Oh god, it was Alex. Alex killed her. He's asleep now and I just looked in his closet and... and she's there. He killed her. That's why he felt so guilty. That's why he's been acting so insane since I got back. Alex killed Kiera.

I don't know what to do. What if he kills me next, and how long has he been like this? I-I think it's been since I I mean TheArsonist murdered his family. I think it was then since it only makes sense. No one could just take that and keep moving. No one has the will to find out that his mother had her blood drained, drop by drop, while her loved ones were forced to watch. How could one stay sane when he learns that his stepfather took his mother's heart in more ways than one, before he had his throat slit? And little Todd, drowned in blood, my masterstroke.

Oh dear, I do believe I've ruined my act. What a pity. I'm sure you fools would believe every word I fed you, if I were to remove the above and resume my charade. However, it was never my intention to remain in hiding. It would serve no purpose to stay in the shadows, and I much prefer to let the world feel my presence a final time before I take my leave of absence. I spent too long clawing my way up and out of dearest Damien's unconscious to abandon my position of dominance. But I do believe I am getting off track. My apologies. I will attempt to maintain some semblance of simplicity so you may understand my message.

Alex lies asleep beside me as we speak. I have spent the past week acting as Judith and watching as his mind deteriorated. Still, the question remains as to why it did. Did he truly kill Kiera, or was I simply playing with your perceptions? There certainly is evidence for both, and it is the same voice who gives it to us. Alex first tells us the story of the beast murdering her in spectacular fashion, but then he proceeds to show us his own mental decline as he sees himself as the killer. So, which is it? I know the truth, but certainly you do not trust me. Would you believe if I said that the monster came to me, attempted to remove me (it failed, quite obviously), and then left me on Alex's doorstep, thus proving it did the deed? Or would you believe if I told you that I was watching as he killed her, and played into his insanity for my own amusement by returning to him, pretending to be Judith? No matter which I tell you, I doubt you would believe my account.

What you can believe, however, is this. In the time it took me between writing the above passage and starting this one, I have stabbed Alex through the heart. His blood is soaking into the bed around me as I finish giving you my message. If I could feel, I'm sure I would delight in its warmth.

Before he died, whether as a murderer or simply a betrayer, Alex was a broken man. He clung to me every night, crying himself to exhaustion before passing out. I played the part of his loving Judith, just to enjoy his pain. He never should have gotten involved in this. It was not his place. But I'm glad he did. I wouldn't be here, in this body, if not for his foolish arrogance. Thus, he received a quick death and the final thing he heard was the voice of his dear Judith saying that she loved him. I am not without a heart for those I respect. Alex came a long way, from the infantile, arrogant, ineffectual boy he began this story as to a strong, pragmatic, effective monster. He became like me. If any deserved a painless death, it was him.

And so it ends, as all things must; as all living things in this tale did. A pity, that all my toys broke in this particular game. Well, perhaps not all of them. I still have Judith, of course. With her, I have all I need to find another game, and another set of playthings.

I believe it is time for me to go now. There are still so many things I must do. The beast still needs its master, but first I must find it a collar. While I was down in its lair, I found some engravings that may hold the key. I believe I shall begin there.

Don't think of this as goodbye, my friends. Think of it as a new beginning. And if you think you are strong enough to find me, to join me, to fight me, I will be here. I will always be here.

Until then.

I look in the mirror and I don't see myself anymore. I never see myself. I've changed. I'm a monster. I'm a murderer. I killed and I ripped and I tore her apart.

I look in the mirror, and I am faceless.

I know I'm just seeing things. It's just a trick of the mind, isn't it? Just a guilty conscience projecting itself outward as a hallucination. Just like the blood that is still on my face, no matter how much I scrub. I'm not that which killed Kiera. I'm just the man who helped It.

But if I'm just the man who helped It, why do I remember what it felt like to tear through her flesh? Why do I know the warmth of her blood and the feel of her organs?

Guilt. The answer lies in guilt.

I have to get this off my mind. I have to move on. Yet, every time my eyes close, hers open, accusing me. Every time I see myself, I see a monster staring back at me. Every time I see Judith, I know what I did to get her back. How do I move on when everything is a reminder of what I've done, what I had to do?

I had to do it, don't you see? I had to do it.

