Chapter Text
It's been 276 days since we defeated her.
After the destruction of the Hotel, almost all the objects moved to Yoyle City. I mean, some outskirts were damaged in the battle, but it wasn't too atrocious. And since the city is so huge, we had enough room for everybody, even the rejects. The remaining algebralians, X, Four, Six, and... Two, are still around, so rebuilding some structures hasn't been too hard. After a while, it finally started to feel normal.
I missed normal.
I remembered the day One gave me that contract. Told me that no matter what my choice was, she could still find a way to gain "that power." That my denial would mean nothing. I signed the deal.
I remember the feeling of my existence fading away. It was like trying to grab onto slivers of the wind. You can feel it, touch it, live in it, but it only lasts for a short time. And then I became nothing.
I sometimes heard a voice in the back of my mind- well, not really, since I didn't have one... well, somehow, I heard it. It was like a whisper of familiarity. The wind is coming back, pulling me up to the surface of reality.
"It's my fault."
That felt like a cry. I tried reaching out, grabbing the words and comforting it. "No, no... you didn't do anything wrong, we couldn't have predicted this, I-" But I couldn't finish the thought. I felt the wind disappear. I'm dragged down again. Over and over, I'd suffer through that state. Trying to wake up but having nothing to wake up to. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
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I set my diary down and hid my head in my palms, curling into a ball on my plush chair. I have to stop thinking back of that. I always secretly complain about those thoughts, even though I'm the one reminding myself about them. I should just choose to forget. Yeah. Forget. Ignore. Another synonym I can't think of right now because my head is pounding so hard.
I patiently wait for myself to be normal again, to no avail. I look at my photos. Ground yourself, I think, looking at pictures of my friends. Recent photos of Pin, Saw, Donut, Fanny, and I. Photos of me and them. Yes. I'm real. I'm real. I'm real. I'm existing. I'm living in the wind. My breath, though shaky, seems to regulate. Yes. I'm so alive. I spend a moment drowning at my epiphany. It's exhilarating. After that encounter, I've learned to not take life for granted.
I yawn, quiet. A sign. All the stress on my mind has worn me down.
Climbing into bed, I wind down for the night. The small glowing faerie lights of my apartment always seem to calm my nerves. "Green is just a naturally soothing color," Saw would say. "It's GR8TE at putting me to sleep!" She was quite enthusiastic about it, so she even bought me a set. After everything that's happened, I can't say they don't help. Despite my earlier panic, I was able to fall asleep relatively quickly, holding onto one of my small yellow pillows for support.
...
I'm back in that damned chair.
My nails, painted periwinkle, gnaw into the velvet blue armrests. This isn't new. This isn't living. But it feels so... real. I try to stand up, call for help, call for them, but no reply. A yellow paper with a blue stamp is placed in front of me. I shriek, back away into the confines of my seat. I'm in enemy territory. I feel like a child, hiding in bed because of a monster. A damn monster. I hear that haunting voice.
"Finally, Gaty!"
Please let me leave. I want to exist.
"What's it going to take for you to sign?"
I want to stay there. I want to live. I want... I want...
I want. I want.
I want.
I want. I want.
I want. I want.
I want.
I want. I want.
I want.
I want.
I want.
I want to wake up.
And I do.
I'm broken into a cold sweat, staring up at my gray ceiling. My heart is in shambles, the adrenaline pulsing in my veins. At least it reminds me of my subsistence. I turn to see the time. 3:00 AM. I relish at how I lived through that.
But... why did that happen?
Yes, I still have anxiety. Yes, I'm still scared of her. But those fears have never manifested in my dreams. Why? Why now? Is she calling me? Am I still bonded to her? Have I not escaped her grasp? I think I'm paranoid. Yes. I must be. This must be a one-time thing. Yes. Yes. Yes.
I do not go back to sleep.