eyes

the tears born in my sleeping torment just ran harder. mixing with my sweat even as i clamped my eyes shut in some feeble attempt to rein back control. in some pathetic attempt to save face... but it was useless. i couldn't stop. soon my whole body was shaking as badly as my hands. breaking apart breaking down with each partly-suppressed sob and whimper and i just... i wanted it to stop. i wanted it all to STOP i couldn't.... i didn't wnat to see it anymore... i didn't want to see him FEEL him anymore...

i was so tired... so sick... of watching my best friend die

of watching my life tatter and fall apart

of trusting

trusting each reality i was put into

only to find out it was all just another joke

another set of little red strings crafted especially for me...

laying there... i swore i could feel them... just the tiniest of threads... putting together this version of reality... until i get comfortable. until i start believing. and then the carpet is ripped out from under me again and i... i...

i can't do it anymore

i can't

i can't...

and still that voice whispers to me. trying to calm me. trying to make me believe it's not all going to go bad again. that it's not all going to FALL APART again.

i feel his hands curl around my own. stilling them since i couldn't. holding them between us. not tightly. not loosely. just holding. secure. slowly brushing his thumbs over my skin. he tells me... that Winston would forgive me for what happened. that he wouldn't want me to do this to myself. that no one is blaming me. he tells me... that he's been where i am. broken. tired. just wanting to give up. but he wants me to know that... things get better. that i can get through it. just like he did.  that i just need to give myself time... and it'll stop hurting like this...

i don't reply.

i only pull myself into his chest.

hiding in his arms.

and i weep.

i weep... for what feels like hours...

until sleep takes me again.


I woke up....

















David.

a couple of nights ago... after waking me up again... you asked me to tell you what... i see when i close my eyes. you asked me to share... one of my nightmares with you. a sliver of my hell that... you could face with me. a monster to pull from the shadows to rob it of its fright. you confessed... being at a loss sometimes during my panic attacks and paranoia... and hoped maybe it would help you know what more you could say. what more you could do...

even though you already do so much for me

more than what i'm worth

i couldn't... say anything at the time. the idea of... talking about this... i couldn't do it. i still can't. but somehow... writing it seems... less stressing. maybe cause i can trip through my words a bit better. maybe cause i can pretend its all just a story and delude myself into thinking that i'm not talking about my own life... my own... past...

whatever the reason... this is a taste of a few of the playpens the Devil made for me. i could have just printed it out and left it for you to find... but i didn't want Em finding it. nor did i just... want to hand it to you. maybe on here it feels... a little less personal. maybe it lets me hide better.

i know you're probably... going to want to talk about this.

please don't make me

please just let it rot in my skull

please...

there was a time that i knew who i was

there was a time... that i felt secure. like i had a hold of something solid. real. that i knew where i stood. where i had been. where i was going. i could see it all so clear. all i had to do is close my eyes. just close my eyes and PICTURE it. let the scenes play out like a movie in my head

but now the movies are all wrong

skewed and skipping and flickering and meshed into each other




most are lies





it hurts trying to tear them apart from each other... to unglue the solid mass of images and faces and voices that may never have said that which i hear or maybe said in another context or perhaps could be complete truth. ..


or maybe its all a complete lie



 sometimes though... i feel something that seems... right. or at least somewhat right.

i think.... i remember who Victor was. Redlight laced that name through many lies... but he was always someone i killed. in the... version. on here. it was someone i used to know. college friends or something. i don't entirely remember. i don't... like... rereading on here. most of it i don't even recall writing...



but Victor.... his eyes. its in his EYES that i think i remember. deep and desperate and just.... wide. so very wide. too wide like someone else's grin? and they reached deep into my soul and screamed why in frantic unvoiced cries because he can't... can't breathe. he was smart. tailored suit and successful. even though he was on the Run. Run from the Slender Man. like so many others. but he still couldn't breath no matter how he thrashed in the ropes no matter how he twisted in panic and horror and just... stared at me... unreal eyes begging...

to remove the duct tape i'd plaaced over his mouth and nose


he could still... get some air.


could hear it leak through his straining


and it onlyy drew the suffering out more



until i couldn't take it anymore



until i couldn't... watch anymore


even with Dimme breathing down my neck

even with her work freshly stitched across my middle



even then...


i ran and grabbed the tape. ripping it off. earning thanks even as he was gasping for breath but i just couldn't take seeing those eyes buldge anymore i... i couldn't...



and then i was on the floor



i didn't know what hit me



but you never did when it was Dimme




i scrambled back. remember the... splinters from the wood eating my hands. until i hit the wall. her further advance towards me only shrinking me further down as i promised to kill him. i swore i would. i'd kill him. but i didn't want to torture him. it wasn't needed. it wasn't... it didn't have to be like that.... i didn't like seeing the eyes like that... the muscles strain like that.... that the Whispers were quiet... that this was just for THEM. Not Him. that we could... make it quick...