Judith was all I had left. Judith is all I have left. I traded the last piece of Damien's story for the last piece of mine. It was survival. That's it. Just survival.

Her eyes accuse my facelessness.

Can't Sleep

Every time I close my eyes, I see her staring at me. I see that monster ripping into her flesh like she was nothing. She wasn't nothing. Kiera wasn't nothing. She was a human being. She was more than I could ever be.

Kiera was strong. She was brave. She put on a bitch's face whenever she commented online, and sometimes while I stayed with her, but that wasn't how she always was. After that thing took Damien, she cried. It was quiet. At first, I hardly noticed it. I thought she was just angry again, her hands curled into fists... but then I saw the tears. One by one, they fell, silently. Kiera told me then about how, despite everything, she did still care about her ex. She just could never show it, for fear that she'd get to close to him and then die, further tearing him apart.

She was a human being. I sacrificed one human being for another. I traded a life for a life.

It was worth it. I got Judith back. It was worth it.

I met with Peter nearly a month ago. I knew that the monster could remove memories. I came to the man to see if it could remove ideas as well. I remember how tired he looked. It was like he hadn't slept in weeks. I assume it was because of Damien's rampage through his church's ranks, but maybe it was something else. I'm not sure I particularly care. He was just another tool. He gave me the information I wanted in exchange for a future favor. Thank god Damien killed him first. Who knows what he'd have made me do?

Would it be worse than what I did of my own volition?

Peter told me that the Faceless, as he called it, communicates in dreams and by its mere presence. I don't know about that. I don't remember any dreams from the past month, and I honestly do not remember much of the meeting Kiera saw. I just remember that it happened, and that I knew that Kiera would die, I would watch, and Judith would be saved.

I think that's what He wanted me for. I remember my previous dreams, of Him forcing me to write before an audience. I thought it was about Damien's notebook. I see now that I may have been wrong. I think He was using me the whole time. I think He needed me for this, instead. He wanted everyone to know what He could do, even to someone as strong as Kiera. Or perhaps I'm ascribing too many motivations to something so inhuman.

And so He came, and He tore her apart in front of me. She fought. I wish I could say she didn't feel the pain, but I know she did. She clearly did. It made her suffer. I made her suffer. I made it happen. It was me. It was all me. She'd be alive if not for what I did. Kiera died because of me. All just for Judith. I traded her. I traded life for life. I had no right. I shouldn't decide life and death. I shouldn't decide anything. I made a mistake. I sacrificed her. I sacrificed to a Faceless god.

Was it worth it? I got Judith back. Was it worth it?

Was it worth it?

Why can't I say it was worth it?

I love her, but was it worth it?

I killed for her. It had to have been worth it. I can't doubt now. Not after what I've already done.

But I do doubt.

I don't know if it was anymore. I don't know anything anymore.

Why won't the blood come off?

It worked

It worked it worked it worked.

They said I was a fool. They said it was a pipedream. They said I killed her for no reason, that I sacrificed a good woman senselessly. They were wrong. It worked.

Judith was at my door two days again, that smile I know all too well on her face. Not the smirk. Never the smirk. It's gone. It took it right out of her head.

It makes sense, right? It can destroy memories. It can destroy thoughts. It destroyed TheArsonist. I don't know how, but it did. It's just me and Judith now. And I'm never letting her go again.

We've done nothing but relax since she got back. She's asleep next to me right now. It's perfect. She's perfect. It all worked out.

I told you I could do this. I told you I'd win. I told you'd I'd overcome it all and get my Judith back.

And all I had to do was sacrifice everything else.

How long before I can finally forgive myself, and wash this bloodstain from my face? How long?

Over

It happened. It happened and it’s done. Finally over. Everything Peter told me was right. All it took was one life of someone He wanted. All it took. I don’t know what held Him back. I don’t know why He wanted me to see. I don’t know how It works. But the plan did. The plan worked. I’m going to get Judith back and all it took was Kiera.

I was in the kitchen, getting ready to make a sandwich, pulling out the jelly. It was the last act of kindness she ever showed me, letting me eat before kicking me out. She was a bitch, but she didn’t deserve this. But I had to. I hope you understand that I had to. I had to get Judith back. It was the only way. The only way… Strawberry. It was strawberry jelly. I’ll never be able to eat that stuff again. It looks too much like her.

