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Endless eyes.
Eyes.
Eyes.
They stared at me.
They peered into my soul.
I stood on that podium by myself. They surrounded me on all sides, not letting me escape.
But…
I didn't want to escape.
I needed to do this.
For him.
Eyes began to dissolve into matter and liquid, falling into the endless abyss below.
My feet stood firm on the platform, the air stagnant and still. Goosebumps formed on my skin beneath the layers of armour, waiting for the piercing of thoughts, overload of memories.
The emptiness of being braindead.
I closed my eyes.
Sharp. It was sharp. Like shards of glass.
My eyes shot open, to see a familiar figure.
Green.
No.. no he isn't supposed to be here.
“Derlord?” Avery said, emotion filling his tone.
“Avery, you shouldn't be here.”
“What are you doing?”
“Avery, leave. You have to leave.”
“No! Tell me what’s happening.”
My head pounded, like someone was using a hammer drill to break into my skull.
I staggered, Avery stepping closer.
“Are you okay–”
“Avery, don't come any closer. You have to go. Leave. Now.” I pleaded.
“Not until you tell me what's going on!” He stepped closer. Eyes began to appear around us again.
“I'll be okay, alright? I just need you to leave.”
“I'm not leaving.” His feet planted into the ground.
“Avery please. Leave. Please. I'll be okay. I just need you to–”
“SHUT UP. I AM NOT LEAVING YOU BEHIND!” He snapped, his slime skin bubbling. The blackness rumbled.
“I came here to save you. I'm not leaving you behind.” Avery stepped forward again.
“Stop, Avery…” I hissed again as a tsunami of pain flushed into my head.
“You are not okay!” he ran forward.
“Avery, if you… if you come any closer- I'll kill you.” I managed to say through the unbearable pain.
Silence passed between us.
I landed on my knees, holding the sides of my head.
Eyes closed.
Then I immediately opened them again.
Pain…
Overwhelming.
Breathe.
My head was on fire.
Breathe.
Arms hugged me. Cold. Gooey.
Breathe.
That's when I clocked the green slime hugging my golden armour.
I pushed him off, scooting away, lifting myself up with the help of my golden axe.
“Avery–”
“DEREK DON’T TELL ME TO LEAVE.” he yelled. It echoed in the surrounding void.
He grabbed my wrist, staring into my eyes.
That's when I noticed it.
The faintest of yellow gleamed in them.
I'd seen that in the mountains.
I ripped my hand from his grasp.
“You’re not Avery.”
“What?! Derlord–”
I pointed my axe at the fake, struggling to keep it up.
“You kept your promise. A more convincing–”
Stab, stab, stab.
The floodgates shattered violently, pandemonium insued, purging the memories I had with ones that weren't mine.
But.. they seemed familiar.
Hot. It was hot. So hot. My nerves were frying from the overload of information to my body.
I forced my axe into the ground, catching myself.
Breathing was erratic.
My heart was fast, too fast to be normal.
It was so scalding, like I was being burned alive at the stake.
Breathe.
I grasped at control. I needed control.
I held my breath, waiting for the walls in my head to climb higher. Block them out.
Block them out.
The memories slowed but cracks appeared in the infrastructure of my defenses.
Not much longer.
I noticed Avery had taken a seat next to me.
“Get away from me.” I forced myself up, holding my weapon.
“Let me help you–”
“You’re a false king.”
“What?”
“Crazily ironic, you're going to die to a lord?”
“Derlord what are you talk–”
“SHUT UP.” I swung my axe, forcing Avery to back up.
“Derek–”
“You don't get to use that name!”
Swing.
“It's m–”
“Stop with this facade!”
Avery stood on the edge of the platform, the eyes around us crumbling into rocks and mud.
“Let me help you. Let me–”
“YOU ARE NOT AVERY! STOP ACTING LIKE IT!” I hysterically screamed, a horribly, raspy scream. My throat was so dry.
Dry as the desert sand.
I felt as if I was going insane.
My hands shook, trembling from my fracturing state of mind.
Breathe.
I kept forgetting to breathe.
My brain switched on manual breathing as I stared at the imposter.
My heart was slowing, beating at a pace that was starkly different from minutes ago.
My mind was shutting down.
Avery stood quiet. Frozen.
“If you are so real, check your inventory.” I mumbled.
“What?”
“Check it.”
Avery stood, not moving an inch.
“So you are a imposter.”
My brain slurred, spitting out gibberish, mixing with my speech and grammar.
“Derek please–”
“IF YOU SAY–.. MORE TIME.” the axe I was holding moved so fast to his neck.