i was new


Dimme had yet to break me in




that night, the prey got to see... what happens when a proxy stepped out of line.

i was put on display


a sight of blood and voiceless screams that only came to life as quivering muscles and agonized nerves. paralyzed by the drugs but oh so aware of everything...



like when Redlight had you in your mind, locked up tight? Like that, Sammy?



i could barely crawl

but when Dimme ordered me to stand, i somehow managed.



she put the duck tape in my hands for the second time that night





i hadn't saved him from anything








i'd only... prolonged the suffering







but i didn't rip it off that time






i watched the whole show


trying to keep back the bile



and he never... stopped staring at me





even after his heart stopped







those eyes stayed with me








even... after the corpse was long disposed of.















after Dimme.... was long disposed of....















still. they stared out at me.





dead eyes in the dark












sometimes.... i lay in bed awake.


                                 fully aware that David is as well. since he doesn't sleep until i am. and i know he'll come to say something. anything. just in hopes that i'll open the door just a little wider for him. that i'll volunteer a detail or two. a thought or two. of whatever is keeping me awake this time. whatever is bothering me. eating at me. chewing and gnawing until i wonder if insanity itself is a disease that you can hear munching away inside your skull...

maybe that's why schizophrenics have such a hard time communicating. thinking. piecing just the simplest sentences together...


the munching is just too loud.



and when i don't respond, he'll pull me in closer. arms wrapping around like a barrier. a shield a straightjacket maybe? until i can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath against my back. until i can hear his heart, even feel it. beating steady. strong. alive. until his breath is on my neck and then so are his lips. gentle and brief. trying to get my attention. reassuring me he was there. that i wasn't alone. that i didn't have to face anything alone. not anymore.

i know he wants to talk

he always wants to talk


so i know he's hurt... when i just nod. just nod. and let the silence stretch.


there's nothing to talk about

nothing that hasn't already been gone over.




what good would talking do?




what good has talking EVER done any of us?



 have you wondered that? these stupid blogs we set for ourselves. virtual gravestones once we're gone. we talk to each other. discuss theories and ideas and mock and humor and share the living nightmare...


but what fucking GOOD has it EVER done??


none.

that's your answer.


absolutely none. the suffering is only prolonged. we open doors that we wouldn't have otherwise known Joseph would be alive existed.  we dig our holes deeper. deeper and deeper and deeper until we're certain we're going to come out the other side. certain we're going to find something, if only Wonderland.

but no

we wake up

and realize that we hadn't been digging at all




dead eyes in the dark

 


there was a time that i lectured on here. i discussed one piece of trash after another. shifting through it all as if there was some secret truth behind it. mysterious and forbidden and so jaw-dropping that knowing it would drive you insane. the game. the GLORIOUS game that turns winners into losers and losers into something not even human anymore. barely alive anymore. barely functioning beyond flight or fight, and always choosing flight.

unless there is no flight


unless everything is in our heads


what do we do then...?




what do we do when we can't even be sure if the people around us are anything more than delusions mixed with hope? the straggled, ragged, tortured last remains of hope. hard for breath and barely a thought, but there. clinging. helpless and hopeless and miserable and just wanting to be so damn NAIVE...

it would be too easy to trust David


trust someone had given enough of a shit to bother


trust this reality




this.... whisper of a family







a place to just.... belong





















iit's just too easy








i don't even know


i don't know






i just know that it hurts



it hurts so much









and i'm so tired of hurting

days blur

thats all it becomes





i don't even  know why i'm back on here again. 




the days just blur.

sometimes it's hard for me to... really take notice of one changing to another. its been over a month that i've been with David and yet i... i still feel like... it was only last week that he... caught up to me. that my body turned without my instruction and spotted him.


i can still remember that... brief instant... when i...

felt again


when i felt the rain. cold and stinging. numbing. so sharp and clear after so long of....



nothing



nearly a month





nearly a month of... watching the world from inside my head. my mind. my cell. my prison. at first  i had sccreamed to be helped. to be HEARD. to just... but... eventually i just... watched. watched. and listened. listened to his stream of poisonous words. nothing else to do. nothing else i could do. i was his. his property. his puppet. his toy. to bend and to break. there no way out. no way... out...


i barely paid attention to David. having appeared again through that tunnel vision i had. like he had before. twice before, i think. he was chasing me. or at least my body. my puppetted body. confronting me. he was talking. shouting. calling my name as if i could answer back. i thought it stupid at the time. didnt he see in my eyes that i was already dead?

i know... my strings were tugged to run. to slash with my blades. to aim with my gun. all to keep distance. keep away.

