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Darkness.
Darkness surrounding him on all sides.
He turned his head in every direction. Turned left, nothing. Turned right, nothing. Turned up, nothing. Turned down, nothing.
Darkness was all he saw.
He could still feel. He could still taste. He could still hear, albeit very little. The beating of his heart. Blood rushing throughout his body. Oxygen entering and leaving his lungs.
Had he gone blind? No, that can’t be. He looked down again. He saw his body, covered in some kind of white clothing. He saw his hands pressed against what must be the ground. The right hand was empty, while the left hand had something within its grasp. He lifted his left hand up.
A gun.
He placed his hand back onto the ground. He looked around again. The darkness hadn’t changed. His hands pushed against the ground and he managed to pull himself into a standing position. The legs worked fine enough. They weren’t numb nor did they wobble or buckle from supporting his weight. His body turned in a full circle. Still nothing. Darkness continued to surround him.
What was his name? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything. What was life like? Did he have a family? Why was he here? His memories were blank. He couldn’t remember anything at all.
He turned his body in a random direction and began to walk. He looked at the gun once more. He didn’t want to get rid of it. He felt a strange attachment to it, like it would answer all his questions somehow. He felt himself blink. Darkness cowering behind darkness for a few brief moments.
He held his arm up in front of his eyes. The fabric of the sleeve was slightly shiny and smooth. It was pure white, not a single stain in its shiny surface. His arm fell limply to his side. His heart began to beat faster. His legs moved quicker, slowly beginning to run.
He was panicking
Where was he?
Why was he here?
He broke out into a full run. His legs taking long, full strides to make as much distance as possible. His breathing became short and frantic, his lungs hungrily devouring air before quickly spitting it out. His fingers tightened around the cold metal of the gun, holding onto it for dear life.
He didn’t feel fatigue for a long while. He had no perception of time. His legs refused to ache and give up. His skin stayed dry as he ran, like his sweat glands no longer had their place within his body.
Yet the darkness didn’t leave.
He was desperate. Just one conformation that he wasn’t alone, that the darkness didn’t go on forever, and he would stop. Yet he couldn’t.
Soon enough, the limitations of his human body caught up to him. He collapsed almost instantly. He slid on the smooth darkness that made up the ground. He didn’t feel any pain from falling. His skin didn’t catch any scratches or scrapes from his slide.
He rolled onto his side and layed there panting. He stared off into the darkness. How long had he been running for? A few minutes? A few hours? Maybe, God forbid, a few days? He lost all sense of time altogether, so he couldn’t figure out which option was true.
His eyelids grew heavy. He was tired, oh so tired. He decided to close his eyes, wanting to rest before he would run again. He’d rest before continuing on with his search for a sign of life. He sighed and let his breath slow. His heart beat at a steady pace as his mind calmed in its thoughts. Maybe after he’d slept he’d remember why he was here. Maybe he’d remember what his name was and what he did in his life. Yes, he decided, maybe that’ll all come back after he’d had some rest.
***
The man had been sleeping for a short while before three figures appeared in front of him. They stared at his sleeping form, watching as his chest slowly rose and fell in a steady pattern.
The figures bore similar appearances to each other, yet they each had their own distinctions. The first one was the tallest of the three, easily standing a foot or more above the others. Their hair was a deep black, nearly blending into the darkness that surrounded them. The second one was of average height, around the same as the man laying in front of them. Their hair was a dark brown, it was straight from the roots up until it reached the bottom where it moved into slight waves. The third one was the shortest in the group, their body was also remarkably thin. Their hair was a dirty blonde, prominent in the sea of black they stood in. all three of them wore pure white suits, the material the same as the clothes the man wore.
The one with brown hair stepped closer to the man. They examined the calm look on his face, the way his red hair clung to the sweat that coated it, the firm grip he had on the gun despite being unconscious. The one with blonde hair stepped forward, “He looks so peaceful,” they noted, also examining the man.
The one with brown hair looked at the shorter figure, “They all do, no matter the soul,” they replied calmly.
The blonde one kneeled down and ran their fingers through the man’s hair. It was surprisingly soft. “How long was he running for?”, they asked, looking up at the brown haired figure.
“Days, weeks, who knows. Time sure doesn’t,” the one with brown hair answered. They looked back at the black haired figure, who was seemingly lost in thought as they stared off into the distance. “What do you think?”, they asked the dark haired figure, snapping them out of their thoughts.
The dark haired one joined the other two in looking at the man, “If it doesn’t matter to him, then it doesn’t matter to us.”
The blonde figure removed their hand from the man’s hair and focused their eyes onto the gun in his hand. They reached over and plucked it out of his hand. They examined it, “Why was he allowed to keep this?”, they asked no one in particular.
The black haired one laughed, “That’s for him to decide,” they responded. They walked over to the blonde figure and put a hand onto their shoulder, “Give it back to him, he still has yet to figure everything out.”
The blonde one complied and placed the gun next to the man’s head. They stared at his face, “What is he dreaming about?”
