But they're right.
I tried to leave like a fucking idiot. Obviously, I wasn't thinking straight. But I just got... sucker punched, to put it lightly. Had a little bit of a "moment" or ten. I figured throwing myself at Redlight, even if I knew deep down it wasn't going to stop anything, was better than just sitting around. Cause at least then I'd be DOING something...
but doing something does imply accomplishing something.
And I certainly wasn't going to be doing that by just... throwing in the towel.
Everyone kept telling me that, but I didn't want to listen. Cause that would imply I really COULDN'T do anything but wait it out... and I was... and am... very VERY sick of waiting. Especially since the blood is just... rising higher and higher. Can almost FEEL it sloshing around my waist. The blood I spilled by deciding to get involved in this mess. The others keep telling me its not on me. That none of it is ON me... but that's something I can't believe. Death caused from inaction is just as heinous as taking that life yourself. I used to see it time and time again on the job. Situations where... if someone had just done something - done ANYTHING - it probably would have saved lives... but no. Too worried about their own skin to do that, aren't they? Would rather video it and post it on youtube for the hits than actually stand up and DO something... stand against someone...
Anyway. Cypher stopped me from actually leaving.
He gave me a choice, actually. The gentleman's asshole that he is.
One, I be a good little Nobody and stay on Lockdown in my room until I let "sense back into that thick head of [mine]".
Two, I continue to try to leave, so I'd remain on Lockdown. In a Loop. Of my room.
Opening a door only to find yourself reentering the room you're leaving gets old FAST.
Cypher's not going to let me out of here anytime soon. He has enough to worry about without adding me as a flight risk, and I don't blame him for it. I'm supposed to be here to help the issue, not split his attention another way... which is probably ANOTHER reason why Redlight was doing all this shit. I know I've been... quiet... since my last outburst. But I didn't.... I wasn't in the right mind to talk to all of you. Wasn't in the right mind LAST time. I shouldn't have written that. I shouldn't have. But I did. And now Redlight KNOWS just how much he's getting under my skin. Oh, he assumed before, I'm sure. But now he knows.
I've had two more videos hit my email account since then.
One was a video... of the house Sam and I bought together. The house that we... were supposed to raise our family in. The house that we abandoned along with the rest of our lives when... when He came. When every second was haunted by the thought of seeing that... "face" again. That sightless gaze. everything elongated. Stretched. He... He owned that house, by the end. It wasn't ours. It was all His. Every corner. Every dark spot. Every time we turned around... we were haunted by that feeling. that CRAWLING. that clawing in our guts... at just the thought of seeing Him again...
Seeing those rooms again.... they almost seemed normal. All decorated... with someone elses things. Someone else's life. The camera rolling over pictures on the wall. A little girl posing in a ballerina outfit. Cute girl. Wide, green eyes. Probably twelve. Thirteen. Somewhere in there. Then the camera went to a picture of her twin brothers in matching soccer outfits. Gaps in wide grins. Red hair. Just like the hair on the bride in a wedding shot. Nice looking couple, though he was obviously a lot more laid back than her. Next shot told me why. She was a lawyer. He was a stay at home dad. Bit of a... chef extraordinaire, I guess.
The camera took my over school photos. Vacation pictures. Small trinkets, no doubt souvenirs from this place and that...
Then the microphone began picking up... noises. crying. strained breathing. Before the view turned... and spanned across the couple. Bound to chairs and gagged. Terrified. Confused. Already bruised. Already bleeding. And their kids... nowhere in sight. Morgan's voice starting off screen. Telling me... how I was either one of two things. Either I was a coward - whimpering and hiding away while letting others take my place. Or I was sitting back and watching... because I was enjoying it. Because I was... just like him. Going on about the feeling he got... from dominating another human. Like a High of some sort. Telling me that I had to know the feeling. That they knew where I'd come from. How I'd grown up. How my old man had trained me. How I already had blood on my hands before I'd even got out of Detroit... and now that blood was just... soaking me. From head to toe.
When Morgan stepped out... he had the kids with him. The twins were knocked down to the floor in front of their parents. Tied together.
The girl... stood beside Morgan. Emerald eyes staring straight ahead.
And a red ribbon in her hair.
Morgan handed her a jerry can without another word. And she took it as if on autopilot. Stepping up... and turning it over on her brothers. They squirmed in their bonds as it soaked through but got nowhere. And once the can was empty... Morgan handed her another. Which she splashed over her parents. I could practically smell that stench as I watched them all twist and wriggle.and thrash. Knowing what was coming next... and being completely powerless to do anything about it. Least until the can was empty... and the next thing the girl did was take off all the gags. One by one by one by one. The pleads and demands were instantanious... but it all fell on deaf ears as Morgan grabbed the girl and pulled her back over to him. Out of harms way, I guess, before handing her a set of matches.
Once sparked, she tossed the small flame onto her own brothers.
The fire burst out. And so did the screaming.
The parents screaming in anguish and horror as their boys screamed and cried in agony.
Until the flames crossed over to where the parents were tied up. Then it was nothing but agony.
Morgan left with the girl, and all the rest in Red. The house burning behind them. He took the camera personally as he walked. Staring into it as he told me if I ever really stopped... to compare Dr. Marsh - Proxy Bob - to Sam. Going on about how my choice in allies really were no different from my choice in enemy. But that.... since I seem so hypocritical with it, then I wouldn't mind them playing the same trick on Alicia.
Her only damn crime... is that her family bought our old house.
And now she... they.... they sent me another video. I don't really want to get into it but... Alicia was their new tool. They put her into a white dress. Barefoot. Still with that red bow in her hair...
Morgan still did his.... own routine. That sword. The rape. Always the same. The same pleads. Screams. Cries.
then there was her
and afterward... i was sent a small clip of her... released from the Red. when she got back control. knowing what she'd done. knowing everything... just like Sam did... just like... Dr March does...
her screaming... just keeps echoing in here.
just keeps... echoing....
odd, really. I don't remember the walls being white in here.