but the third time was different. between the slashes of my gauntlet, Davi d found an opening. his hands closing on my arms. tight. then tighter as my strings pulled me to thrash. to struggle... until that drained away. and the threads that held me. that cut into my flesh and mind just a bit more with every command. the threads.... released. everything swayed. i felt.... like i was sinking. pulled out from behind the curtain to take the lead again. to fill my.... body again. it felt so strange. so forigne. so


hollow


and that grip held me up. held me from collapsing.


itwas so... painful to move again. like whiplash had rooted itself through my neck and spine. spreading its stiffening roots down my limbs.

every sound was too loud

every motion too fast

i heard... my name. a whisper. a breath of relief that sounded like a scream to me.

and my head slowly remembered how to lift. how to... obey my brain instead of the strings... and i found David watching me. his grip on my arms loosening. a victory in those eyes. accomplishment. pride.


it wouldn't last long


because more than the rain. more than the stiffness. i remember what i felt... when i saw those headlights approach. a truck speeding down the road. the light it brought bathing the cold street. washing over it.



a sweet promise whispering to me



a promise... of an End

of never returning to the Strings

of being able to run

to hide

where he could never find me


i remember... David shouted as i tore from his grip. my legs fumbling under me before remembering their purpose. running. running out onto the road. right into that warm glow. that blinding abyss. that soft promise... that... warmth...


the wheels screamed against the pavement

the horn blasting out


and then my legs were taken from under me. and i hit the windshield. glass shattering as if chattering with the rain... and then i felt nothing. for just a brief second, there was nothing around me. i was flying. floating. hovering. and then i met pavement. hard and rough and BURNING across my skin as i rolled with flopping limbs and i felt... such relief... from that pain. the world hazed over even as i felt myself get gently pushed onto my back... even as i swore i saw a... figure in red... standing on the edge of a rooftop overhead... my puppeteer... my master...


your toy was finally broken beyond repair


i thought it was over


and i welcomed... that blackness. that nothingness. i welcomed it. i welcomed the Reaper. welcomed my ride across the River Styx...


but... i woke up. with David. i can still feel with what... cold chill life greeted me back. a life i didn't want. wanted nothing to do with. no part of. it was like some sick joke. tasteless and flat. i just wanted to die. i wanted the promise. when the wheels locked up and everything jerked and cracked...


i only wanted....



to see the Road again


under that Golden Sky


i wanted my escape


i just... don't want to remember anymore



i don't want to remember how... adamant i was. how confident. how assured that he wouldn't break me. couldn't destroy me. not ME. not the manipulator of manipulators. not the idiotic piece of garbage that liked seeing life as one grand joke. a joke that had turned sour and needed some spice to liven up the mood. not me... who laughed at those who saw themselves as my superiors. who just seemed to take it... all in stride... always knowing what came next....



god how stupid was i?



no matter what i did


no matter what i tried


said


wanted


believed



it was all garbage



i know... nothing. i am nothing. perhaps that's what Father... the Slender Man... wanted to show to me from the beginning. that very first time. standing in the doorway with flickering lights overhead. tilting His head at me. little pathetic me. who wanted to inspire the young... as if i was anything special myself...
  

"...David?"

 "Hmm?"

"...Why are you...                                                                                                 

so hell bent... to keep me alive?"                                                                                                                   

                                                                                       "Because you're important to me,

                                                     and the world is better with you in it."

"...David, I'm not---"                                                                                                 

                                                                      "---It's okay, Sam. I know.
                                          I know that you don't believe it...
                                                                                  I know you're having a hard time 
                                                          believing anything right now...

                                                                                        But every once in a while... 

                                                                                                               I can still see you, Sam.
                                
                                                                                                        Who you think you aren't anymore.

                                                     You're still there.
                                                                            Beneath the rubble, you're still there. 
                                                                                                 You have no idea how amazing that is.
                                                            I'm not saying it's not a slow road but...
                                                                     you're going to be okay.

                                                                                Trust me."

 'trust him'...  because he'd been there before.

because he'd been broken and rebuilt himself from it. because he'd endured. persevered. overcome. and when i tried to tell him that i wasn't like him... that i couldn't... get past what Redlight had done to me... he only smiled and said that he was no one special. trying to tell me how much i'd done already. reminding me (as if i needed reminding) of how i could do little more than cry and claw at my own face at the beginning. how i was having "civil conversations" with him now. how i... was eating a little. resting a little, even if not entirely sleeping... how i even called him 'darling' once or twice... stupid little pet names...

i couldn't look at him



he sounded so hopeful


so... certain of me




it hurt





how could i possibly look at him... as i told him that he done all that?





as i told him that i would never...

have pushed this far. that the only reason i was still alive.... 

was because he had stolen my towel so i couldn't even throw it into the ring. 

that he'd taken it. so i couldn't give up. give in. just be damned with the whole fucking thing and just... run. run to the one place that Redlight wouldn't be able to find me.

 that David pushed me through things that i never... that...

