( Set between Incogitant and Recondite. )
It was so lonely in the woods. Usually they'd have been a sort of comfort for 3, of nice, undisturbed quiet. But it could only handle the silence for so long before its mind wandered back to Mark, to the reason of its current solitude. The alternate raised its hand to the bumpy skin of its chest, wincing at the contact. Still not fully healed, then. It'd be better not to try talking, or it'd just end up making its current situation worse.
3 curled up around itself slightly, looking up at the sky. Hopefully, Mark was alright, and had already remade his life without it. After all, it was never something the human would've even looked at twice, if he knew what it was from the beginning. It had just made its place in Mark's life by force, and now everything was back as it should have always stayed. 3, the monster, the predator, and Mark, the monster's victim.
It was stupid to think otherwise, and yet it'd fooled itself into thinking they could be something more than enemies. They were something more than enemies, but it wasn't genuine. It was a lie, like everything about it. A creature made to kill, to assimilate, to mock and cause despair. This was what it deserved, this loneliness, to put it back in its place.
It felt something cold and wet pool in the corners of its eyes, rubbing it away furiously. It wasn't going to cry, that was a human thing. Alternates didn't cry, didn't do anything but be menacing, all teeth and claws. It needed to remember that. But its tears didn't listen to it, didn't stop or slow. Soon enough it could feel them flowing freely down its face, gathering close to its chin. Of course it was crying. Once again, 3 just kept on being the defective one, the useless one. The realization was cold, the environment around it just as unforgiving.
And there, in the frigid night, the alternate laid down, trying to sleep through the dull ache of its wounds. Hopefully tomorrow would be better.
It wasn't fooling anyone with that thought.
YOU ARE READING
"𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪."
HorrorMark answered the call, listening to his friend. But something was wrong. Cesar's voice was usually passionate, filled with life. Now, he sounded... Monotone. Dead. He couldn't go over to his best friend's house in good conscience, not when he sound...
