"You're so warm, Harold."
My wife said, cuddling me from behind, her long, slender arms wrapping around the bare waist of my body as her chest pressed firmly against my back. Our bodies clicked together like puzzle pieces, perfectly shaped for one another as I twisted myself around, my arm looping around her bare body as I pressed her firmly onto me.
She nuzzled her face into my neck, breathing onto it softly and inhaling my scent, occasionally sending my nerves into great ecstasy. I tilted my head a bit as she dived deeper into my skin, a small smile playing across my face, my eyes remaining shut, unable to open due to the wave of drowsiness over me.
"Thanks, my love, but I must say you are much warmer than me." I replied with a chuckle; my voice laced with affection.
"Only because you're beside me." She mumbled back against my skin.
My heart chuckled happily, beating faster as blood pumped around my body at great speeds. I felt a warm fuzz spreading across my chest and a faint blush forming from the top of my neck to my cheeks. Embarrassed by my flustered expression, I dove my head into her shoulder, closing my eyes and clinging onto her like my life depends on it.
"How cute. You really are such a softie, my love." She spoke; her voice honey soft laced with unmatched affection and love.
She stroked my hair, her fingertips grazing my scalp with a featherlight touch that sent a pleasant feeling across my bones.
"I'm so proud." She started.
"Proud of what?" I asked, my blush slowly fading away.
"That I fell for a man like you." She said, staring into my eyes with a smile unlike any other.
My body stopped for a second. My mind couldn't believe the words she had said, and before I knew it, I felt tears prick at the side of my eyes begging to be freed so they could burst out freely. I buried my face into her soft shoulder, trying my best to keep the tears at bay, but a few had escaped and drizzled down the side of her arm and onto the mattress below us.
Noticing the effect the words had on me, she let out a small chuckle before stroking my hair and lulling me to ease. Her hand was softer than feathers as her touch sent an ample number of sensations throughout my body. I curled up closer into her, my arms slithering across her waist with tenderness as I feared that letting go would make her disappear forever.
"Do... do you really believe that?" I asked, my lips slightly quivering. "Am...Am I... really someone to be proud of?"
"That isn't even a question. You are the greatest man I know, Harold. And the kindest. You may have all this wealth and muscle and strength, but your heart is one of a child's, and that is the thing that I love most about you. Your heart dictates your life, and when you have such a sweet and innocent heart, your life is one many would dream to have lived. Be proud of yourself, Harold. You are amazing." She spoke softly into my ear, her words touching deep within me as her voice was filled with admiration and affection that not even my mother could give to me.
"Thank you. Thank you so much, my love. I'm sorry if I was ever cruel to you or if I had ever failed your expectations...." I started.
"No. You have never disappointed me. And you never will. You are my life and my hope. A kind man. Someone everyone should strive to be. I'm happy that I can live life easy knowing our kids have you as a father. And I know that you will never let them down nor ever fail to protect them. Ever." She said, staring into my eyes, her gaze tugging at my very soul.
My eyes shimmered with hope and resilience as I stared back into those captivating pupils. They were filled with such conviction and authority that I dared not to move my face a mere inch in fear that I would be struck down that very instant with such a cold glare.
And before I knew it, a smile had been planted onto my face. A smile of hope and wonder and promise. I had known that from that day on, whatever life threw at us, I would have protected her from it forever. Hearing kids come out of her irresistible lips with such motherly tone only strengthened me more.
"I'll protect them. I'll protect you. I'll protect this family. Forever. I promise." I replied back with conviction.
"I'll...protect them. Protect. Promise. What promise? Who am I protecting? What am I doing here?" I mumbled incoherently, the words just spilling out of my dry lips without meaning nor reason.
My eyes were dark and lifeless. No colour nor hope filled it as I stared up into the dark abyss. My pupils, dilated and worn, were fixated on the small metallic needle that shimmered randomly in the darkness, wondering and waiting for that singular drop to destroy me yet again. My arms were sore from behind, stretched out above me for what felt like an eternity. My body had fallen asleep, shut down from the continuous same position I was in since the moment I had entered this room.
