(Eepy here! This chapter contains heavy topics such as suicide, and if you're not okay with that, maybe don't read this, and patiently wait for the next chapter to come out. If you choose not to heed this warning, then whatever happens to you is of your own fault. Enjoy!)
Three Days Prior to Apology
A few days before James confessed that he wasn't actually helping Farmer McColl wrangle a cow, he was losing sleep because of horrendous nightmares that he never fully understood. All he understood is that it was ruining his well-cared for beauty.
It wasn't even something like being perpetually dirty, never being able to be clean. It was Lovecraftian enough to scare even the most hardened of engines. A series of nightmares targeted at him, but yet, not tailored to what he usually considered a nightmare.
"Darkness again?" he grumbled, walking about the ending abyss, each and every one of his footsteps echoing around him. "Better than mud.."
"What did you do..?" another voice echoed, angry, yet sad. "Have you any idea what you've done?"
"We've been over this for the past few nights. Be more specific! Show yourself, while you're at it! It does me no good if you're just going to lurk in the shadows of my own mind."
"What did you do?" the voice asked again, angrier this time, and louder. "WHAT DID YOU DO."
The voice kept asking him the question, getting louder and louder by each sentence, until James was met with a sickly, rusted, near faceless version of his best friend.
"Nate!?"
"W̷͎̦͉̣͖͖̭̎͋̈̕H̶͇͎̤̃͛̓̅̍A̵̙̘͛̒̔̀̕T̵̩͓̜̬͔̓̊͜ ̸̧̢̱̕D̶̢̛̘̻̘̦̩̔̾̅͝Į̷̲͙͔̹͌̑͌͆̋̚Ḑ̵͉̭̭̱͗́̃̚͝ ̸̬̙̋̈́̍Ý̷̼̗̈́̆̈̄̍̑O̴̮͇̻̱͑̂͌̄͑͌Ü̶̳͓̳̯͓͖̒̀͐̆͠ ̷̼͈̼̲̩̀̑̈̌̈̅̊D̵̨̧̛̹͓̥̑͌̚Ơ̶̙͔̝͈̗̊͋͠!̴̨̘͈̼̱̯́͑̊?̸̨̠̼̲̞̂̄̉̚"
His friend rumbled and creaked, as if he was going to fall apart at any moment.
"Do you have ANY idea what you've done to Bluebell?"
"No. And I don't care. Serves her right."
"CARE, JAMES. YOU BEST CARE." the rusted saddle tank roared.
Two glowing, unhuman eyes peeked out through the darkness of his smokebox, glaring at and right into James. It sent the coldest chill down his spine, as his body was petrified with nothing short of fear. His mind, however, not so much.
"You call her sinful, yet here you are, driving her to do one of the most heinous things a person or engine can do."
"What are you TALKING about!? I'm getting justice served for you!"
"There is no justice in making someone take their life. I see that she's sorry...in her own way. She may never have said it to my face, but I see the regret in her eyes. The way she walks, the lack of her original personality. You have served nothing, you have instead destroyed your own wife."
"Good."