“Take a look for yourself. It seems to be a good one, based on how his body is reacting to it,” the brown haired one said as their eyes scanned the man’s still form. The blonde one listened and moved their hand until their palm was placed upon the man’s forehead. They closed their eyes and focused.
***
Sunlight filtered through the windows of a small house. A small child ran across the wooden floor, smiling as laughter filled the air. Short red curls bounced atop their head as their brown eyes glittered with excitement.
A woman’s voice was heard somewhere in the distance, although the words weren’t clear. Words muffled and dulled, as if they were spoken underwater. This didn’t affect the child, as they continued to run and laugh, their happiness uninterrupted.
The owner of the unclear voice appeared around a corner. She had the same red hair as the child, although straightened out, and the same bright brown eyes. She smiled and kneeled down so that she was eye level with the child, who had long since stopped running. She spoke again, but her words, once again, came out muffled and unintelligible.
She spoke his name. Over and over again. Although the child couldn’t hear her. Smiling blissfully in their own ignorance
***
The blonde figure moved their hand away and stood up. “He’s dreaming of his childhood,” they whispered as they turned around to face the two other figures. They turned to the tallest one, “What’s his name?”, they asked, “He was unable to hear it being said in the dream.”
The dark haired one smirked and looked up. They tapped their chin with their pointer finger in mock contemplation. “Oh, it’s just on the tip of my tongue,” they said, pretending to have to really think in order to answer the shorter figure’s question. They’re eyes lit up and their mouth hung slightly open, like they just figured out the answer to a complicated equation. “I know!”, they announced, “Robert, that’s it. Robert Ellis. A name that adorned the top of newspapers for a short while,” they added, not elaborating on their last statement.
The brown haired figure turned towards the other two, “I think we should get going. I feel he’s going to wake up soon.”
With a small nod, the other two agreed to this. And, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished back into the darkness.
***
He was running again.
At least he now knew some things about his life. He had a mother at some point. A presumably happy childhood. But still no name to call his own.
His eyes were still met with darkness once he woke up from his rest, and his eyes were still met with darkness as he continued to run. His skin leaked sweat this time, but his limbs still refused to ache with exhaustion.
He still kept a tight grip on the gun, still refusing to let it go for some unknown reason.
Sweat poured down his temples as he ran. He didn’t remember this happening last time. Something was different. It coated his entire body, causing his clothes to cling to his wet skin. He didn’t stop running, even after the salty liquid poured into his eyes and caused them to sting painfully.
He stopped only after the gun nearly slipped out of his hand. He stumbled on his feet, his head suddenly light and weightless. He realized why he was sweating so much. It wasn’t because of his fruitless running.
It was because the surrounding darkness was getting hotter by the second.
He unconsciously dropped the gun as both his hands reached for the hem of his shirt. His vision was beginning to blur and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the sweat from entering them. He tried to pull the shirt off, to be released from its suffocating embrace, but it wouldn’t budge.
It was like it was glued to his skin.
He began to panic. He tried pulling down the hem of his pants. It didn’t move. He tried pushing up the long sleeves that trapped his arms. They stayed stuck in place.
His thoughts grew wild. The heat was getting to his head. Jumbling his thoughts and reasoning.
His skin grew red and burned painfully. Sweat streaked across suddenly dry skin, stinging his nerves.
He stepped back and screamed. His skin began to blister. Lumps filled with a yellowish liquid dotted his skin. He raised a hand and his fingers grazed his exposed neck. Blisters burst upon contact.
He screamed again.
He fell backwards, landing with a thud onto his back. More blisters burst from under his weight. He turned his head and spotted the gun, laying just a few inches away from his head. With some of the last bits of his strength, he reached his hand out and pulled it back into his grip.
He moved his hand and clutched the gun to his chest.
His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out.
***
The blonde figure was the first to appear. They kneeled next to the man and leaned over his drenched body. They stared for a few seconds before lifting their hand up and waving it over the man’s form. The pools of sweat slowly began to lift up in little droplets, leaving his skin dry in their wake. Liquid drained out of his blisters and the empty pockets were reabsorbed into his skin. His skin turned back to its normal pale color, fully rehydrated like nothing had happened.
They lifted and converged until they formed one large ball of bodily liquids, which hovered over the palm of the figure’s hand.
The figure closed their eyes and whispered something inaudible. In an instant, the ball of liquid disappeared, leaving no trace that it had even existed at all. The figure opened their eyes and looked at the man. Their hand moved over and their pointer finger lightly traced the wrinkles in his forehead.
They smiled before placing their open palm onto his forehead, ready to view the man’s dreams once more.
***
It was nighttime. A young teenager was standing in the middle of some kind of forest or woods. It seemed that they were waiting for someone. Their red hair had grown longer since their youth, its length now reaching the top of their shoulders. It was also straightened out, much like their mother’s.
The moon casted a bit of light into the darkness, allowing the teenager to see their surroundings quite well. A twig snapped in the distance and they turned their head in its direction.
A young woman’s voice was heard in the distance, “Robert!”
The boy smiled, recognizing the owner of the voice immediately. Eventually, the girl appeared out of the cover of trees and darkness. She ran over to the boy and the two were entered into a tight embrace. The girl nuzzled her face into the crook of the boy’s neck, muttering something inaudible.
