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[The past will always come to haunt you. They will always come, and they will always leave the charred bodies of your victims dancing, (dancing) in the burned down ruins of your home.]
We were always on the constant run from anything emotional. Like we believed that being numb was our ticket, the only way to roll in this crazy game. We used to thrive on that, always feeling so damn at ease in this state. Yeah, we were.
Were.
ㅤㅤ𝘞𝘦𝘳𝘦.
Man...
Hate to say it, but I miss it. Yeah, for sure. Regret's got a tight grip on me, I'll admit it. I'm like a fucking dog, chasing my goddamn tail and barking at nothing. There's a yearning deep inside of me, a hunger for that euphoric rush of playing GOD's hand and punching the ever living shit outta every sorry soul that crosses our path. [𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!] I know you love it, I know you love it too. I know you love planting your fucking fist until their nose break and their capillaries burst. You remember that time when you squeeze their eyes and it pops like grape? Some burst, like the motherfucking firework at the Fourth of July. [𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!] I can't tell who that person anymore, their faces are all fucked up. But fuck. Fuck me in the goddamn ass with a metal rod or sumthin'. I know you can feel it too. It's raw, it's like a motherfucking zap, some electric thrill that rushes when we squeeze the fucking trigger and howl in mockery when we watch them cry. [𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!] It's FUN. It's fun when we hear their gurgled scream as we push their heads into the water. (There's bubbles, remember? You love bubbles, you fucking sap!) It's fun when we give them choices: either kick the bucket on your own, or blow your motherfucking brain. It's FUN! Yeah, I know! It's also fucking disgusting when they choose the goddamn rope. I hate to see how their faces turn so red and pale and the shits start flowing out, but man...
[Muscle spasming, tears streaming down his cheeks—under the sharp fluorescent light, there’s a cold body wiggling on top of the concrete floor.]
Man, I miss it...
[He gets on top of him, gray eyes staring right into the shrinking pupils devoid of any mirth.]
Hate to say it, but I want it. I ache for emotions, I yearn to let it all out, to let the tears flow like a motherfucking RIVER!
[𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! One hit, right in the fucking face.
The pale skin now turned red by his clenched hand.
“Confess.”
“I… I...”
𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! Two hits, right in the fucking face.
The goddamn blood oozes from the nose that’s now crooked left.
“Confess.”
“P-ple—”
𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! Three hits, right in the fucking face. There are cuts on the corner of his mouth and red coming from his chapped lips.
“Confess.”
𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! Four hits, right in the fucking face. And now the pace gets faster and faster and the goddamn fist keeps rising and falling and 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! from the same fucking mouth comes the same word all over and over again.]
It's hard to admit, but I crave it. I want those tears to stream down my face when I press a final kiss upon the dead bodies of my children. They're my children too, as much as you hate to admit it!
[“Confess.” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! Another fucking punch right in the fucking face. “Confess.” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! The knuckles meet the same goddamn face again all over and over again. “Confess.” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! The nostrils flared, the body under him trashes and wiggles and SCREAMS, like a fucking maggot on top of a rotten flesh.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
“Confess thy fucking name, and turn from away from thy goddamn sin, you cock-sucking son of a bitch.” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! “Confess unto Him ‘cause that thine own right hand is the only fucking thing that can save thine ass.” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! “Confess your FUCKING faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be SAVED because FUCK.” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! “YOU.” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!]
Yeah, I want that. And when I scatter their remains into the unforgiving sea, I want the waves to echo my fucking sorrow (SORRY). Call me emotional, but that's who I AM, a man who feels DEEPLY!
[ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤ“Lie a fucking HAND
ㅤㅤon them again, I dare you.”
𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤ“Glance a single eye
ㅤㅤon them again, I DARE YOU.”
𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤ“Come near them again,
ㅤㅤI. DARE. YOU.”ㅤㅤㅤ ]
I refuse to be numb, to wear that emotionless mask. I never, I don't ever wanna be like YOU.
[𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! “And I fucking promise you, 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘴, 𝘦𝘵 𝘍𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘪, 𝘦𝘵 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘴 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪,” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! “in the name of your motherfucking mom and your motherfucking dog and all the people you kill with your own goddamn hands,” 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋! “I. Promise. You.”
ㅤㅤ𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ]
I refuse to be numb, I want to feel everything here.
[ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!ㅤㅤㅤㅤ]
But I know. I've got this gnawing awareness. And deep down, I know that I'm living in a goddamn fantasy. I'm you, and you're me, like two sides of the same tarnished coin. I'm you, and you're me, and I ain't yearning to be you, strutting around all smooth, pretending that you're unfazed and that everything is all OK. Nope, ion want that. But I can't ignore it; it's practically in my DNA, woven deep, etched like some poor-job tattoo, straight and right on into my very essence, my blood, my chest and heart and lungs and bones.
[ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!ㅤㅤㅤㅤ]
Yeah, fuck yeah. I'm fully aware that I'm teetering on the edge of insanity. Fuck you, I'm a deluded bastard, lost without a moral compass, and I've got this grandiose illusion clouding my judgment like a thick fog. I get it, I get it. The world ain't just black and white, and it sure as hell ain't a shade of gray either. It's more like a chaotic mix of red, blue, and green, (I know, shut up) just like the bruises on our throat. It's all messed up, (I know, I KNOW) just like the tangled mess inside our head. Yeah, I get it, you can stop telling me to shut the hell up. I asked for this burden, I begged for this disguise. (You live a double life, anyway. That's fucking dumb. How are you gonna be a vigilante while juggling three jobs?)
[ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙋!ㅤㅤㅤㅤ]
I know, I know. There's no way I'll shed this second skin unless I tear it off my godforsaken face.
[THE REVELATOR leans his face closer. Eyes to eyes, eyes to eyes. Underneath his mask, THE REVELATOR smirks.
ㅤㅤㅤ“That not even GOD
ㅤㅤㅤcan save you from ME.”]
The past, oh, the 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 past, eh? I know. I know it will always come to haunt us. They will always come, and they will always leave the charred bodies of (y)our victims dancing, (dancing) in the burned down ruins of (y)our goddamn 𝑯𝑶𝑴𝑬!
---
"Did you kill your children, Mister John?"
"I do."
"And how do you feel?"
Haha.
ㅤㅤ𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘯.
"Nothing."