Clutching The Darkness

Chapter 26: Someone, Help Me...

I walked through a metal, heavy door. It took a great deal of effort of even pushing it in far enough to wedge my body, but I tried to use the axe to anchor it open as I skidded inside. Such little physical effort was suddenly making my body exhausted. I found my heart racing, whether from my anxieties or from my movements, but even then I felt a tinge of worry for my health. My torn flesh was wrapping into itself in loops like barbed wire, but at the process of a snail's pace.

I noticed that this entire floor had no slopes whatsoever. This must be the final floor. Perhaps that explained the progression in style of the hall. Everything changed past the metal door. The walls held carpeted textures all imbued with rotting wood accents. Mold and maggots wormed their way from the presentation. The floor dotted with various molds, all of it gently swaying with pustules of pus and toxins oozing out. There was the stench of death and decay. I heard faint whispers and the slight rubbing of shoes squeak on about. More Lettermen I gathered.

"When was the last time I ate? Do I even need to eat at all in this world? Fuck eating, I'm so dehydrated. Water, just a drip. Just a small gulp. I need it. I need it..."

That's right. My thoughts are also his. Even if our souls are now diffusing as whole, in the process of it all we're still united. Maybe when Synkronus is finally molded, I'll have the individuality of my own monologue. Or maybe that's just loneliness.

That's truly what most of this added up to though. I thought that my whole world was against me. And it definitely felt as if it were. I had done wrong, yes, but there were aspects of my reality that were simply cruel. The fear of tight, cornering spaces, like that day. The fear that I'll be attacked. The fear that no one will help me. The fear that I'm hated. The fear that I'm not as kind as I ought to be. The fear that I'm being emotionally dismissed. The fear that I'm being criticized. The fear that I'm lesser than someone.

In a way, I really should have been afraid. Because to an extent it was all true. Even if those people didn't exemplify those behaviors as a whole, it was true to me. Or at least, it was real in my head. And that was real enough. And I suppose that if whatever is in my head is real enough, then that also means that the pain in my chest right now is as well grounded in reality.

I felt empty. I felt shallow. I felt as if my soul was being dragged out of my body. And it was. I was a half without my inner voice. Then for just a minute I was reunited. I finally had someone to understand my pains. Someone who noticed every drop of blood that had been yanked out of my vessels. Someone who had been with me through every trifle in life. Who had seen the tragedies I had experienced as well as caused.

Caused. Because I did as well. This reality is just a manifestation of me. Me, me, me. I'm selfish. I'm egocentric. I was arrogant to believe only my ideas about the people around me. I was arrogant and selfish to lash out at someone who at the time was a beloved. I was impudent and impertinent.

"All I want is to be punished. I want to be punished. I need to be punished."

I had hurt so many people, and even if this reality is just a manifestation of them, it didn't matter. It didn't matter to me. They still bled, they still cried, they still loved, they still spoke. They were my friends. And I murdered them. All because I was too weak to properly deal with my insecurities.

"What is punishment without pain? If I need to be punished, then I must also deserve pain."

And not just the intrusive distortions, but the general distortions as well. The parasites of the real world preyed upon my mind. The distorted were truly the real visage of the people amidst this town. From the volatile homeless turned into lepers, to the indifferent every day laymen of the transmutant breed. To who can also forget these gossiping, shallow students of herd mentality: the lettermans. And what about them...the butchers-