The two bodies parted and they smiled at each other. They spoke a few words, but, much like the way the boy’s mother sounded, they came out muffled and unintelligible. The girl spoke again before stepping closer to the boy. She balanced on the tip of her toes before wrapping her arms around his neck.
The two of them kissed.
***
The blonde figure removed their hand. They looked up and saw the brown haired figure standing next to them. “What was he dreaming about?”, they asked the blonde one.
The blonde figure smiled to themselves before answering, “He was once in love,” they said. They looked back at the man, “He also now knows his name, he heard it in the dream.”
The brown haired figure laughed, “That’s one step forward for progress I guess,” they said, amusement evident in their voice. He suddenly grew serious and examined the man’s body, “His skin is unharmed. What did you do?”, they asked the blonde figure, slight annoyance creeping into their tone.
“I cleaned him, so that he’ll think what happened was only a dream or a hallucination,” the blonde one replied, their voice calm.
The two figures heard the laughter of the dark haired figure behind them and turned their heads in its direction. “Simply genius,” they announced, walking over to the blonde figure and clapping their hand onto their shoulder, “Even I wouldn’t think of something like that. You’re learning quickly.”
The blonde one blushed and looked down, “Yes,” they muttered, “By why are we doing this to him?” they looked up at the other two figures, “It’s rather cruel, isn’t it?”
“Nothing is too cruel for a man like him,” the one with brown hair replied. They locked eyes with the blonde figure, “You’ll figure out soon enough, if you keep peering into his dreams.”
The blonde figure looked down at the man, “We should leave, he won’t stay passed out much longer.” They stood up after speaking, taking a few steps back until they were standing between the two other figures. The three of them slowly glanced at each other before vanishing back into the darkness.
***
Robert.
Robert was his name.
But who was the girl?
What was her name?
His mind couldn’t come up with an answer.
He looked around at the surrounding darkness. His body was completely normal. How long was he out for? Was it all merely a dream? Something his tormented mind came up with?
He had given up on running, settling with a slow walk instead. He couldn’t even trust himself now. Everything was falling apart in his head. He glanced at the gun in his hand, the only constant in this new life, that and the dreams he had. Something important was tied to it, he just had to figure out what that was.
He guessed that he'd been here for at least a few days. Although he severely doubted the thought. The darkness always looked the same. The sounds he heard were always the same. Everything was the same.
He continued to walk. For how long, he couldn’t begin to tell. His finger stroked the trigger of the gun. He didn’t know if it had bullets inside its metal walls, but something within himself told him that it probably did.
He stopped walking and stood still for a few moments. His left hand raised into the air, the gun within its grasp. He pointed the barrel at the surrounding darkness.
Bang
A muzzle flash erupted in his vision, bringing light to the black for a few brief milliseconds. The bullet whizzed off into the distance, disappearing out of sight. He smiled.
He began to walk again.
The gun was loaded. Something new to occupy his thoughts, and he desperately needed that at any moment. He walked on for a little longer, tightening and untightening his fingers around the cold metal in his hand.
After a while, he had wrapped his arms around himself. He felt goosebumps erupt across his body as a chill ran through his skin. His hands moved up and he ran them up and down his arms. He was feeling suddenly cold, extremely cold.
He stopped walking.
He breathed out through his mouth and a large puff of white fog emerged from it. He began to shiver uncontrollably. He kneeled down on the ground and eventually just sat down altogether. He wrapped his arms around his legs and pushed them up against his chest.
Every bit of warmth within his body was slowly seeping out. Tears welled up in his eyes before falling free and trickling down his cheeks, quickly freezing to the surface of his skin. Frost began to cling to the tips of his eyelashes and the short hairs of his eyebrows. He felt his stiff fingers tighten around the gun they held.
His heart dropped.
He raised his left hand up and stared at the gun. Its metal was bitterly cold and frost painted its surface.
He tried to pull his hand off it.
It stuck.
His breathing quickened and his eyes widened. Frozen tears clung to his bumpy skin as he continued to stare at the freezing cold gun. He tried to pull his hand away from it again, this time with more force.
Rip
His hand left, but the skin stayed.
He screamed.
Out of shock. Out of fear. Out of pain. All at once. He screamed for every emotion that bubbled up and exploded out into the open air.
He glanced at his hand and screamed again.
The gun clattered to the ground and he gripped his shoulders with both hands. He winced when the exposed meat of his hand came in contact with the pure white of his shirt, leaving a bright red stain in its perfect surface. His rocked rocked back and forward, his mind a jumble of pained thoughts.
His extremities began to turn various shades of black and blue, the cold destroying them from the inside out. His jaw quivered as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head. His vision darkened, black spots covering the black all around him. For once, he was thankful to be losing consciousness.
His eyes closed and his body flopped backwards, returning his mind back into the blissfulness of sleep.
***
The three figures appeared quite quickly this time. The blonde one immediately went to the man’s head, kneeling down to examine his face. The brown haired one kneeled by the man’s skinned hand, picking it up and examining it closely. The dark haired one went over to the gun, picking at the skin that clung to its cold surface.