Quietly, my stomach rumbled from the lack of food that I had been given. Outlines of bones started to become more visible as my skin clung onto them like leeches. My rib cages poked out, forming a curve around my chest that soon dipped inside the further down you trailed my body. I peered to my left.
A mirror. A singular mirror provided to me to show my own feeble and weak state. I could see my eyes. My very own eyes. Ones that were prided with hop and wonder similar to that of a child's now looked more lifeless than a corpse. My cheeks were hollowed as my skin was pale.
Dryness covered my lips as bits of skin hung off, desperately clinging onto me whilst other bits had dried up blood splattered across it. My throat was dry and weak. I had no energy left in me. The screaming, the continuous screaming, caused my vocals to be reshaped and shattered as I could feel blood drying at the back of my windpipe as I struggled to breathe like a normal human.
Erratic and random. Short and quick. Exhale and inhale. Breathing had now become a luxury. One I had to ensure I didn't lose nor minimise.
How much longer did I have to go through this? How much longer do I have to suffer? Why can't someone else take my place? Why am I still doing this? Who am I fighting for?
Questions popped and disappeared from my mind in mere seconds as I felt my brain was on the brink of insanity. Being shrouded in complete darkness with the only source of any light being my own torture needle had broken me down worse than I had ever been. My only ray of hope was the very thing set out to destroy me. When does thi....
Drop.
My body shook violently as my mouth opened to let out a silent scream. My arms flailed, and my legs shook violently as my body writhed in insurmountable amounts of pain. My back rose from the cold, hard table as I threw my head back in pain.
Realising that I couldn't let out even a fraction of a scream, I clamped down onto my bottom lip, pressing against it with immense force as thick, rich and red blood slowly began to flow out, trickling down my chin and dripping onto the table beneath me. I moved my head from left to right and then right to left, curling my toes inwards as I stabbed my fingernails into the middle of my hand.
I wailed silently as I felt an internal wave of vomit rushing up my stomach, clawing at my flesh, trying to edge its way out. Instinctively, my mouth shut close like a lock, hoping that it would prevent me from throwing up. I let out a sigh of relief in my mind as I felt the wave slowly dissipate, my eyes closing shut as the pain stopped momentarily.
That was...
Drop.
My head flung to the side as my mouth opened agape, vomit and sickness flooding out of my mouth like a waterfall, never-ending. The skin on my throat felt like it was being ripped apart, inch by inch as wave after wave after wave of vomit exited me like parasites.
Tears streamed down my face as retched sounds exited my mouth, accompanying the sick fluids that left my body. My hand shook, my feet struck the table aggressively, and my body broke down in agony. And before I knew it, i was throwing up blood. Blood accompanying mu sickness. Blood covering the floor. Blood collecting beside me.
After a few minutes of nonstop agony, my head fell back into place as I looked up, my face weary and my eyes lifeless. My stomach rumbled and growled, begging for food now that I had cleansed my internal body.
My breathing was low, slow, and almost dead. My lips had dried up completely, and the colour in my face had now completely disappeared. My beard was scruffy, and my hair smelt of dead animals.
How much more? How much longer do I have to take this? When does it end? Can... Can I just stop now? I've suffered long enough. Haven't I? All my life, I've been suffering. From my childhood to my teen years, standing up to my own father, the scrutiny and hate that I had been thrown onto me, was it not enough? Is that not enough for me?
I can stop now, right? I've done my bit. I've tried. So then, why don't I just stop. I've been fighting all my life since the day I was born, fighting for everyone around me, and yet there is still this emptiness within me. I wonder, will I ever be able to fight...to fight for myself? Will I ever be able to think of myself once, just once before another person. Can I ever be selfish? Is it right? Can I? Will it be okay, just to accept everything and rest, just for once. Oh God, please tell me. Tell me what I should do now.
"I...I give..."
"Woah, looks like you're in a problem, eh?" A voice said from the corner of the room. Tilting my head up lightly, I stared at a silhouette of a figure, sitting perched up on a stool staring directly at me. He was draped in a cloak, with a hoodie over his face as he sat with his arms clutched together, his body leaning slightly forward. I couldn't see his eyes nor tell any facial features, and yet I felt an odd sense of familiarity coming from him.
"Who...Who are you?" I asked, curious.