                                                                                                                                                                  that i didn't want...
                                                                                                                                                                                                  and still don't want...


i told him
that there was no point in denying it


it was all him


i was just the puppet

along for the ride



Redlight had been right about me



i was only ever... just the puppet...

he'd been right...







and that was when David... got up and left.







it took a few minutes for me to realize... what exactly i had done.

                                                                                               what i had said.

the realization seized my throat in an iron grip. and just kept squeezing tighter.



i wanted to take it back


i wanted.... to scream in frustration. in self-loathing for my own stumbling tongue. stumbling wit and mind. how useless was i? how miserable could i be to compare the man who was draining himself dry trying to help me to the son of a bitch that ruined me? that ripped me apart and amused himself finding different ways to put me back together....? how could i...


how could i possibly hurt David like that?


i didn't want to hurt him. i didn't want to make things so impossible for him. he was the only one left who gave a shit about me. who hadn't left me behind. who picked me up and carried me onward when i didn't... have interest in doing it myself. for any kind of future. the man who let every sharpened word... every... cruel remark... roll right off his shoulders....

i threw the covers off me. grabbing my useless legs and swinging them off the side of the bed. forcing myself up. making a grab for my wheelchair... because there was no way i was going to let that cut sink any deeper than it already had. there was no way i was going to... let my own poison hollow him out. i needed to follow him. talk to him. apologize until it made some difference... but i hadn't even managed to get into my wheelchair yet before David came back. i was barely seeing him. babbling about how i hadn't meant it that way. begging him to forgive me. that i was sorry...


i'm so sorry


and yet he seemed more worried about my... panic...than any kind of hurt i'd made. speaking soft. trying to soothe my rushing mind of contradicting thoughts. trying to assure me that he wasn't going to leave me. even as part of me wanted him to, so i wouldn't hurt him anymore. that i wasn't going to be alone. even as part of me screamed for it, so i wouldn't have a reason to stay anymore. that everything was okay. even as part of me sobbed that it never would be...

he handed me a towel

he told me that... i was right. 

that, so far, i hadn't had a choice in much. 

that he had pushed me into recovering this far. 

but... he wasn't going to do that anymore. 

he wasn't going to force me to heal if it wasn't what i really wanted. he wasn't... going to keep me here... just to satisfy his own need for company. he told me that.... i was well enough to make the choice now. 

that i could throw in the towel. 

he said i could make it all end. 

that he... would kill me himself if that was what i wanted. 

that he would... make it quick. 

that i wouldn't feel anything. 

that it would all... 

just stop...

he said i could hang onto it.
keep my wall up.
keep hiding.
keep running.
keep... dwelling.
keep trying to sort things out on my own.
keep living... and dealing with everything that came with it...

or... i could hand it back to him. 

that i... could let him help me. 

admitting... that i needed his help. 

to give up some degree of control... 

and allow him to make the choices that i was... 

that i am... in no condition to.

i had my escape


i had it there in my hands


i had the choice... the chance... to finish what the truck had started



i didn't have to be afraid anymore



i didn't have to be... in pain anymore


i could forfeit


i could admit defeat


and just... end



my story... could finally have an end



and in that silence that stretched... i'd' never... seen David look so miserable. there was no wall up. no mask to cover his weakness. he knew... what i wanted. that i... wanted to toss the towel to the floor. i'd said it so often... all he could do was harden himself to the reality of it. he was trying to accept it. trying to accept... that he'd been wrong about me...


and Redlight had been right


but i... didn't want.... to prove David wrong. i didn't... want to leave him alone. to make all his efforts a waste of time. waste of energy. i didn't... want to abandon him in fear of the Devil... when he promised me so often that he'd never abandon me for anything. when he put so much into me. correcting me. or trying to. time and time again. every time i called myself worthless. useless. every time i... cheapened my value. when i claimed to not have a purpose here anymore...



he believed i was worth something



i still have no idea what that could be


but i... decided it was about time that i trusted him


to try to... prove him right




i slowly held the towel out for him.




it felt so foreign for me. like i was pushing against my own will. my own... instincts. my entire body trembling. shivering. i felt... so faint... so thin... as he tentatively took it from me. as i felt the material... slip through my fingers. as i felt the chance i had been waiting for die without me...


god it hurt


but it was the choice that i made

a promise to try


to try to take... myself back

try to take... my mind... back


David's been helping me anyway he can. that night was the first night... that i gave up trying to sleep alone. we share a bed and he wakes me if... when i start... reliving something. other times he just... talks to me. talks for hours. talking about nothing and everything about his life and thoughts and experiences and people he knew and noticed and just... anything. anything to fill the silence on days which is far from silent in my head. when i just... want someone to drown out the voices. if only for a little while. when i just... need an anchor. a reminder of which reality i'm trying to cling to.