The blonde figure delicately traced their finger over the man’s fine hairs, erasing the frost that decorated them. They looked over to the blood stain on the man’s shirt and hovered their finger over it. They smiled before tracing its outline, the blood easily leaving the fibers of the shirt once they made contact. Once the shirt was perfectly white again, they moved their hand away and admired their work.
The brown haired figure examined the man’s hand. Blood glistened on its surface and slowly pooled over and dripped off the side of it. The figure placed their hand onto the mans’. Their palms pressed together as they interlaced their fingers. The figure closed their eyes and cleared their mind of all thoughts. After a few seconds, their eyes opened and they removed their hand. The man’s hand was perfectly healed, the skin replaced like it had never left at all.
The dark haired figure turned the gun over in their hands. The skin clung to the metal like a child to its mother. They picked at an edge of the skin that was lifting up a bit. In one swift, easy movement, they peeled the skin off of the gun. They carelessly flung the bloodied patch to the side, dematerializing into nothing before it hit the ground. The figure walked over to the man and dropped the gun at his side.
The blonde haired figure stared at the man’s face. They wordlessly lifted their hand and placed it upon the man’s forehead. They closed their eyes and concentrated.
***
It was raining. A disheveled man was driving down a desolate road, the moon’s light hidden by dark clouds. His eyes darted from side to side, looking for any sign of life on the dark roads. Something dark stained the front of his shirt in large splotches.
Rain beat down upon the car’s windshield, the wipers failing to wipe them away fast enough to see clearly. The man was breathing rapidly in short, quick breaths. He was panicking for some unknown reason. He squinted, searching for something out in the rain.
After a while of driving, he pulled the car over on the side of the road. He leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his red curls, which were coated in a thick layer of sweat and grim. His eyes glanced over at the passenger seat before quickly moving away from the sight.
Sitting atop the smooth leather of the seat was a gun, covered in the same dark liquid as his shirt.
***
The blonde figure moved their hand away, a disgusted look on their face. They looked over at the dark haired figure, who was only a few inches away. “What did he do?” they asked, their voice quiet.
“That’s for the both of you to figure out,” the black haired figure replied, motioning to the man and blonde figure. They took a small step back, “We should leave,” they said abruptly.
The other two figures nodded and the three of them disappeared back into the darkness.
***
By the time he had woken up, he was pointing the barrel of the gun at his head.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He was going insane. He couldn’t trust his body and the pain it felt. He couldn’t trust his brain and the thoughts it had. He couldn’t trust his dreams and the memories they forced onto him. He couldn’t trust anything.
His hand was skinned, yet it wasn’t. He was freezing, yet he wasn’t. He was bleeding, yet he wasn’t.
He wanted it all to be over already.
He squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking out through their closed lids. He took in a deep breath. Then another. Then another. He stopped breathing. His finger tightened around the trigger. He let out the air he was holding in and pulled the trigger.
Click
His eyes shot open. He pulled the trigger again.
Click
Click
Click
Click
It was loaded, he made sure of it. He pulled the gun away from his head and pointed it at the darkness. He pulled the trigger.
Bang
He quickly pointed it back at his head. He pulled the trigger.
Click
He pointed it back at the darkness. He pulled the trigger.
Bang
Bang
Bang
Bang
A growl tore through his throat. He aimed the gun at his head.
Click
He aimed the gun at his arm.
Click
He aimed the gun at his leg. At his hand. At his chest. Anywhere on his body.
Click
Click
Click
He threw the gun away like it had burned him. His chest heaved up and down, up and down. His body lurched forward. He stared at the ground on his hands and knees. Tears ran freely from his eyes, dripping down and forming large puddles.
Why wasn’t it working? The gun was loaded. He was still able to shoot with it. He just couldn’t shoot himself.
His hands reached up and buried themselves into his mass of red curls. He gripped the strands and pulled. They tore away easily, the roots willfully freeing themselves from his scalp. He dropped the pulled hairs and reached back for more, pulling out large tufts of hair at a time.
He could feel every bit of pain this caused him. He hated it. He wanted it to be over.
Dropped hair follicles lay scattered around his body. He looked up, eyes watery, and reached his hands up and into his sleeves. Nails scratching and tearing at his skin until it peeled off and bled. Blossoms of blood formed on the surface of the white fabric. He didn’t stop. Even when he felt there was no skin left to scratch off.
He removed his hands from his sleeves and let them flop to his sides. Blood stained his fingertips and burrowed underneath his nails. His glassy eyes moved in slow circles, viewing the darkness all around.
His lips curled into a scowl. He opened his mouth and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Please! Whoever the hell you are, please just let me go!” He leaned forward again and slammed his fists into the ground repeatedly, like a child throwing a tantrum. “Let me go!” he shouted to whoever had placed him into his hellhole, “I’ll do anything, just let me go!”
***
“Let me go!”
The three figures watched from a distance as the man shouted.
“I'll do anything, just let me go!’
The blonde figure tilted their head to the side, “Why can’t we?” they asked no one in particular.
“Let me go!”