"Use that brain of yours, Harold. Surely you wouldn't forget your mate after all this time, eh?" He spoke, his voice tinged with warmth, and yet an unforgetting criticism leaked from every word he uttered.
I rested my head back onto the table as I looked up at the ceiling again. My eyes closed for a second as I let out a small breath.
"This isn't real. You're in my head." I replied back with the same tone as his.
"Real or not. Who are we to judge another man's reality? After all, the reality of oneself is determined by how much they wish to connect with the world around them." He spoke as he stood up and walked around the table in a clockwise direction.
"Always playing with your words. Looks like that hasn't changed, even for a hallucination." I retorted.
"And you always hated words. Never understood them. Complained about the reason behind them. Do you remember what you told me that day about words?" He asked.
"If words were the epitome of our way to create meaning with other humans..." I started.
"...then emotions were the worlds way to remind us that meaning is born by our very existence." He finished, finally stopping as he hovered over the table, looking down at me.
His orange eyes glistened in the darkness as his face contorted into a smile. A smile I knew very well. A smile of friendship. Black hair slowly draped out of the hoodie, falling perfectly onto his forehead as he rested his hand onto the side of the table.
"You look like shit, old friend." He chuckled, a smirk on his face.
"Shut up. As if you look any better, Danyaal." I chuckled back.
"But I have to say, you have come very far. I'm surprised you're still hanging onto your sanity in here." He sat, sitting on the edge of the table.
"If you're standing in front of me, then I've already lost my sanity. How are you even here?"
"Like I said, reality is what one wishes it to be. I may be real to you. I may not be. Instead, shouldn't you be happy to at least have someone to speak to, even if it is all in your head?" He spoke.
"Whatever, so what are you here for? Are you going to keep annoying me, or are you going to at least ease this situation?" I retorted.
"Fuck no. Who do you think I am." He exclaimed back.
"What a great friend you are, you bastard." I replied back unamused.
"Yep, so have you had enough time to think?" He asked.
"Think about what?" I replied, looking at him.
"Well, your life. Have you thought about it? You know the type of place this is, the atmosphere, the conditions. Being the good guy doesn't work in such a place. You know you have to let go of it. This is your reality now. The outside world is no more than a mere fantasy Harold. You have to adapt, or else you'll die." He explained to me, his voice harsh and critical.
"You want me to become like him? To lose my humanity and throw away everything that makes me...me." I replied anger brimming in my voice.
"I'm not saying that, Harold. Of course, you could never be like him that man is on a whole other level. But perhaps your ideals and beliefs just don't work. Have you ever thought of that? It's not the environment that needs to adapt, it's you. You need to fit in with this world. And to do so, you have thrown away everything. Become someone different." He replied back blankly.
"And where does that leave me after? When this is all done, how will I live with that? How can I live, knowing that I had stooped down to such a level and become such a horrible person? I won't be able to forgive myself." I spoke.
"We all have to become things we don't wish to be. It isn't a matter of how; it's a matter of when. Sooner or later, everyone changes. We all fall down whilst others rise up. Some destroy their morality whilst others gain it. That is how the world works. Nothing more than a wheel, turning and grinding and once in a while it stops. It stops and lands on that lucky or unlucky person and forces them to change as well. That is nature's law." He claimed.
I sat silent for a bit. My mind wasn't able to accept what he had just said and yet I knew deep down that he was right. This place, this world that I had been trapped in, it demanded me to become worse. It wished for me to be evil and cruel and calculative. If I wanted to live I had to adapt. Nature of course is nothing more than a wheel of chance.
He's right, isn't he? I should understand him, and yet even after everything, my heart aches. My heart it throbs and cries. It doesn't wish to change. But why? Why do you cling onto such ideals, such beliefs, such...emotions. This is my reality. I'm on a table being tortured. Why do I still hopelessly cling onto my views? Who...What...Why?
"Look at you, thinking it so much. You were always the good guy, weren't you Harold? Always the positive thinker, the well wisher of all. And it got you far, heck you even got married and had kids. And I bet they're proud of you, and what you have done, but even they would understand the place you're in. Adapt Harold. Before it is too late." Danyaal said, his voice no longer harsh but more desperate, a vulnerability that he had never shown.