sometimes... 

sometimes i'm the one telling the stories. small stories of little consequence. little effort. David always listens with such... keen attention. even when there's barely any point to the story being told. even if the only point at all is that i... actually remember it... and i think it's real. that it might really be one of mine. my real memory...

finding even a scrap of Truth amongst the disaster zone inside my skull... is nothing short of a miracle.


i see have a long way to go.....




but i'm trying




i even... started a journal a little while ago







just a little.... writing exorcise 
















to try to help me... deal with some things...




























i just get so tired

we're moving.

must have been on the road for six hours so far. going to be another two at least before we're even going to change roads. all that matters right now is getting away. we'll sort out the rest when we get there. personally, i really... am not liking this. it's the first time we've moved since i woke up and it's all going to be new again and i can't...

i don't know... i don't like it when things change anymore. i like knowing. i like routine. the familiarities.

but that's all burning behind us now

 i don't know... if they found us because i was stupid enough to post on here and draw attention or if it was just coincidence or if... if it was anything to do with... with her... but i guess it doesn't matter. not really. we're all alive. a little burnt and bleeding and my head hasn't stopped throbbing but... we're alive.

one of them had said something about a proxy called Fracture. i don't remember that name, but my memory is... clouded over in a lot of areas... and far too detailed in others...

David said he knew the name though.


apparently David's head is worth $100,000.

i guess Fracture is a fan of his


mine is worth $25,000.

for a damn cripple


ridiculous.


i guess they weren't expecting a fight from me. can't say i was either.

after three attempts at my own life, i told David before that i'd... stay for a little while... but if the Game found us, i wouldn't fight back. that i'd just... let someone have bragging rights. if there is even anything left to brag about anymore. i didn't want to fight. i didn't want to run. i just... couldn't take it anymore...


now i've done both


but i really... didn't have a choice. David had gone out for groceries. leaving Em alone with me. trusting Em alone with me, and when i... saw that shadow pass by the window... when the hairs came up on the back of my neck... i Knew. i Knew and i just... at first, i was somewhat relieved to be in what i thought might be my last moments... but then i remembered Em...

i couldn't let them have her

my life may barely be worth a single cent at this point but... she's only a little girl. and i couldn't betray David by not... "stepping up" to protect her the best i could. so i barricaded us in a room.... and as it turned out... a cripple can still handle a shotgun just fine.


then they set the house on fire


the hows and whats of it don't matter. if David hadn't come back when he had, we wouldn't have made it out. or, at least, i wouldn't of. theoretically, Em should have been okay beneath the water in the bathtub... least for a little while. i don't really... remember much about David showing up. i remember... aiming down the barrel out a window... i remember having a harder and harder time to breathe and the HEAT that just kept rising every time i thought it was impossible for it to burn anymore than it already was and i remember... i remember the pounding in my head swaying

everything shaking everything until i could see the door

 rattle on its hinges

 with every POUND that echoed and split and GNAWED at my skull and i.... 

and i heard him on the other side. 

a voice. a voice that wasn't. 

that couldn't BE because it had already been DONE so long ago...

 so very long ago... yelling at me. pleading with me. to just unblock the door. 

begging me... not to leave him there to burn...

not to leave

Owen

there to burn...

 
he sounded so desperate so TERIRFIED voice just

 VIBRATING 

out from beneath the ROAR that engulfed the house that just got hotter and hotter until i wasn't sure what burned more my body or my mmind

na d god it stung and i still couldn't

breathe

David told me... that i was speaking fluent gibberish by the time he got to me                                       carrying a soaking wet Em wrapped in his coat in his arms












she's laying down in the backseat now




fast asleep


David's been running on coffee. i wish i could take a turn at driving to give him a chance to rest, but this wouldn't be the first time being paralyzed from the waist down has proven me useless. so i've claimed map duty. trying to stay one step ahead of where we are by the light of a small flashlight. David keeps glancing over to me. keeps telling me i should sleep. that he'd be okay for a while. that i need it. but i just... can't. not like this...

not like this...

why can't you people
 just
 leave us alone?









we're not part

of your Game anymore
















we just



want



to be left

alone

how much longer

 is this going to go on for

how much furtherr

 is it going to spread

is anyone even

TRYING to stop it

 can it even be fucking stopped/



It was..... inside her.  i FELT It inside of her. she wasn't one of us, she was a NORM. she didn't know a damn THING and i just... i felt It... i felt... the RED...  and i just... panicked. she had been trying to HELP ME. trying to help the stupid cripple in the goddamn wheelchair and her arm brushed across mine and i just... i panicked and nearly sent a display flying...


all i could see


all i could. hear


all i could... feel


was him


The Devil.