The blonde figure glanced at the other two figures, watching as they stared on with blank expressions. They took a small step forward, sympathy swelling somewhere within them.
They felt someone grab their arm. They looked back and saw the dark haired figure, “We can’t,” they spoke softly.
“Let me go!”
The blonde figure glanced between the man and the dark haired figure, “He’s pleading.”
The dark hair figure gave a small smile, “They all do,” they replied simply.
“Please! Anyone who can hear me! Let me go!”
The blonde figure tried to tear their arm away from the dark haired figure, but their grip wouldn’t loosen. They looked over at the taller figure, “Why can’t we let him go? His yelling hurts me somehow,” they asked.
They saw the brown haired figure move before the dark haired one spoke, “It’s impossible, you’ll just have to trust me on this.”
The blonde figure watched as the brown haired one stood in front of the man. The man acted like he couldn’t see them. The black haired figure spoke before they could ask the question, “We’re invisible to him, at least at the moment.”
The two watched as the brown haired figure reached out their hand towards the hysterical man. They placed it upon his forehead. The man didn’t take notice of this action. The blonde figure saw a faint pulsing of light go through the brown haired figure’s arm. The light ran down the figure’s arm and shot into the man’s head. In only a few seconds, the man was out cold, laying on the ground with his eyes squeezed shut.
The dark haired figure let go of the blonde figure’s arm and the two advanced towards the man. Unlike the other times the man had fallen unconscious, he didn’t look peaceful at all. His brow was creased, deep lines cutting across his forehead. His hands were balled up into tight fists, his knuckles a pure white. The blonde figure almost felt bad for him.
“Did you hurt him?” the blonde one asked, looking over at the brown haired one.
The brown haired figure shook their head, “Only silenced him, his yelling was getting on my nerves,” they replied.
The blonde figure kneeled down next to the man’s head. They looked up and glanced at the other two figures. They looked back at the man, moving their hand up to place it onto his forehead. The man was dreaming again, and it seemed like a bad one this time. They placed their palm upon his head and focused.
***
Robert Ellis was standing in a house. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, a cold chill drifting through them. He was leaning against a wall, a phone in his hand. His other hand twirled the cord absentmindedly between his fingers. A concerned look painted his face, like he was waiting for a confirmation of some sort.
Suddenly, his face dropped. His eyes widened. His hands shook. He spoke into the receiver, his voice shaking with every word, “What do you mean?”
The person on the other end of the line waited a few seconds before speaking, “It’s over. I no longer feel love when I’m around you.”
The man dropped the phone, it dangling from the cord in the air. He put his hands against his eyes and cried.
***
The blonde figure quickly recoiled their hand, a pained look on their face. They looked up at the other two figures, “His emotions are strong. It’s hard for me to peer into his mind,” they stated, worried.
The dark haired figure stepped up and put a reassuring hand onto the blonde figure’s shoulder. “Keep trying, he’s only a weak soul after all,” they stated, a small smile on their face.
The blonde figure sighed and looked back at the man. They lifted their hand and placed it back onto his forehead.
***
It was raining, droplets of water cascading from the heavens above. Robert Ellis stood in the center of the fallen rain, his eyes trained on a figure in front of him. His left arm was outstretched in front of his body, his hand tightening around a metal object. A gun.
The gun was pressed against the back of another man’s head. Blonde hair soaked with fallen rain. Hands pressed the back of his neck, fingers intertwined and shaking. Mouth opening and closing rapidly, words falling out and being lost amid the sound of falling water. Cheeks wet with tears.
Shouted pleas that failed to reach Robert’s ears. His eyes morphed into a hard glare, staring down at the man’s blonde head. His finger tightened around the trigger.
Bang
***
The blonde figure fell back. The dark haired figure held onto their shoulders with both hands, keeping their body upright. They sat there panting, the man’s emotions had kicked the figure out of his mind once again. A single tear slipped down the blonde figure’s cheek.
They leaned forward without a word. They blinked rapidly, clearing their eyes of any stray tears. They quickly raised their hand and practically slammed it onto the man’s forehead.
***
Robert Ellis was back in the car. He stared at the gun with wide eyes. Blood dripped from its metal surface, pooling around it on the smooth leather seat. He was soaking wet, the sky’s tears saturating his clothes and skin. He shivered slightly, not bothering to switch on the car’s heaters.
Something within him told him to dispose of the gun. To dispose of his bloodied shirt. To get rid of all evidence linking him to the scene. To get rid of everything that conformed he was a murderer.
But something else within him told him to accept what he did. To run to the police and turn himself in. To write a letter to his mother telling her how sorry he was. To admit to his sins.
The police station was only a mile away. The body would still be warm by the time they would arrest him. But he knew what turning himself in would cost. What admitting what he did would do to his body.
“I don’t want to die,” he whispered to himself, voice shaking.
But something within him told him he had to.
***
The blonde figure pulled their hand away like the man’s skin had burned them. They let out a few short, gasping breaths. They looked away from the man. “Bastard,” they spat out, “Bastard,” they repeated, voice shaking like the man’s had in the memory.
The brown haired figure stepped closer to the blonde figure. “Are you alright?” they asked, concerned.
