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Two time,
I despise you.
Every hour of knowing I could never truly forget your face, no matter how desperately I try, eats away at whatever soul I have left.
You’re practically the bane of my existence, a splinter in my side that I could never remove. It only went deeper every time I see that insane smile of yours. One I used to love. One that could bewitched and dragged me to the edge of the world if that’s what you wanted.
Round after round, I was constantly forced to recall the memories we once cherished, twisted into a cruel, ever so painful fate we could avoided all those years ago. Yet you tossed everything aside for the Spawn even though your mind was far too corrupt to reach your “destined” salvation.
When I first saw you, I was rather wary. I’ve never seen your face in many gatherings for unknown reasons, even so, your name was well-known. Deemed as the perfect student by the Elders themselves, you were seen as the destined one by the Spawn itself, the one who was going to achieve the so-called “Second Life” the cult revolved around.
For some forgotten reason, I decided to go up to you and try to get to know you, after all, I did respect you for your immense devotion to our “lord and savior.”
I had originally thought you were simply shy, but after a short-lasted conversation, I actually found you an interesting person. You almost seemed perfect. We became “best friends” soon after that, even though we both didn’t have much other friends, yet at the time we only needed each other.
I quickly yet cautiously grew to adore you, leading me to stick to you like honey, yet that wary feeling I had at the beginning never truly left. Deep down, I knew the cultist that was always so cold hid something, something I could never even dreamt of until that very minute.
The day you drew that “holy” blade against me, I knew there wasn’t anything I could do to fix you. You had already fallen down a hole that you unknowingly dug for yourself, but you dragged me down with you because you thought that hole was the way out.
As you kept driving that blade deeper into my heart, I don’t know why I still even tried to comfort you in that moment. Maybe it’s because I was moved by your tears and prayers to our god, or maybe it’s simply because I didn’t know what else to do with you.
Again and again you turned that blade against me, ignoring all my pained cries filled with despair. All I heard was the rustle of petals and your nonstop chants to Spawn. Chants for blessings, chants for salvation, and chants for forgiveness. It was almost like you were possessed.
When the ritual was done, I was left barely breathing. The singular nightshade I had put in your hair a few hours before had started to wilt, the petals falling one by one onto the field, stained with my blood. This was where our story had begun, a relationship cursed by the gods from the start, slowly being wrapped in poison ivy, drowning out any lingering memory.
I remembered everything perfectly and precisely about that day. There wasn’t anything that could make me forget, even though we both have been dragged to what I can only presume as hell. Every detail, every word, every beat of our hearts entwined together as my blood slowly seeped out onto the field of flowers that would always remind me of you.
If I could turn back time, I would make sure that we would never have met each other from the start. Make sure everyone moment that we had and could have together be erased. So that maybe, just maybe, i could truly let go of the past and never have us both suffer in this paragon of a prison we had built for ourselves, disguised as love.
Day after day, under the never ending night sky, we’re both trapped in a realm controlled by an entity that the others called “The Spectre.” I can’t scream, I can’t do anything but watch and move like a puppet attached to strings unable to be seen. The only thing I can do is let all my emotions and hatred pent up, slowly forcing my body to decay as time went on. I had given everything to you, yet you threw it all aside and set burnt them in fire. A symphony we made together, blown away and forever lost.
Forever unfinished.
Before the incident, I had became rather ill. I couldn’t even breathe without coughing up my own blood and strange flowers. It was almost like there was a mist filling my lungs that couldn’t be subdued. It never got better. Ever since I had met you I started showing symptoms like that. Sometimes the pain was so bad, I would try to cut my throat and rip out the flowers I could feel growing there one by one, but I knew I couldn’t leave you alone in this world we reside in.
The disease only got worse with each passing day, but I’d still try to act normal and be my best self with you. I would still aid you in any manner you’d request of me and help you to the best of my ability. I always put you ahead of everything and everyone. Maybe that was one of my first mistakes.
It got to a point where every time I go outside and see the same nightshades I’d cough up now and then, I’d feel even more sick than before and go back in my room. But I still couldn’t escape them, for the sickly, sweet smell of those cursed flowers still lingered mixed with the irony stench of blood.
