Tuesday, July 26, 2011


I watched a man die yesterday. I know it's dangerous to post this here publicly, but everything is dangerous now. I can't walk out my front door without possibly getting killed or taken or any other of a number of terrific possibilities, so I'm done caring.

Things finally snapped last night. I was walking home that night after dealing with some business. I should have scheduled the meeting some other time, but it was the only one that worked for them. I needed to get this done. I need the table cleared so I can focus on saving Judith instead of other things.

I don't remember seeing where the guy came from. I just felt it as he bull rushed me, knocking me back into an alley. I stumbled, tripping over refuse before coming up to my feet again. I got a good look at my assailant. He was a man of average size, but that's not what caught my eye. That honor went to his police uniform, and to the gun in his hand. He was here to kill me.

The single moment I took to look around the alley for an exit revealed I had no choice but through the officer in front of me - The officer who had a gun drawn and aimed right for me. I could only come up with one possible out: Get him talking.

"I take it that Rick sent you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. I held my hands up, careful not to make any sudden movements. When someone has a gun pointed at you, you don't want to get them jumpy.

"Rick? The hell you talking about, kid?" His voice was that of a younger man, probably not much older than me. He was probably relatively new in the cult, then.

"Maybe he goes by another name... I think I saw Skhisma call him Peter once." I dared to take a half-step forwards. The officer was distracted enough to not seem to notice.

Instead, he just sighed and gestured halfheartedly with the gun, "Look, kid. I ain't gonna start talking. I was just told to get ya outta the way. The psycho didn't get it done, so now I gotta care of it."

"Peter was the one who let him out, then."

The officer sighed again, pointed the gun straight at me, and shook his head, "I ain't saying no more, kid."

I started rushing forward. This was how it was going to end: forced into a back alley and shot by a corrupt cop because I was stupid enough to go out at night, and then didn't keep my eyes open. But I wasn't going to just go down without a fight. I had to at least try.

I hadn't taken two steps forward before the gun went off. It must've had a silencer on it, since there it didn't make much noise. I flinched, only to realize the officer had missed. He was on the ground with another man on his back. I heard gurgling, that sickening sound of a person grasping for that final bit of air before it all goes black. Finally, the noise stopped, and the newcomer stood up and calmly walked over to me.

"You should not be out this late, Alex. Go home before more come," His voice was quiet, cold, and emotionless.

I took a chance, stepping towards him and looking him over. His eyes stood out more than anything else. They were just like Judith's when she was laying in my bed before TheArsonist... They were dead. "Skhisma, I take it."

His only response was a nod. Then, he started walking away. I followed him.

"So you are the one killing all of these people, then?"

Another nod.


He looked at me with those dead brown eyes and spoke with that passionless voice, "The cult must be eliminated. You now see why. Go home, Alex. I will not always be there to help you."

"Except I need your help wi--"

"Judith is gone," Skhisma interrupted. I remember nearly throwing a punch at that instant, only to recall what he had done just moments before to the police officer, "It would be in your best interest to stop Brett and then make TheArsonist less interested in you. This isn't your fight."

"Judith is not gone, you son of a bitch."

"I'm sorry. She is, and it's my fault. I wish I could do more, but I cannot. Go home, Alex. Let her go."

I couldn't stand it anymore. I grabbed him by his shoulders, forced him to stop and face me. There still wasn't a single reaction on his face, just that same dead stare. I met it and growled, "You beat it, Damien. Tell me how so I can help Judith do it too."

"Damien is dead, Alex."

"Oh shut the hell up. Don't give me that bullshit. You're Damien. You overcame TheArsonist. Tell me how or I swear to whatever god exists that I will make you tell me."

He just shook his head, "Damien is dead. That's how he beat TheArsonist. Now, Alex, go home." I felt a rag press over my mouth, I smelled the chloroform, and I woke up a few hours ago.

Fuck you, Skhisma. Fuck you.


  1. Fuck, kid.

    How about you take a moment and figure out how many insanely stupid things you did there. Then maybe move from there and stop being an idiot.

  2. I wish I had some evidence to prove that I called it but I don't, so I'll just have to say "called it" and hope you all have faith in my honesty.

    Called it.

  3. Finally, just the evidence I needed to confirm my previous beliefs that my dearly departed Damien is less than departed. After all, that is precisely the overly dramatic choice of words that he would partake in. Oh, how interesting this is going to be.

    Damien, we simply must meet and talk for awhile. I know you claim to be dead but, let us be honest, when it comes to us two, death is just a feeling. We never really had the chance to converse last year, when we shared your body. You were always far too busy trying to be rid of me and running about like the frightened child you are. It would be so good to sit across from you, to speak with you, to touch you.

    As for you, Alex, you are much too persistent. I was so certain that your arrogance was a charade intended to protect a weak inner being. It appears I was wrong. You truly believe in what you say. That will make it all the sweeter when I finish what I am doing and you finally break.

    Damien is right, Alex. You should go home.