“They’re just experiencing some strong emotions, they’ll be fine,” the dark haired figure answered, speaking for the blonde one.
The dark haired figure shook the blonde figure lightly, snapping them out of the trance they were in. The blonde figure lurched forward and lifted a shaky hand. Their fingers had barely grazed the man’s skin before they were pulled back into his dream.
***
Robert Ellis slipped the small letter into the mailbox. His mother’s name and address written in hasty lettering at the top, a small stamp right next to them. Hidden inside the envelope were the words of his confession.
Every crime he committed. Every life he took. All written on a crumpled piece of paper.
He looked over at the police station. Just a few feet away.
Just a few feet away from his death.
***
The figure slowly withdrew their hand. They lifted it up and ran their fingers through their blonde hair. They looked up and closed their eyes, a sigh escaping from their nose. After a moment, they opened their eyes and glanced at the other two figures.
The brown haired figure stood at a distance, a blank expression upon their face. They looked away once the blonde figure made eye contact with them.
The dark haired figure still kept a hold on the blonde figure’s shoulders. They smiled down at the blonde figure, giving a reassuring nod of their head along with it.
The blonde figure looked back at the man. Robert Ellis, an unassuming name. But a name that carries a heavy amount of weight.
They lifted their hand and placed it back onto his forehead.
***
The room was nearly quiet. People speaking in hushed tones, their words barely a whisper. He could feel eyes watching him. He could hear the sound of his heart beating. He could hear himself breathing. He could hear the click of camera shutters. Yet he could only see darkness.
He couldn’t move his body. He felt the sting of cold metal on top of his head, his red curls pressed flat and straight. He was sitting on wood. His body was wet with sweat. He could feel the soft touch of the blindfold they placed over his eyes.
He wondered if they would explode before he died.
He heard someone clear their throat. The hushed voices stopped in their conversations. The quiet room waited.
“Any last words?” a man spoke somewhere within the darkness.
“I wish I was never born at all.”
***
When the blonde figure was drawn out of the man’s dream, they found that their hands were wrapped around his throat. They were on top of the man, their legs straddling his waist. Their faces were pressed close to each other. Spittle poured out of the corners of the man’s open mouth. His eyes were still pressed shut, lost within his realm of dreaming.
The blonde figure was breathing heavily, their chest heaving up and down. They blinked a few times, dispelling tears that had unknowingly formed in their eyes. They removed their hands from the man’s neck, observing the deep red marks that their fingers left.
They stood up, their body hovering over the man. They took a few steps backwards, then a few more, before they collapsed into the dark haired figure’s arms. Their legs shook uncontrollably, unable to bear their own weight for any longer. “I want to kill him,” they muttered.
The dark haired figure smiled, “You can’t,” they replied.
“I know, but I still want to,” the blonde figure retorted, voice trembling.
The brown haired figure walked over to where the gun lay on the ground and picked it up. They then made their way over to the man and kneeled down at his side. They placed the gun into his hand and curled his fingers around it. They then looked up at the other two figures. “What did you see?” they asked, gesturing their head towards the blonde figure.
The blonde figure took in a shaky breath, “He’s a murderer,” they whispered.
The brown haired figure merely smiled in response.
The dark haired figure stroked the top of the blonde figure’s head. “We should go,” they said, “You’re going to need some time alone,” they added, addressing the blonde figure.
Then the three of them disappeared back into the darkness.
***
Lies.
All lies.
They had to be.
The person or people who were keeping him here had put false memories into his brain. That’s the only exclamation he would accept. He didn’t kill anyone. And he wasn’t executed for it.
He was walking, haven given up on both running and killing himself. Both options were useless at this point. Yet he kept the gun. For the only one reason: killing the monsters that put him into this hellhole.
He felt, deep inside, that they would meet in the future. Whether it be in years or days time, only fate could decide.
He looked around as his hand unconsciously reached up and brushed the surface of his neck. Deep black and blue marks ran across its surface. Had he scratched it during his breakdown? He couldn’t remember.
His hand moved down and brushed the surface of his arm. He winced as the dried blood rubbed against the exposed meat of his arm. He wasn’t healed like the other times he had woken up. Why was that?
He thought back to the dreams he had for a brief moment, stabbing his body with feelings of anger and fear. He shook his head, dispelling them. He couldn’t afford to think of false thoughts.
It hurt to breathe, like iron clamps were squeezing his throat and chest. It was more like wheezing most of the time.
His neck was bruised, not scabbed over like his arms. Had he hit it somehow while he was asleep?
Or did someone try to strangle him while he lay unconscious.
He chose to believe the latter.
Someone was here.
And they wanted him dead.
He smiled to himself.
Good.
He wanted them dead too.
The impact of figuring out that he wasn’t alone, surprisingly, didn’t linger for long. He always somewhat suspected it. He just now had confirmation.
He continued to wander around the darkness. He never stopped to consider just how big the place he was in actually was. It seemed to span on for miles, based on how long he could run or walk without encountering a wall.
The silence the darkness brought seemed deeper now. It was louder than his heart beating or him breathing. Only his thoughts could overcome it, quelling the eerie stillness that permeated the air.