"Look at you, caring so hard my dear friend. This may be the first time I've sensed affection in your words." I smirked.
"Don't get too laidback. This is the only time. And heck, it had to be your own imagination to envision me as being kind. How...adorable. But time ticks Harold. The wheel is turning as we speak." He spoke, his finger moving in a clockwise direction next to his hooded head.
"Around and around and around. Turning, grinding, shifting and morphing. So, what is your decision. Will you adapt? Or will you die?" He spoke, his orange eyes glaring at me through the darkness, piercing my very soul.
"You already know the answer, bitch." I smirked.
"I thought you would say that." He sighed.
"What you said wasn't wrong. The best way to survive here is to adapt. If I want to have a chance, I have to become crueller. And I thought about it, and it makes sense. It's rational. Yet, what is rationality in the face of emotion? My emotions, my ideals, that is what makes me who I am. Changing to what nature wishes is not something I can accept. And I never will. And you know why? Because I know the feeling of change. I know the terrifying sickness that comes with it. Becoming someone I don't wish to be." I began.
"How would I face my family? My very own children. My beautiful daughters, who always believed int me, who always saw their daddy as a hero. I can't let them down. If changing means, I'm no longer a hero in their eyes, I will never change. Never. Like you said. I'm the well-wisher. And so, I shall continue to wish well. No matter how many times I question myself, how many times I freeze, that will never change. I am me because of what I am." I elaborated.
"Unbelievable. Truly are an idiot, aren't you friend?" He claimed.
"Yes. I am an idiot. Perhaps the biggest there ever will be. But, hey if being an idiot means I don't have to succumb to change, then let me be an idiot until the day I die." I chuckled back.
"Well then. I wish you luck idiot. We both know it won't get easier. And you have only been in here for a week." He spoke, standing up as he started to walk away, into the darkness.
I looked at him, as he walked, his mannerisms stiff and cold as his footsteps echoed across the entire room. He then stopped, suddenly as he turned his head back looking over his shoulder at me. Raising his index finger, he moved his hand in an anticlockwise direction as he smirked.
A smirk that was filled with malice and cruelty. His eyes gleamed with excitement glowing on and off before he spoke. His voice was odd. It was unusual. Unlike his normal tone, it was robotic, glitched as his voice cracked and changed pitches.
"Remember, around and around and around. Turning and grinding. That is all nature is, one big wheel of chance. Just pray it never lands on you, my friend."
And then he disappeared. Vanished before my very eyes into thin air, his form dissipating without a trace. And I was alone again, left in the dark abyss with only a mirror and a needle hanging high above my head, waiting for that singular drop to torment me over and over again. I let out a sigh and rested my head back onto the table my eyes closing for a while.
Well, back to my torture, I guess. I wonder when he will come to visit. It has been a while since he has spoken to me. And how is my daughter? Is she alright? I wish to see her so soon, my dear child. Hang in there, once this is over, I shall come to you, and I promise to never let you go again.
Drop. Drop.
Drop. Drop.
Four strikes of water hit me in the rhythm of two. Instinctively, my mouth shut as I let out a muffled, aching groan as my eyes felt like they would pop any second. The vessels throbbed as they reached the centre of my pupil, diluting my vision temporarily. I clenched my hands into a fist, my overgrown nails digging into palm drawing out blood. My feet curled into a ball as I raised my knees up slightly. It was quick, sudden and unrelenting. The same exact pain over and over again. And yet, it seemed to grow much more horrible as time passed.
Bear it. Come on Harold. You can do this. It's fine. Let the pain kill you. Let it flow to every inch and corner of your body, let it strike your heart, let it break your mind, but never let it change you. You can do this. You have gone through a lot. Do it for your daughter, for Alissa, for Annabeth and Jolynn, for your family waiting for you at home. Be the hero.
I replayed that same message over and over again in my mind etching it deep into my memory. I knew what I had to do, I knew I had to keep enduring it, and I knew I would never give up.
Drop. Drop.