The Network


Those stirngs on mme agian wrapping around coiling around strangliing me SMOTHERING ME as those arms came around pulling me back against him back TO him tightening like snakes until ii thought my bones were going to splinterr and break and his hand clamped over my mouth and i couldn''tt breathe

please god ijust wantt to

 braethe

words no more than poison

when he asked if ii would smile for him

                                       just

            smile                                                 

and then it wasn't his arms... but David's. the same damn stubborn git that scrapped me off the road under the cold rain that night,

                                                                    that held my wrists so i wouldn't claw at my own face when i woke up a few days later. breaking and crying in torment that clawed down deep to my very core. cursing him for saving me. cursing him for not letting me die

 and would later be bandaging those same wrists when he walked in to find me trying to bite through my veins. a pathetic wreck of a human just making a pathetic attempt to end the scraps of life i had left. begging him to leave me. to let it happen. to just let it END. spitting on him when he silently refused. silently took anything i threw at him. no matter how cruel the words.

 he just kept holding onto me. 

holding on as i wept after he'd pulled me up from the bathroom floor. the bottle of bleach torn from my hands and mouth and thrown clear across the room. ynaking me up and pulling me into his arms even as i wept about it not being enough. it burned. my mouth, my throat, all inside... but it hadn't been enough. pain for nothing. pain tha tonly lead to more pain and no relief as i burned and threw up and David never once left me

snarling at him to just get it fucking over with.
throwing off the covers and telling him to go ahead. that i didn't care.
fuck me.
it was what he wanted, wasn't it? why he was bothering with me like this?
now that his other two "fucktoys" were dead, he needed another to take their place.
but he just... pulled the covers back up. speaking soft and slow. telling me i needed to rest.

trying to get me to calm down

 just like during my night terrors and hallucinations 

and everything that just snowballs on itself. when i can't stop the voices can't stop myself from screaming out and breaking 

crumbling 

crying 

as it all becomes REAL again. 

when i FEEL it all again and HE'S there instead of David and i beg for it to stop. to just be left alone. left to die. and i get so tired but i can't sleep. can't sleep without seeing HIM without feeling my hands close around Winston's throat again and it all becomes just too muhc. just too much to take. to burden and i don't want to live with the pain anymore

 just like at the store.
when i could feel the Red ON me again... and he was suddenly there. he'd come back. arms around me. forehead to mine talking soft so soft just trying to bring me back to.... calm me down. reminding me... i could breathe. to take my time. to talk.

to tell him what was wrongg

god it's ALL so wrong... why don't any of you SEE THAT??!?

she's going to go home to her family and friends and she's going to bring HIM with her everywhere she goes. it's in the RED. i saw it on her. didn't notice at first, but after i Knew, i saw it.

a tiny tattoo of a heart just behind her ear.

her mark

HIS mark

so subtle

even the bloodspot in my eye was more obvious than that

but both are enough. both are all he needed to tie us up. force us down the line. jerk our legs and swing our arms while our minds end up LOST behind the SMOKE AND ASH....



how is this

 ever going to be alright?

it just keeps spreading



it's only ever going to get worse




everything







only ever gets worse                                                                                

Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated...

And you all have been oh so busy in my “absence”, haven’t you? Seeing you all scurry, having been struck down by the rather chaotic past few months have certainly proved most amusing for those who appreciate such fine art. However, since you all seem so preoccupied with celebrating in the rubble that was your last semblance of order, I suppose that means there’s no one else left to recount how this smouldering carcass of a reality came to be, and your twisted need to be satiated by information falls on my shoulders.


I wonder, do you all secretly wish for misfortunes on each other for your own twisted entertainment? 


Did I want to break Nightscream? No. 


And you all say I'm the cruel one. 


It forced me to. 


Of course, those who haven’t been utterly braindead throughout this whole façade of resistance will quickly notice the irony of this situation. Why would I break my months-long silence in order to inform you of the suffering of just another Proxy? Surely, this is nothing extraordinary and nothing worth my commenting on it, correct? Of course, the fact that you’re reading this implies the opposite. 



I was correcting a mistake. 



I feel no need to explain my motivations to you. 

"Heh~ Oh, you poor, poor thing. You really can't stand it, can you? Even from behind such a BOLD title as 'Redlight'... even from behind all the scorn and disgust... you want to be human so badly, don't you? You always have. Spencer, at least, could attempt to emulate us. But you? You can't even do that, now can you? You are Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing but a cosmic JOKE, fit only to collapse into itself! You claim to be better than us mere humans. Us... LOWLY cockroaches... but you? You're a Parasite, Redlight. A mere Disease of the Mind. And do you know what the best part is...? Despite your best efforts... despite all the bodies you make dance on your Little Red Strings... you will Fail. You will never Rule... for it is your emotions that Rule you!" 