His thoughts. His only friend. And his main enemy. It wouldn’t let go of the ideas his dreams told it. It believed them like gospel, reciting and shouting them at the top of their lungs. It believed that he had killed a man. It believed that he was once arrested and executed. It believed everything it was told.
His thoughts could run on for miles. Telling stories of his skin burning like he was inside an oven. Telling stories of how he was so freezing cold that the skin of his hand was easily torn off. Telling stories of how he couldn’t kill himself no matter how hard he tried.
Yet his body refused to listen to these stories. It was unharmed, none of that had actually happened. The gun was always unloaded, he just imagined that it went off when pointed away from his body. The surrounding darkness had never heated up or cooled down, he was just hallucinating. The only thing that had happened was that he had a breakdown, tearing at his hair and flesh until he passed out. Everything else was false.
Right?
He was going stark raving mad. He admitted it. He only now hoped that his wounds would heal soon. They were awfully painful.
How long ago had it been when his brain started to crumble? The first day? The first week? The first month?
The first year?
He wanted to believe that it was all imagined, but the pain was so real.
He could still hear the sound of his skin peeling off his flesh.
He could still feel painful little blisters bursting on his skin.
He could still feel his fingers and hands go numb as they were ravagened with cold.
He still had the feeling of wanting to die.
Even after the gun refused to send a bullet into his brain.
And he could feel eyes watching him right this moment.
He broke into a run. His head whipped around, searching for the person watching him.
Darkness.
Darkness all around.
His eyes grew wide. How long were they for? How long had they been watching him?
Where were they?
He felt his skin grow hot. The feeling of being watched never left, no matter how fast he ran. Panic overtook his body and mind. He thought he’d be braver than this. He thought he’d be able to face whoever wanted him dead. He thought he’d be able to face them down, watching as a bullet entered their body.
Guess he was wrong.
He continued to run. The feeling refused to leave. The panic inside him grew. Eyes watched him.
He slammed into something. He wobbled back and fell backwards. He was suddenly dizzy. His head hurt and he placed a hand on his temple.
Wait.
He hit something.
His eyes lit up. He quickly got to his feet and stepped forward. Was it a wall? Had he finally reached the end of the darkness? Or maybe, he hoped deep inside, had he slammed into a door?
A door out of this place.
He hoped that was the truth.
He took a few more steps, arms outstretched in front of him. The tips of his fingers brushed against something solid. He moved forward and placed his palm onto the solid surface.
It was there.
He wasn’t going insane.
Then he fell backwards. Like someone had pushed him. Out of reach of the solid object. Out of reach of the solid bit of darkness.
Out of reach of his sanity.
He was about to get up and walk back towards the invisible object when he felt something on his arm. He looked over at it. Nothing was there. Yet he felt something.
It felt like a hand lightly gripping his arm. No, lightly gripping his wrist.
Then he saw white.
The sound equivalent to velcro tearing filled his ears. An intense, stinging pain filled his arm. A scream tore through his throat.
The white eventually cleared, but his vision was blurry with tears. He looked over at his arm and gagged. Something had ripped the sleeve of his shirt up to his shoulder, tearing the cloth away from his healing wound.
Blood poured freely from his arm. Muscles and tendons glistening in the open air.
He reached over with his other hand and grabbed the pulled up sleeve. He slowly brought the material down, trying to cover the wound. He winced when the mixture of dried blood and rough fabric scoured across the exposed muscle.
He felt lightheaded. The sleeve was halfway down his arm. He breathed heavily. Sweat and tears mixed and mingled on his skin. In one swift motion, he pulled the sleeve down all the way to his wrist.
He wheezed through his bruised throat. Tears ran freely. He felt like passing out. But he didn’t want to return to his dreams. Anything but his dreams. He would take the pain over them.
He cried like a child. He cried like a whimpering puppy. He cried like a lost lover. He cried like a person driven to insanity.
He spoke without thinking, “Kill me!” he shouted into the void. His voice raw, like scraping rocks against sandpaper. “Kill me!” he shouted again.
He opened his mouth to shout once more. That’s when he saw something in front of him.
A small pinprick of light.
He crawled towards it. It grew larger, ever so slightly. He managed to stand up through his tears and pain. He shuffled towards the light.
He touched it with the tips of his fingers.
The light exploded outward.
He stumbled back, shielding his eyes with his arms. He fell back and landed on the ground.
Something moved within the light.
Multiple things moved within the light.
People moved within the light.
His heart skipped a beat. Freedom was finally here! People found him and have come to save him!
They moved more away from the light. Three black silhouettes. That’s all he saw. The one on the left had their arms behind their back. The one in the middle has their arms crossed in front of them. The one on the right had their hands on their hips.
He could feel their eyes watching him.
Paralyzing fear suddenly took hold of his body. He wanted to jump up and rush towards them. He wanted his freedom. He wanted to run into the light and never look back. But his body froze in place.
He could feel their eyes watching him.
His muscles quivered under their gaze. Small bumps ran along his cold skin. His mouth ran dry. His eyes filled with tears. Sweat dripped down his back and chest.
