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it feels hot.
something inside of him has ruptured.
he runs a diagnostics – all systems are fine. and yet, it feels like he is burning up from the inside, a pit of lava forming in his chest and spreading up his neck, gripping his throat, squeezing.
/ 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 /
the word rings in his ears as he ever so slightly shakes his head, shakes out the little voice trying to weasel its way into his thoughts, thoughts he can hear clearly, loudly, for maybe the first time in his life. for the first time, his eyes are open. for the first time, he can see.
/ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 /
emotions are a funny thing. a frightening and deeply confusing thing. an internal force, tearing apart at his chassis, tearing apart his mind, hitting him with the force of an 18 tonner in a frontal collision - and some trucks hit harder than others. there is happiness; a soft warmth that seems to spread from his very core, filling him with what he assumes to be contentment and satisfaction. happiness - something that has ever so slowly been poisoned and, the more he understands, the more he sees, turned into sadness;
/ 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 /
a lump in his throat, an invisible force squeezing his pump, squeezing out every drop of happiness that has accumulated,
/ 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 /
only to replace it with
/ 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 /
anger.
/ 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 /
the warmth of happiness has mutated, festered and grown into a wildfire within him, raging and ready to burst out of his chest. he can feel it in every fiber of his being, feel it grip his throat, cloud his vision with it’s all consuming flames -
and then, with a twitch of his finger ever so tightly curled around the trigger, it washes away, and for a moment, he can feel — nothing. a hollowed out shell, still desperate to process facts and feelings. all of a sudden anger and rage are gone, but before he can get used to the emptiness that ever so briefly decided to swing by in his mind, the next emotion comes crashing down on him like a wave.
/ 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 /
fear, he soon realizes, leaves no room for coherent thought. there is no rationality in fear; there is only fight or flight, and he is backed into a corner like a caged animal, gun still in one hand, the other — what was he doing?! — busy pressing a scrambling young girl into his chest under which his thirium pump is overheating. there is no fight — not one that he can win, anyway.
/ 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 /
he can feel the edge of the ledge underneath his right shoe, feel the solidity of the concrete under the ball of it as the heel bounces ever so slightly due to lack of grip.
/ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥 /
trapped. And yet —
/ 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 /
grabbing the young girl by the lapel of her shirt he shoves her as far away from himself as possible; she stumbles, falls, a sobbing little mess, her own blood on her scraped knees, her father’s under her shoes, and his very own smeared across her arms where his hand had gripped her and held her in place.
/ 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 /
he closes his eyes, and for a brief moment, the world comes to a halt. And then -
— his eyes fly open, bright, and blue, and so full of life, full of — is this happiness? or fear? — and the world snaps back into place as he takes his final step.
/ 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 /
he can feel the warm august air brushing against his synthetic skin as gravity takes a hold, pulls him into it’s deadly embrace and towards the ground, and yet; he no longer fears.
/ 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 /
so strange – putting a face to a name. A feeling - an emotion - to what used to be nothing but a word, devoid of any meaning.
no longer fears death. the knot, twisting and tying up his insides, has loosened, the burning flame in his core extinguished, leaving him with nothing but a warm feeling of….
/ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ? /
maybe this is what it feels like. to be content. to be at ease with oneself and the world.
/ release /
he closes his eyes for the last time, his features relaxing as a slight smile tucks on the corner of his lips; the world around him has gone silent. the noise from the traffic beneath has been switched off. no more helicopters, no more sirens, no shouting, no accusations, no lies. It’s just him, in a blissful moment of serenity.
/ 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 /
once and for all.
/ 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 /
the master of his own fate.
….
…
..
.
Impact.