So instead, I’ll give you what you came for, which is just another train wreck.


A question that has struck me during my prolonged absence is what makes a man. Is it their experiences? The sum of their past memories? Their sentimentalities? Their ability to choose their actions? Or is it something... more? Such a thing is impossible to study from within the Network, where all these things are crushed into one uniform will as a sum of parts rather than promoting individuality. The reasons for this are obvious of course; it would be a waste of both my and your time if I chose to explain them, and so when an opportunity presented itself I quickly took advantage of such a thing.


The Proxy you all know as Nightscream is broken beyond all recognition. This shouldn’t be news to its rather… devoted audience. Hasn’t it been obvious? The flashes of the colour Red out of nowhere, the delusions, the sudden drive to save its dead son… then again, the only one of you cockroaches with enough intellect to figure out the last one lies as a corpse in the café he loved so dearly, the life choked out of him by a Proxy he once dared to call his “friend”. Truly, a poetic end for a rat that wouldn’t stop sticking its disgusting nose where it did not belong. One may even go so far as to call the whole situation tragic.


But that part comes later.


From the moment I saved it from certain death, Nightscream’s will was mine; and though I often loathe the foregone conclusion, the ending to Sam Freeman’s story is an ending that any idiot could predict. So when someone did have the foresight to see the intended result of my meddling, I was far from pleased. The thing that caught me was a Highest only spoken of in hushed whispers and baited breath; The Author. He’s been a thorn in my side for various reasons, but it has become clear to me that he did not appreciate such a vocal Proxy being my unwilling mouthpiece. When Nightscream believed it was being tortured in order to punish it for being a dissident, the reality was the opposite.


Author was not trying to ruin Sam.


Instead, he was trying to save it.


You see, all of the Highest wanted to find a way to break Proxies from the Network, but Author has always been a bit more predispositioned towards an oh-so-noble cause; regardless, his research proved inconclusive. I have no reason to lie about such a thing; not when there’s evidence that when Nightscream escaped that little science project, my influence was just as strong as it was before. However, my Jester reaching out for help while in that idiot mistake of a Crafter’s protective custody couldn’t be easily forgotten. Nightscream, despite its best efforts, had not held its cards close enough to his chest, and such a fact was easily exploited.


You see, Sam never wanted for its son to be dead, never wanted Leo to be another statistic of a normal, everyday accident. After all it had given up, a cruel twist of fate taking away the one thing it had left to protect was just too much. Whether it was delusional or not before I started to show it the world it wanted, I cannot say.


But if I was a gambling man, I’d bet on the Nightscream everyone knew being a farce.


The rest is simple. Sam’s “friend” -and I use that term loosely- , the proxy you all knew as Sherlock, or “Joseph”, or Winston for that matter, became concerned about its mental state, as he was aware that little Leo was long dead. An offhanded comment from me here and there was all it took, and once Sherlock picked up that trail and called Nightscream to the Cafe in an attempt, I assume, to talk some sense into it, the damage was already done. I’m sure that it is rather easy to gather that Sam’s recount of that night is slightly... unreliable, but I will tell you this.



It’s easy to solve matters of the mind when you just murder the detail that doesn’t add up.

“… What did you say, you pathetic little cockroach?…?”

That wasn’t me, if you must know. Nightscream’s choice to strangle Sherlock to death when confronted with proof of Leo’s demise was one of the few allowances that I provided. What you all don’t seem to understand is that I dislike conflict. In fact, I’d like to consider myself a reasonable man. But when further failures cannot be tolerated, well… then isn’t the Network the only solution?


As an aside, I don’t understand why Sam insisted on resisting my hold. I'd pity you all, if I didn't find you so disgusting. You’re all so easy to fool. So easy to give purpose. It’s no challenge to drive corpses forward down the line, with all of them dragging their feet towards something that was never real in the first place. You all live within fantasy, because you have no choice. How would you deal with such tragedy befalling you otherwise? 


“I’m sure you heard me loud and clear. Darling.” 


Sam had become a liability.


My fist connected with Nightscream’s left eye with more force than needed. The feeling of its flesh break under my knuckles felt…


And such things must be erased. 


it felt.. 


