Chapter Text
Your name is
Your name is
Your name is
Well, it isn't particulary important. You know which name you're using, and the ones you've used in the past, just in case you accidentally re-use one.
Your real name is
Your real name is
Your real name is
You do remember, but you try not to think about it too much, who knows if there are mind readers around? Certainly not you, so its probably best to be cautious.
That name is
That name is
That name is
It's quite the vital piece of evidence, as far as you're aware. You don't know precicely how, but from your personal investigations you know that "if only" they had the killer's name, they "probably would have found the fucking cunt already".
Yes, probably in your best interests not to think about it.
You look down upon the fresh cadaver, the many layers of silvery grey becoming slowly enveloped in a pitch black ink which further spills onto the ground its former host lays on.
It is fundamentally incorrect to describe the void as "black" or "dark", the void is the absense of everything and anything, and therefore cannot be percieved in any manner, the mortal mind cannot imagine the idea of nothing. And while darkness is an absence of light, it is still a seperate percievable experience.
But... it's a decent enough start.
You accept its call, and begin to put your quill to paper.
"PLEASE READ THIS LEFT-TO-RIGHT, EYES-TO-ARMS
Good morning first-witness! Or at least, I'm assuming it'll be the morning considering where this is. Actually usually initial witnesses are too shocked by the corpse to bother reading my messages, actually, so it'll probably be a detective or a guard reading this first. Hey Markus! Sorry for the extra work, you know how it is.
A little moth told me you lot are trying to find my name, and that one of you called me a cunt, I'd like to say that you will NOT be a{"
"Judge! Do the thi-"
You don't know how long you were out, but you wake up to the noises of a bustling city and... horse hooves and... you have the WORST headache, and there's a lot of conversation outside about-
Outside?
You never open your eyes when you first get up, it usually takes you a good 20 minutes to remember you have them, so you wake up and try to get up and very quickly realise you can't move.
Rope, carraige, door, lock, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
They're talking about you. You can barely hear any of it, it's nothing but white noise to you, but you can tell that-
huh
white noise.
funny.
diediediediediediediediedie
diediediediediediediediedie
diediediediediediediediedie
diediediediediediediediedie
diediediediediediediediedie
You are going to die today, and no one will miss you. No one will feel bad, no one will protest, no one will say or think "But did he really deserve that?" because you do, and you know you do. One small problem though.
You don't want to die
You don't want to die
You don't want to die
You don't want to die
You don't want to die You don't want to die You don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to dieI don't want to dieI don't want to dieI don't want to dieI don't want to dieI don't want to dieI DON'T WANT TO DIE
Claw, Scratch, Tear, Bite, Claw, Scratch, Tear, Bite, Claw Scratch Tear Bite Claw Scratch Tear Bite
helpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpme
you get the ropes off.
Every part of your fight-or-flight activates at once, you tear at the stone floor, with the hope of finding some sort of damage which you could use to break apart the whole thing and escape.
Nothing.
And so you claw at the walls, hoping to singlehandedly rip them to shreds.
Nothing.
helpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpmeHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPME
a rat in a box
lacerations soon reveal
yet he has no claws
You swear your fingertips weren't this dirty a moment ago.