"T̷̡̡̛̛̮͇̯̼͎̟̥̼̜̟̭̦̖̳͍̙̙̔̓̏̅͊̀̑͋̆̓̉́̓̀̂̀͘͝ͅͅḪ̶̢̡̡̢̢̡̲͇̼͚̱̪̟̖̬͕͔̟͖̹͍̗̱͔͓̲̗͋͜Ȇ̷̡̛̺̼͎̟̣̟̖̱̻͙̲̮̘̙͉̞̝̜̲̣̗̓̃̂̇̚ͅŖ̸̢̖͍͓͎̯͇͎̺͕̲̜̮̹̞͈̦̟̍̅̎̊̅̉̀̉͊̊̈́̓̃́̓̎͌͊͆͝͝͝͝ͅȨ̶̢̢̡̢͖̭͙̪͖̼̙̯̻̥̖̼̲̤͕͇͚̬̼͚̤̦͍͎̳̄̿̒͑̅̎̿̉̍̂̒̌̌̿̃̓̓̑͂̌̆̾̿̚͝ͅ ̶̡̛̯̜͔͙̅͐̾̾̉̃̏̃͑̋̓͆̀́̽͛͑̄̐͂͗̇͐́̀͝Ì̷̢̢̧̡̡̳͈̯̟̼̰̼̟̥̰͖͈̼̭͕͚̜̦̗̦͚̉̀̈́̐̎͋̅̋̍̈́̀́̒͋͗̂̏̋̔͗̕͜ͅS̸̢̧̛̰͚͖͔̝͚̼͔̣̱͈̤̘̺̲̦͚̹̞̗̤͔͆̔̿̋̇̄̑͐̇̋̈́̓́̌̓̋͊͑͐͝͝ͅͅͅ ̵̧̢̛̛̘̭͇̺͖̳̼̤͍̭͖͔͈̹̞͕̞̖̩͔̮̲̥̇́̿͋̂̾̊̽̂̈́͒̌̀̍̓͊͐̿͜͝N̵̗̖̥̟̗̩̒̔̓̋͆̈́͘̕̚ͅƠ̷̢̬̻̮͚͍̫͍̼͓͎͇̹̰̬̗̼̗̼̤̳̱̺͖̫̘̟̒̍̅́͛̉̽̈́̀͒̀̉͑̽̕͘͜͜͝͠ͅͅŢ̸̨̛̝͕͚͈̣͍͓͉̺̮̫̫̥̞͍̝̗̩̼̼͍̈́͑́͛̈́̃̅̑̑͊͐́́͒̾́̒͌́̇͒͛̾̈́͗̈̂̉͘͠͝ͅͅH̶̨̢̧̧̧͇̼̦̙̥̲͉̖̉̀̊̒͘͝ͅĮ̵̟̳̮̥͇̠̥̭̙̦̜̺͖̂̐̾̊̊̆͌̂́̈́̈́̀̔̍͆̾͗̊̑̃̎̽͘̕̕͝͝͝N̸̢̡͇̹̮̖̭͚̫̪̙͍̼͔̪̬̼̭͎̮͕͍̪̯̫̪͖̓̐̄̈̎̀̀͜ͅͅG̴̺̜̗̼̘̰̝̥̖̥̺͎͓̞͈͇̭̩͎̠̟̠̥͊͗͒̿̈́̔̋̂̉̉̓́̓͊̈́͗̃̾̈̚͠ͅ ̸̟̞̲͎͎̪͔͓̯̼͕̓͑̅͒̀͆̾̋͑͊̓̂̈́̎̒̂̎̀̇͂̕̕͜͠͝͝Ģ̷͕̳̤̣̗͙̼̬̬̦̲̙̤͙̖̳̀̐̏̽̀̃̀̓̈͆͛̐͊͗͝͝Ơ̶̧̡̼̬͍͕̲̟̮̮͚͍̗̩̫̺͎͙̫̝̞̣̰̪̩̝͎̝͗͂͛́͊́̏͛̾̊͑̆̃͛͘͜O̷̢̢̡͇̺̦̩̼͚̯̭͎̝̞͉̫̰͖̦̠͙͇̟̼̬̗̙̓́̉͛̀͛̂͐̾̉͘͘̕͝͝ͅĎ̸̢̧͖̝͉̦͕̳̤̣̲̻̘̳͖̉̍͜ͅͅ ̸̡̛͇̰̗̳̳̮̏̇͛͊͌͂͆̔͗̈́̍͋́̐͗͆͂̂̚̕͝A̷̢̛̛̭̭̦̪͚͕͕͔͍̹͓̭̖͎̣̽́̊̈́̑̋͊̓̏̅̋͑̈́̓̈́̃̐͛̈́̅͗̈́́́̕͝͝͠B̵̯̟̲͂̈́̉̓͘͝O̷̦͔̲͇̫̳͙̱̮͖̗̬͛̊̾U̸̦̗̩̥̥̦̰̰̔͒̀̌Ţ̵̧̮̪̙̣̦̏̊͐͑̀̀̈̃͑͠ ̶̡̢̛͙̹͔̦̝͍̥̣̥̱̤̥̲̔̈́̅̈́̄̈́͛͐̿̂͛͆͛͐̒͐͘͘͜͝͝İ̵̖̱̠͍̣̤͈̖͓̱̩́̽̃̀̓̃́̂̊̍͆͒͊̈́̋͒̎̚ͅT̴̨̧̛̥̝̖̮͓͕͇̟͇͔̤̘̱̜̺̬̽̏̉̈͑͜.̶̟̥̘̘̊̀̌̒̃́̔͆͘"
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