Chapter Text
George couldn’t do this anymore.
His days blended together, his nights were constantly filled with painful memories and thoughts he couldn’t turn off.
Nothing seemed right to him anymore, he walked through his days on auto-pilot and no matter what he tried to do to fix it, it always came back to the feelings of deep despair and uselessness.
Whilst he was at work, it seemed that he never managed to do anything right. His manager always had something against him and seemed to make it her personal mission to make his workdays a living hell.
“George, you did this chart wrong again.” She grumbled out, slapping the mound of paper on his desk with a frown. He looked up at her, exhaustion clear in his eyes.
Looking back down at the papers, his eyes scanned over the chart again and he frowns in slight confusion “I don’t know what you mean…Where did I go wrong?” he asks in a downtrodden tone.
She frowns at him and huffs “What do you MEAN where did you go wrong? It’s obvious! Are you blind or something? This is the third time you’ve done these charts. For god sakes, just hand the task off to Charles. You obviously can’t do it right.” She growls out, her tone getting more sharp the more she speaks.
George lets out a quiet sigh and nods “Yeah…Okay, I’ll do that…” He says in a quiet tone and preps the task to change hands. He makes his way to Charles’ desk with the papers in hand and notes on the changes he will need to make.
He knows that Charles thinks he’s better than everyone in the office, he’s the boss's pet and can ‘do no wrong’. George places the papers down on the man’s desk and smiles at him slightly “Charles, Sarah wants you to re-do my charts. Apparently I did them wrong again and I have no idea where I’m going wrong…” He says calmly and Charles just sneers up at him, shaking his head and grumbling out a small response.
Continuing his day, he just gets more and more exhausted, his soul feeling empty as he clocks out. The walk home is just as exhausting, the streets are busy, he missed his bus meaning he has to walk home and of course it starts raining when he doesn’t have a coat.
His suit is completely soaked by the time he gets back and just wants to give up, opening the front door, he’s met with Hope, she looks annoyed and is dressed up as if she is going to go out.
“George, where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be home an hour ago. We had that dinner we were supposed to go to.” She says in an angry growl, turning to go back into the house and sit on the sofa.
He doesn’t know what to say in response, peeling off his wet jacket and hanging it on the wall “I’m sorry Hope…I missed the bus so I had to walk back. Give me a little bit and I can get changed then we can go, yeah?” he says in a happy tone that in no way matches the feeling in his chest.
She doesn’t seem to respond, seeming engrossed in her phone as he leaves to their bedroom, peeling the wet clothes off and looking for something to change into.
It only takes him 10 minutes to change and sort his hair, when he walks into the lounge, he sees Hope already preparing to leave “Don’t worry about the dinner George.” She says angrily and he doesn’t understand, confusion swimming through his head.
“What?” is all he manages before she responds.
She looks at him, arms crossed and a frown on her face “We’ve already missed our table. I messaged the girls so we’re going for a girls night. You can be lazy on your own.” She huffs out, her tone angry and exhausted.
George takes a few beats to understand what she means and just sits on the sofa, staring off at a spot on the wall, his soul feels like it’s breaking, his head swimming with darkness. It’s not his fault.
It’s not his fault, why is she angry at him?
Why is everyone so angry at him?
He’s trying his best.
By the time he manages to come up with a response, she has already left, leaving him in the flat in silence, alone.
He doesn’t know how long he stays just sat in the same place, staring at the door she left through but he’s brought back to the present time by a text from Hope, she’s obviously drunk as some of the words are spelled wrong.
“Don bother waiting fr me. I sayign with Ann”
He understands it as her staying with Ann, one of Hope’s friends who he knows despises him. She always calls him lazy and fake. He remembers her saying to his face at one point that he is such a bad boyfriend, she doesn’t even know how he bagged Hope.
At this point, he knows that he really has nothing left. No one is going to care that he’s gone. His family don’t even try to get into contact with him, his girlfriend doesn’t like him and all his work does is try to get him to quit.
“I should…” is all George says as he goes to the kitchen, grabbing the vodka before making his way to the bathroom, making sure to lock the door, he starts running himself a bath.
It’s too hot, he knows it is but it’s as if all feeling has been taken from him as he doesn’t even bother to take off his clothes, toeing his shoes off and climbing into the scalding hot bath.
The water should burn. It should but he can’t feel it as he just pulls the lid off of the vodka, taking large gulps of the burning liquid.
Much like the water, he can’t feel the burn. It slides down. His stomach churns as he just keeps downing the contents of the bottle.
The hot water starts to make him dizzy, the vodka not helping in the slightest.
He can feel the tears dripping down his cheeks but can’t lift a hand to wipe them away, he slips himself down into the tub, his head touching the bottom of the bath, as he opens his eyes, looking up through the water at the bland cream ceiling.
His lungs burn and his chest starts to spasm from the lack of air and he just lets it go, trying to take in a deep breath only to inhale the burning water.
George’s eyes stay open as he clings to the sides of the bath, the bottle dropping into the water, willing himself to stay under as his muscles twitch and try to force him back up.
The sides of his vision start turning black and as he keeps his eyes to the ceiling, he sees a black, nearly foggy figure lean over the tub, watching him with spider-like eyes.
“I can save you” The voice growls, it feels like it is speaking straight into his mind and he feels his fingers start to go numb, his grip on the tub loosening.
“I can bring you happiness and fulfilment. Just give yourself to me.” The figure's voice rattles through his skull and George’s mind runs a million miles an hour as it fights to stay conscious.
‘ Okay’ is all he can think before he slips into the unconscious.
When he wakes up, he doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t remember how he got there and most importantly, he can’t remember his name.
His brain feels like a blank slate, he looks around the room he is in and from the looks of it, it’s an old Chapel, the walls black with smoke damage but the floors a perfect mahogany brown, He is laying in the Chancel, looking out over the rows of crystal black pews.
He turns his head to the Altar, seeing a golden pedestal with a white stone mask laying on red silk.
The mask looks familiar and he feels a warmth in his chest just looking at it, something compelling him to put it on.
As his hands touch the mask he notes that the tips of his fingers are a dark, near pure black but they feel warm. He picks up the mask, looking over it’s face with the six eyes and red detailing.
Slipping the mask on, he feels whole, complete and happy.