I was felt a small sense of relief when you killed me. My suffering was finally over and was kept a secret, hidden away from the world. But for some reason, it hurt more every time I’d open my eyes and meet yours in the middle. I could nothing but pray silently in my head to Spawn that you’d make everything quick, but as usual, the gods never answered my call. They never did. Was it because my faith wasn’t strong enough? Or perhaps it’s because I was to distant with the religion itself. The only real thing I learned in my time with that god forsaken cult was just how twisted people could be. I mean, look what happened to you. They made you kill of the part of yourself that had any sanity and hope left.
I’m no longer needed to carry that sickness, but I’m still stuck with reminders of it. Nightshades bloom everywhere I go and it’s terrifying. I can’t forget the nights I stayed up all night trying to get them out of my body. You’re a perfect reminder of those beautiful yet deadly flowers, hence why I can’t stand your face.
You were my world, the beacon of hope lighting up the void I resided in. I could never understand how someone could go from being basically a ghost, to a blossom that bloomed despite the poison it was surrounded by. But that poison would soon come into play, rotting the roots and weakening the plant until it couldn’t even reach for the sun.
You once held me in your arms in our little garden I had made for you, and whispered sweet nothings to me while we stared up at the stars, wanting absolutely nothing more in at the time. I didn’t know what to say to you back then, but in that moment I knew you were a gift from the gods themselves. No one could change my mind, no one could avert my eyes, and no one could’ve taken this away from us.
“I’m all yours,” you had gently, yet confidently stated. “I pray and hope to Spawn it shall remain that way until the day we both die.”
“I know it’ll stay that way my darling nightshade, I’m sure. I wouldn’t let anything in the world stop me from loving you.”
“Oh, aren’t you just so divine dearest?”
“Nothing could compare to you.”
“Promise me one thing love,”
“Anything for you.”
“…”
“Promise moments like these will always bless our future, and never die out.”
“I promise.”
A beautiful lie.
As Azure looked up from the paper, he couldn’t help sigh in disappointment. All those happy days, wasted. He just sat there and stared at the wall, waiting for the next round to start, but that’d be hours away so he simply decided to talk a walk outside the killer’s cabin.
The sky was a dark, sorrowful shade of red, a reminder of the amount of blood shed just so the Spectre could enjoy its little game.
The man had went to his small garden hidden away from the chaos that had constructed over his stay to check on the wellbeing of the plants. They were basically dead, which was expected. He didn’t know why he still even cared about the pitiful plot of land, it gave him a sense of false hope and acknowledgement that he could never go back to where he came from.
After slowly walking back to the cabin, he checked the giant display screen to see whose turn it was to go hunt the survivors. He saw c00lkid brutally hunting them, snapping their neck or burning the souls to death. There was still a while before the timer ended, so Azure and the other killers could t do anything but watch or go to sleep.
Azure decided it wasn’t worth his time, so he quietly slipped upstairs back to comfort of his room. The creek of the door opening and the light breeze blowing through almost brought him a sense of comfort. He lied down on his bed, ready to sleep through the pain of existing in this hell.
He opened his eyes and was met with the view of a thousand stars. He looked down at his hands, but they weren’t there strangely. All he could do was watch the ever so peaceful, yet eerie scenery slowly perform its little dance for the moon.
The killer turned around and swore he heard the grass gently moving, as if something or someone was here with him. But all there was still standing were the little fireflies lighting up the dark and a lantern sitting on a rock nearby. Moths surrounded the lights and slowly covered it with their wings.
A soft glow of light slowly enveloped him, as if trying to wake him. He suddenly felt a sense of genuine warmth, He’s forgotten this feeling, the game he was held captive in never had anything of the feeling.
Before the light could fully covered his body though, he heard the gentle whisper of two broken souls in the distant fog. A single tear fell down his eye as the light covered his completely, waking him up and dragging him back to the present.
Maybe somewhere else they could have been happy, but not here, not ever. Maybe in an unreachable dream, they could’ve held hands, stayed together even though they had both traveled to hell and back. Maybe in another life, they could have been normal and had the chance to live life to the fullest with each other. Maybe, just maybe, they could step into a true paradise, never to be lost or forsaken, reunited once more as one.
One was lost to the blood stained hands of the other, yet they both would never be pure. The two could never be cleansed of all the sins they’ve ever done, and they both know that. All they can do now is let the fire consume them, the flames representing all the faults, dilemmas, and shattered parts of what could’ve been.