My lungs tightened.
Breathe.
“Please don't do this.” Avery said. The emotion poured from his tone, drowning my head in guilt.
“Please.”
This is wrong.
This is not wrong.
Was this..
No it wasn't.
“If you are… real Avery.” I slurred.
“I'm– sorry.”
I kicked him off the ledge with the last of my built up strength.
I fell on my knees, watching him fall into the void.
He called out my name.
Slow my breathing.
I was hyperventilating.
Out, in. Out, in.
What was happening to me?
The walls crumbled.
A giant hand held everything I could ever comprehend and more.
Scenes of places.
People's personalities.
History.
Emotions.
Senses of others.
That's the only few I could notice. There was so much it was hard to identify it all.
Maybe…
I didn't have to identify it all.
Stop this curiosity.
Curiosity killed the cat, afterall.
The other hand grabbed my head for support and shoved everything into my brain cells.
—
I couldn't even tell if I was screaming. If my mouth was open. If my chest was moving. The game disappeared from the screen, a daily wallpaper filling my vision.
Dark room.
Was it dark?
My mind felt so bright, so gray, so vantablack.
My head felt as if someone had clawed their way through my skull, filling it with unnecessary thoughts. Unnecessary knowledge.
I grabbed my mouse, my other hand grabbing my head. It was so feverish. Boiling, cold, lukewarm.
Boiling.
Cold.
Lukewarm.
Breathe.
Focus.
I opened a document and pushed myself to write. For Avery.
This was for him… or was it for someone else?
Multiple people’s faces scattered my memories; which was Avery again? So many different faces, clothes, ethnicities. So many…
Focus.
So… so lightheaded.
I tried to push the amount of information away to see clearly but there was too much.
Too much it strained and fell back on me. My vision went black.
…
WAKE UP.
I forced my eyes open, my head heavy and dizzy.
There was too much pressure.
Felt like Atlas, holding up the world.
An abundance of information.
A satellite.
A landslide.
A spyglass.
A crumbling monolith.
A blue computer screen with a peculiar white octopus on it.
A burning, glowing city at the dead of night.
Exploding planets.
Focus.
I opened my mouth but my speech was so slurred I couldn't understand myself.
My fingertips felt soft blades of grass.
Cold metal.
Blood.
Cool winds.
Focus.
Focus.
Stop hallucinating.
Just write.
Just write.
My hands could barely feel the keys as I tapped them. Black smudges of words appeared on the white document, some underlined in red.
Avery.
Avery?
Avery.
Keep saying his name, you'll remember.
Don't forget.
I won't forget.
…
I don't want to be forgotten.
My hands swiftly moved across the keyboard, typing and typing.
For him.
For him.
‘At the crossroads..
Keep moving forward.
Or something like that.
I was never really good with endings.’
—
The mouse fell off the table. No more clicking. No more tapping.
Dark room, illuminated by the white flashbang of an open document. Someone held their head, moving from side to side.
Hands gripping their hair, pulling out strands of stunning locks.
Incoherent words and mumbles escaped their mouth.
Twitching of their legs.
Bags under their eyes.
Their skin boiled.
Their nerves sent spasms through their fingers and toes.
Who were they?
I couldn't tell you.
So crazed, so full of hysteria, madness, anguish.
Pain.
They didn't want to be forgotten though.
They wanted someone to remember them.
Don't let them be forgotten.
Avery.
Don't let them be forgotten.
—
A knock on the door. Someone had complained of a stench and silence, coming from this very apartment.
As if an animal died.
As if rotten milk was left on the counter.
As if something hadn’t been washed in weeks.
As if someone had vanished.
Knock, knock.
“Police!”
Silence answered them back.
Chills ran down their spines. They were used to this work, but they knew that they would find what they didn't want to see behind this door. One of them stepped back, kicking the door off its hinges.
Number 330 was beside that door.
Room 330.
The monitor was bright, lighting up the room. The floor was clean. An open mini fridge beside the desk. The furniture in place.
No appliances were on. No sounds of pets. No tapping of walking feet.
No crime scene.
Just a chair, with a body inside. Clumps of hair scattered around. The skin was pale. The eyes were open, so clouded as if trying to see.
Limbs twitched. Nails full of hair.
Some of their veins looked yellow in colour.
Small exacerbations of air would leave their mouth every few minutes.
Questions were asked.
Nothing.
Just moaning and twitching.
One of the officers pulled out a radio, one much older and harder to trace. A strange white symbol engraved on the back.
“Dead.
Derek Hutchins is braindead.”