Two more, as I kept my mouth closed. My body violently shook as I groaned and wailed. The pain was unbearable. The veins in eyes throbbing and pulsating desperately pleading for it to end. Clenching and shouting, my heart pumped and throbbed wishing to explode. My brain, numb and collapsing, scrambling to hold onto any sanity I had left. If hell every existed, then I'm sure this would be the place.
A lonely, isolated room, in the corner of a laboratory far away from civilization, all alone, hooked onto a table with a death beam pointing straight at my forehead. Sweat dripped profusely down my face, as my breathing was incoherent. And yet, I still braced myself against it. Even if the pain was unbearable, I was able to bear it.
"Is that...that all y...you got?" I let out, the words barely forming in my mouth as I let out a weak and weary chuckle.
I lay my head back down on the table, letting out a sigh of relief or pride, I knew not which, as my hands open up and rested back in place, the blood dripping down onto the floor.
Drip. Drip.
Drip. Drip.
Suddenly, the door slid open as I saw a figure standing there, watching me. His red eyes glaring at me like a beast watching its prey as he made his way towards ne. His movements were slow and precise, every foot placement was perfect, the way he lifted his leg to the way it flew across the air and landed firmly onto the ground. His body movement and the way his hair moved across his face, to the position of his hands and arms. Everything about him was perfect. Precision at its finest.
He walked over beside me, a thin, small smile across his face as he saw the horrific state I had been reduced too. His eyes search across my body, moving up and down my feeble state. A piercing gaze. I walked in silent anticipation, an uneasy dread running through my body as I lay exposed and vulnerable to any tortures he threw at me. He didn't speak.
For a while, he just stood over me, analysing me, taking in the sight in front of him as if calculating the best approach to take. His white hair, snow white hair, rested gracefully in front of his rectangular glasses, his eyes peaking through strands of hair. Slowly, he raised his hand and gripped the table, curling his index finger slightly before he began to tap.
Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap.
"That sound." He started. "It gets stuck in your head, doesn't it? That continuous sound. Tap. Tap. Pause. Tap. Tap. Pause. One, two. One, two. Have you ever wondered? Why is it always that same exact rhythm? Four knocks. Four drops. Four taps. It's unusual isn't it, Harold?"
For the first time, I had heard uncertainty within his voice. It was odd, his usually cold and cruel demeanour had shifted as he spoke with a sense of powerlessness like he had no control over the things he wish he had. His eyes slowly contorted in displeasure as he thought about what he had said.
"I...I don't know. I never really thought of it. But now that you say that, why is it always four? Annabeth had mentioned four knocks, when we arrived there were four knocks, and even the drops were four. And now u just tapped four times." I replied, wearily.
"It's interesting, isn't it? Like a mysterious force is always dictating that whatever happens, happens in the state of four. I asked him this. The scientist. And what he told me, was terrifying. It chilled me, for the first time I had felt fear. Would you wish to know what he had said?" He spoke.
"Yes. What was it?" I replied, firming myself for what was about to happen.
"I don't know. That was all he said to me. At first, I thought he wished not to tell me about it like it was a secret only he could know. But I know him, and I can every lie from truth he says. He truly didn't know. Him of all people, the one cursed to know it all had no idea why it was always four. The unknown is scary. We fear things we have no idea about." He started.
"A natural defence mechanism and we tend to steer away from it thinking that whenever we try and make one step closer to it, that some terrible demise would occur. That we would end up being completely destroyed by it. And yet that is how the world has progressed so far. One man had taken that step and had kept going even after the fear. One man who walked towards the unknown. And the world turned out like this." He elaborated.
"I get that. It's scary not knowing things. It's scary because deep down you worry that you will make a mistake, that you won't get it right and in doing so, you will cause harm to yourself or others. I felt that once, before I had kids and before I had a wife. I feared that step forward. But we won't know what it means to progress without the risk of losing it all. To walk forward is to acknowledge the walk back as well. And that is what I love about humanity. We never fear to take risks. No matter how dangerous or how hard they may be, we never give up. And I'm proud of that. And I'm proud that there was never once in my life, where I had ever regretted taking that step forward." I replied, a weak smile forming on my face.
"How...amusing. Even in the state you are, you still hold onto such high belief and hope for humanity. Tell me, Harold, is humanity truly deserving of such praise? Even when there are people like me and him?" He asked, leaning closer.