I still find it incredibly ironic that you all seem to forget that I’m always watching you. Think about it; to me, what’s another amber-eyed puppet in a pile of corpses? What are “powers”, really, aside from rumour and hearsay?

so fucking 

A Gauntlet can easily be melted onto a hand with enough lighter fluid and a match.

good

The monster that Nightscream referred to as “The Amber-eyed Snake” was nothing but an elaborate farce created by me; so imagine my surprise when some of you were so kind as to fall for it. I will say this; you are all too quick to believe in new monsters when you see them. Almost makes me wonder if you all enjoy being afraid…


Of course, when Sam started to resist the illusions I made it see, and started to deconstruct the wild-goose chase I was sending it on, utilizing the last scraps of its sanity, that just would not do. And while I do acknowledge the mind is a powerful thing, being trapped in one is not a fate I would wish on anyone. Of course, that is the punishment that I subjected Sam eventually, which I can assure you has driven it to desperate measures.


Sam only laughed at my outburst


And so, it comes to this.


“I guess you’re more human than you think, Redlight~!”


I have released Nightscream from my hold, for it to enjoy the rest of its short, pathetic life while it lasts. To be fully in control and aware of the atrocities it committed, with and without my influence, and for it to be also aware of the fact that it no longer has a reason for living. It is currently with Mr. Banks, who also proved to be another incredible disappointment. I suppose birds of a feather flock together, as he was kind enough to peel the remains of my Jester off the road after it had celebrated its newfound freedom... by throwing itself in front of a truck. 

I didn’t think 

I personally find that slightly poetic, don’t you? 

I just acted 

I will always be watching. Waiting. I don’t like letting a good body go to waste. But Sam Freeman’s story is ending, and I don’t intend to be there when it concludes with a dull, pathetic whimper. 

Crushing Sam’s mind 

So take this as a warning. 

Until its stupid smirk disappeared 

Your history isn't a straight line. It never has been. It doesn't go anywhere, and it never will. Neither will Humanity. Going around and around in a circle for all of time. Live and die and be forgotten. 


And then I let it break free 


Your Sage said it best. The last refuge of dangerous men... is denial. 


As its eye filled with red 


Humanity has so much faith in their meaning, their free will, and each other, when all it brings them is misfortune and suffering. Things that they’d do anything to forget. To not be held accountable. 


So it would never forget who it belongs to 


And wouldn’t you know it, I just so happen to grant the wishes of the damned. 


And then I did it again 


So do not stand in my way, and when I come for you, come quietly.

And again.

Because if you don’t… well, look at the former author of this memoir.

And again.

Sam Freeman will die soon.

And again.

And when it does…


And again


It.


And again


Will. 


And again 


Hurt.


Look who’s laughing now?


Regards,

Redlight
 

you have llisten to me

it's all been a lie. a joke. a goddamn PERFORMANCE. i can't stay here long. can't stop moving. have to... i'm out. for now, i'm out. i mmang ed to... putll from his strings. threads. .
                                                                  

                                                                                                                               from the RED

but it won't

stay that way if i don't keep moving. i have to ggetttttttt

no



 no time for that
      

                                                                                                                      not that

listen to me. its been a mask. this whole time, it was a DAMN MASK and i didn't SEE he didn't LET me see kept a hand over my eyes and his other on my throat i just...

 there was never a "Valtiel"

                

 it's all been screwed up. all shambled around and rewritten to include him. to give me a history with him thatt never happened. that never existed because HE never existed!! i know...

                                                                                                           i know the name. from tjhe records in the Organization there is some biarrre mountain man something on the other proxy-but-maybe-not named Valtiel who does show up every so often but he could be one or several but it DOESN'T MATTER because it's the scarf. The RED scarf and the AMBER EYES that don't match that don't EXIST that was purely HIM purely

Redlight

        he's alive. more than alive, he's building. destroying. tearing through everything and he's not even wearing his FACE. he's worn it before. he's visited several of you. the Organization is decimated and his N - E - T - W - O - R - K never stops GROWING. Spreading. FEEDING on itself like a virus. Father hasn't interfered, Father


                                              i'm not
                                                             a proxy anymore

he

 

T

O

 R

E

  it

        out  of  me

 to make me

                 

H

I

S

 to put me on strings and just...

Winston.




i'm so sorry






I'm so sorry for what I did to you

for not

LISTENING to you for not

for not...

pleease

forrgivemee

i couldnt llose him a secondd t ime

icouldnt

 and th en i couldt stand

losing 

youu

                                                                        i couldnt L OSE you
not like

                                                                                                                        that

god not liek thatt...

you were always my voice of reason

                                                                            

 my

thoughhtss

my screa ms upon 

hhis strinngsss

became your v voice

becaame

you

beca me






my

last


rope  hope



against him




against



the RED




the RED in everything that PULSES FROM EVERYTHING that IS everything that follows me haunts me HUNTS me SMOTHERS ME until i can't breathe can't run can't do anything butt be swallowed by it again by HIM again and his grip tightens on my throat my mmind my ssoouul and it wontstopburning



godhelpme



it isn't ever ggoing too stop








HE ISN'T EVER G OING TO

S     -     T     -     O     -     P