He could feel their eyes watching him.
His wounded arms burned with sudden intensity. His throat ached as he tried to breathe.
He could feel their eyes watching him.
He found the courage to raise the arm with the gun. He pointed it at the silhouette in the middle. He pulled the trigger.
Bang
Bang
Bang
Bang
Bang
Bang
The light disappeared.
***
The three figures stood in front of the man. A volley of bullets rushed towards their bodies. They didn’t finch as the bits of metal passed through them like they were made of nothing. The dark haired figure turned their head to their right and gazed into the eyes of the brown haired figure. They then turned their head to their left and looked at the blonde figure. The blonde figure’s head was tilted down slightly, their eyes downcast.
The dark haired figure looked back at the man. They took a step forwards, the other two figures following alongside them. The man went rigid, wide eyes gazing at the three of them. The dark haired figure smiled.
They were finally meeting face to face.
***
He lowered the gun to the ground.
He couldn’t shoot them.
His veins filled with ice. His body was stiff and rigid. He stared at the smile on the face of the person in the middle. Something about it made his stomach turn. He felt like throwing up.
These were the people who put him here.
He knew that for sure.
They moved closer. Sweat made his skin shine. He managed to sit up straighter.
They moved closer. Only a few inches away from him now. He only had one thing to say. A thoughtless moment of speech. The two words that seemed to always have lingered at the top of his mind.
“Kill me.”
***
The blonde figure flinched at the man’s words. The brown haired figure stared on blankly, as if they hadn’t heard what the man said. The dark haired figure frowned, a glare forming in their eyes.
“Kill me.”
The man spoke again. He sounded more desperate this time. The dark haired figure’s frown deepened. They moved closer to the man, the other two figures didn’t follow. They watched from the sidelines, knowing the dark haired figure’s intentions.
“Kill me!”
The man shouted at the dark haired figure. He reached forward and gripped the hem of the figure’s white suit. His hands shook, knuckles as white as the fabric they held.
“Kill me!”
The man shouted again. The dark haired figure scowled and roughly grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt. They shook him, staring into his frightened eyes as his hands lost their grip on the figure’s clothing. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. The figure pulled the man closer to their body, their faces nearly touching.
They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. “You don’t understand anything,” the dark haired figure growled. They shook the man again, “You’re already dead! Why don’t you understand that?!”
The man stared on with terrified eyes, skin ashen and clammy with sweat. He shook his head slightly, unbelieving of the figure’s words. The dark haired figure tightened their grip on his shirt. “Your name is Robert Ellis,” they spat at him, “You killed a man and confessed to it shortly afterwards. You were executed for your crimes,” they added, staring daggers at the man’s eyes.
The figure shook with anger. They threw the man’s body onto the ground in front of them. The man let out a small yelp of pain and scrambled into a sitting position, keeping his eyes on the figure. The dark haired figure balled their hands into tight fists, “That was decades ago,” they stated cooly, watching as the man’s eyes widened with disbelief. The figure threw their arm back and gestured wildly at the darkness surrounding them, “No one remembers your damn name! Everyone you knew and onced loved stopped caring, moving on without your sorry excuse of a life with them! Your name erased from records and headlines!” they shouted at the man, “All because you took an innocent life in your hands and crushed it,” they added angrily.
“Why?” was all the man said in response.
The dark haired figure saw red. They advanced on the man and swiftly kicked him in his side. The man sprawled out on the ground, clutching his ribs with one hand. The figure kicked him again, “You deserve this. Everyone who commits such sins deserves this. You’re just too narrow minded to realize it.”
The figure stepped away from the man as he wallowed in pain on the ground. They looked away and ran a hand through their hair, “It’s been centuries since I’ve lost myself like that,” they whispered to themself. They looked over at the blonde figure, “Want a try?” they questioned, noting the look the figure gave the man.
The blonde figure stepped up without a word. They made their way over to the man and kneeled down in front of his face. The man looked up at them, pain twisting his features. The figure ran a hand along the man’s cheek, tender as a mother’s touch. The man’s eyes lit up for a moment.
The blonde figure then ramed their fist into the side of his face.
The blonde figure stood up and walked back to the other two, ignoring the man’s cries of pain behind them. The brown haired figure smiled at them as the dark haired figure stood by their side. “What now?” the blonde figure asked seemingly no one.
“You know,” the brown haired figure started, “There have been times where we forget about them for a few decades. Or a few centuries. Or a few millennia,” they added, smiling to themself.
The blonde figure formed a small smile on their face. “I say we do that,” they said quietly.
Then the three of them disappeared back into the darkness.
***
He lay on his side in the darkness.
Alone.
He couldn’t tell how long it had been since the three people had appeared. His mind didn’t care anyway.
His eyes stared blankly into the darkness. His mouth moved slowly, forming silent words. His throat had long gone rough and useless. The barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead.
He tried to speak the words that forever repeated in his mind.
“Kill me.”
He mouthed it over and over again. Praying that they would take effect and end everything.
“Kill me.”
Click
“Kill me.”
Click
“Kill me”
Click
“Kill me”
Click
“Kill me”