I stared into his eyes. His red eyes and for the first time, I saw vulnerability. I saw someone screaming back at me for help. As if the man in front of me was nothing more than a mask to a small, hopeless child. His eyes shimmered with such pain, that I could not feel anything but pain and remorse towards him.
"Yes, even you two. Everyone deservers a chance to be better. No matter how terrible they are, no matter how horrific the crimes. We are all humans after all, and we all have our failings. What matters is what we end up doing with such failings and how we strive to be better. The best of us, are not the ones who are perfect, but the ones who are filled with flaws and yet still look forward striving to become someone better." I replied, staring back into his eyes with resolve.
"Well...I see." He spoke, his eyes slightly widened by shock as he cleared his throat before stepping back.
He walked around, his movements much more different than before as I knew that what I had said clearly had an effect on him. His usual precision was slightly clumsy, and his body much more tense than collected.
"I see even this is not enough to break your will. You truly are one of a kind Harold. TO have such willpower, even after facing defeat after defeat, even after losing your own daughter and being unable to protect her, you still keep holding onto your beliefs and ideals. What drives you to such lengths?" He asked without looking at me.
"Love." I replied without hesitation.
"I see." He replied back and then he walked off, without saying another word.
That was unusual. I haven't seen him that rattled ever before. Something must have happened between him and The Scientist, and yet there is something odd between those two. Why do they seem so...similar. The way they act, the way they think, the emotional detachment they have with humanity. Why is it so eerily similar? Could there be more between them that we don't know about? The aura that emanates from both of them isn't one of two siblings and two different people but of one person. One soul. Is that even possible? The more I live in this reality, the more fantastical this becomes. What world have I been thrown into?
Oh God, this is becoming more out of touch with reality by the second. I wonder, if I ever leave this place, will I still be me? Will I be able to hold onto myself long enough before I exit this place? Will nature's wheel really never land on me? It seems so unlikely, yet the possibility is still there. God, if you are listening to me, please. Please keep the wheel off me. Please keep me away from change. Never let me succumb to such horrors and terrors of madness. Let me be able to face my wife and children. Let me be able to still call myself...myself their...hero.
Walking down the corridor, I felt an aching pain in my chest. My usual mannerisms faltered, as I stumbled on my own foot, falling onto my knees.
Inhale. Exhale. Exhale. Exhale. Exhale. Exhale. Breathe.
I clutched my chest as I held myself from collapsing by placing my hand on the wall beside me. I felt a singular bead of sweat drip down my forehead and fall onto the floor.
"You seem...distraught." A voice spoke.
"Shut...up. You knew this would happen. So don't give me that." I replied back the words barely escaping my mouth.
"How the mighty have fallen." He proclaimed pridefully. "The man who has killed without remorse, who has never shown anything beside enjoyment in seeing people afraid, is now on his knees because of a singular man's words."
"And yet, this was all part of your plan? You knew Harold would have brought such an effect on me like this. Because...Harold is the polar opposite of me. A man purely based on emotions and connection. A man who is himself because of the people around him and because of the emotions within him. I have never seen such a man before. He truly is the person that I will never be able to even touch." I replied admitting to the feeble state I had been placed in.
"Yes. Harold is...fantastic. I have never once seen a man so connected with humanity more than he is. The way he holds his head up high and the hope he holds is remarkable. Even I can say that I am jealous of his persona." He replied back.
"Well, I have confirmed it with myself after seeing him, he wont break from the torture method. His will and hope in the people and himself are far too high for anyone to break." I replied standing up and brushing my clothes.
"I suspected that. But at least I got some data out of it." He replied.
"Out of him or me? You won't even answer that, but I already know the answer. Anyways, how are the other two? Anything of interest?" I asked.
"Annabeth is still...unresponsive. Jolynn on the other hand is working well, yet there is something unusual about her. Something has happened. And yet, I do not know what." He spoke, a sense of worry in his tone.
"Is he involved?" I questioned.
"Perhaps." I replied. "But time will tell, let us not get ahead of ourselves. All in due time."
"Until that time comes then." I said walking off.
"Until that time." He replied, his voice dissipating.