That thing That abomination It has been chasing you, stalking you. An apparition, who you can only see. To others, it made you look crazy. That object owning a mutilated face cornered you. The surroundings near him glitched as he floated towards, leaving a drippy trail of blood from the open wound. You wished and commanded your body to do SOMETHING, ANYTHING. But fear was stronger. It was now in front of you, so close to your face. This ghost. This glitch.
Seal was employed at last! For once, he could finally provide needs without worrying. Ever since the madness worsened, sources have been scarce. Outbreaks of Zeds were more frequent. Reality bent in ways, not even the smartest can comprehend. Danger was present, a staple in every place. The job was indeed shady, but the need for it made Seal apply. Not like he has a choice.
He walked to where he was told to walk. Gun pointed to his head. The shaking of his hands was nonstop, accompanied by cold sweat trailing down from his forehead down to the chin. He is screwed, perfectly screwed. One mistake was done. But was it necessary that they will be this strict about it? Seal can't question that, he has no power in this.
Will he end up like those corpses that he would clean up every day? A bullet to the head? A slashed face? Would his guts be left out in the open as he bleeds to death? He could imagine the pain of a blunt object struck to his body, forced to be thrust as bones crack.
Those words he cannot reconstruct from a hazy memory. All he knew was that it felt of care and warmth. Regrets of not replying back ebbs within, he should have.
Your efforts to escape were useless, for your attacks only passed through it like a hand through smoke.
"Daddy!" You yelled but your attempt at calling your first and only source of comfort and security did nothing.
But it's strange, it hasn't attacked you. Not one bit. It stood before you, so still like a statue.
You yell again, but its head flinched looking at you.
He's going to attack you, you thought, out of instinct you call out for your dad again. Hand being raised and coming in close contact you could only close your eyes.
A headpat.
Opening your eyes, you couldn't bare the grotesque view of that face but looked anyway with confusion.
It took time to figure it out. It flinched when you called dad out, and it only responded to that. Hand still on your head, it ruffled your hair in such a gentle way. In a way that felt like it was....apologizing. He glitched, some of it affecting you and distorting your image but it was harmless.
He's a goner. A monster. A restless soul only wandering.
Now, whose fault is this? Who is to blame? Taking dear dad away? He did nothing wrong. He only had one intention. And it was to look after you. Unfair isn't it? Clearly, he deserved to live longer compared to the rest who dwell in Nevada.
Whose fault is it? Hank, The one who started the madness The Auditor who has control of the Drive The Agency?
