small death ✝️ far cry 5

✝️1✝️

Idiot.
Complete and absolute fucking idiot.

"Mary? Mary!" The words came from a disgruntled, tall man with a twangy accent and confusion lacing the syllables he spoke. Strands of his dark chestnut, shaggy beard fluttered as his lips moved to form words that the person he was directing his speech to couldn't hear.
That person is me. Mary. 23 year old self proclaimed home wrecker, as of now. I couldn't bare to hear that voice anymore. A voice I once turnt to for comforting words during these troubling times. A voice I took advantage of and began to think about as my wandering hands travelled south towards sinful areas in the dead of night.
Nick and Kim Rye were welcoming to me, an injured stranger who turned up unannounced at their doorstep. A small, visibly rattled girl who's clothes had been dyed a sickening red by blood that could've been hers, or could've been someone else's. However, the deep gashes and plethora of bruises told the story that the liquified life-force was indeed hers. And with this information in hand, the overly kind couple let her weave her way into staying at their residence.
God, I wish they'd turned that idiotic, stupid, bitch of a girl away before she got herself tangled up in forbidden feelings. If I had knew myself, what feelings I'd eventually harbor for Nick, I'd have turned around and sprinted back into the arms of some wandering cultist, begging for them to make her atone. Begging for them to carve 'lust' into my skin right then and there. So deep it could never heal over, or be carved out.
Better now then never, I guess. My legs carried me past the runway that led to a beat up aircraft hangar, home to an ugly yellow plane that belonged to the object of my misplaced affection. The short, slim appendages continued to push through an endless barrage of branches and thorns till they eventually wore, bare, milky skin almost marred by the brutality of the forest I had just ran through. My knitted sweater snagged on a couple of naturistic stray arms extending from the abundance of bushes obscuring my vision, unrooting itself from my patterned skirt.
As I finally broke through the forestation, my vision immediately began to swim with hints of light.
Oh shit. Oh no, not now, fuck. Why, why of all the fucking places this shitty field could be placed, why did it have to be here?
Rows upon rows of delicate, innocent looking white flowers filled my field of view. They tempted me with an illustrious song, a breeze blowing a concerning amount of saccharine pollen in my fair face, picking up strands of stray, sandy hair. Petals danced under the all of a sudden punishing sun. My vision continued to deteriorate as I inhaled more of the seductive flowers fumes. My body felt more and more sluggish, as I tried to tentatively bring a petite hand over my nose and mouth, a pathetic attempt at blocking anymore of the tempting aroma.
It's not the first time I've encountered the Bliss. Hallucinations forming in the fantasy realm created by this addictive drug. However, the first time I encountered the hallucinations, they took a much different form. They came in flocks of butterflies, that cradled Faith, the Seed sister that inhabits this false paradise. Instead of Faith, a different figure occupied the field of droopy flowers. A figure I wanted to see the least. A figure I was running from. A figure that pushed me into this fertile field in the first place. Nick.
I put all my remaining strength into a futile attempt at pushing myself away from the towering man. All I managed to do was stumble back, one heeled foot catching on the other.
"No... P-please, leave..." The breathiness of my voice embarrassed me, desperation coating my every heavy exhale. Pleading, hazel eyes peered up to the fake Nick, ashamed that this was what my brain had conjured up in the Bliss. Tears clung to my thick eyelashes, impairing my vision further.
The Nick, that wasn't Nick, opened its thin lipped mouth to speak for the first time. I flinched, afraid of the voice that enraptured my soul and led me to this current place in time. The voice that followed struck me with such a sense of fear, so much that I'd much rather of heard the real Nick's voice.
"Come, join me in the Bliss little lamb." A haunting mixture of the siren of the Bliss, and Nick's voice shot through my core. Faith's soft, eerie tone tainted the warm, thick accent that belonged to the man I longingly pined over. It made me whimper, compressed my insides until I struggled to intake oxygen.
In my last few moments of consciousness, my eyes found the aviator glasses that Nick wore upon his sun-kissed face, masking a constellation of endearing freckles. I found my reflection within those glasses, and stared in horror at the girl within those frames.
Glossy, plush lips parted, panting almost lewdly, as a prominent blush painted, what I was scared to admit to being mine, high cheeks. Atop my high cheeks lay eyes that threw me off a considerable amount. They didn't look like mine. None of this looked like me. Eyes heavy lidded, pupils blown way out of proportion, completely diluted in a problematic manner.
Lust. It was the only word I could use to describe what I was seeing through a pale green filter that was caused by the Bliss. I could feel those letters burn into my flesh, covering every inch of youthful skin. I felt naked under my very own cloudy eyes.
I soon began to drift further and further into a realm like no other. A fake elysium. A poisoned apple of Eden. As the pale green filter became foggier, I took one last look at the man in front of me, and relished in his presence. Although he was not the real Nick, it was the closest I could get in these final moments, as I may never see the real Nick again.