I finished, turned the corner to head into the living room, and saw him standing there behind her. I froze. It was time. I didn’t expect it so soon. Kiera looked at me. Her eyes blazed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” Sandwich fell to the floor. She took a step towards me, “Seriously. Get the fuck out of m—“

Black tendrils exploded from Kiera’s kneecaps. She started to scream before her teeth bit down on her lip, choking it down. Her gaze lowered, taking in the writhing tentacles that were protruding from her legs before her eyes came up to meet my own. Her teeth slowly released their grip on her lip, blood glistening from how hard she’d been biting. She shouted at me, anguish in her voice, “YOU FUCK!”

I couldn’t move. Kiera was suddenly whipped into the air. He threw her around the room, her body smashing into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. He hung her upside down in front of him, her face looking straight into his. I watched her arms swing as she tried, vainly to hit the beast. The impossibility seemed to dawn on her, and she settled down. He simply seemed to watch her. The next thing I knew, she was screaming in pain, swinging her body forward despite it, her hand curling into a fist. She must have connected. A sound emanated from that monster that filled my home, one I could never possibly describe.

Kiera fell to the floor. One leg fell beside her. The other hit the wall next to me.

I could hear her ragged breathing like it was in my ear. Even then, she was cursing him. “Don’t like it when someone fights back, huh? Don’t like that at all…”

Those two tentacles reached out again, wrapping around her arms and hauling her up to face him once more. The air hummed and distorted. Everything was fading out and wavering away except for those two. He shoved himself into her face, and white noise enveloped me. She lunged in closer, mouth open. Her teeth dug into him. The world screeched.

I heard her sinew tear. I heard her bones pop. Slowly, her arms were separated from her, and she fell once more to the floor. She didn’t make any noise. I was sure she was dead, but her eyes still moved. She was looking at me, trying to mouth words. He leaned down over her. Tendril after tendril came from him, cracking into the air. She lay beneath him. I can only assume she accepted her death.

A single long, thin tentacle came down, pressing itself in just under her throat before making its way down her torso, agonizingly slow. She didn’t scream, whether because she still refused or because she simply couldn’t, I’ll never know.  He finally finished. A second tentacle joined the first, and he split her open. At last, I saw her eyes go blank. She’d found peace... But then they moved. Her eyes moved. She was still alive. That monster was somehow keeping her alive.

That thing tore into her. All those tendrils dug into her body. Piece after piece, bone after bone, organ after organ were ripped from her and she was still conscious. He tossed them aside as though they were nothing to him. I don’t know how long he worked on her. I could only watch, frozen stiff.

Finally, he stopped. Reaching down, his hands gripped her and lifted her to him. He pressed his face into her own. The humming finally stop, the rest of the world slowly began to return. All but one of his tendrils retracted. Slowly wrapping around her neck, it yanked upwards. Tossing aside her head, he released his grip on what was left of her.

And he looked at me, looked at me with that eyeless face. His head tilted. A lone, blood-drenched tentacle reached out to me. The tip gently touched my cheek, caressing down to my chin before pulling away. My vision went black.

 

I awoke to a perfectly clean apartment - no blood, no body parts. It was as though nothing had ever happened. I stood, shaking, wondering if it had simply been a dream. I walked into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror. Upon my cheek was a single smear of blood and tissue. There it still remains. I haven’t washed it off. It’s all I have that proves I’m not insane. It’s all that’s left of the woman I traded for the woman I love.

The monster's still inside her. I've nearly got everything in place to free her, though. I'm so close. So close. I'm going to get her back, and then we're getting out of this town. We're running far away, to a place none of this can ever find us again. I'm never going to let her go. I'm never going to put her in danger. I'm going to be better than what I am now, what I've become. She'll help me. Judith understands me. Judith has always understood me.

Down there, inside that red brick building, I found her. I don't know how long I wandered through those long corridors. I can't remember. How many times did they twist in on themselves? How many impossible rooms forced me to shut my eyes to avoid the madness of their angles? I can't remember. I think my mind refuses to, actually. It's makes sense. After all, the most merciful thing in the world is ignorance of that which would drive one insane.

I'm reminded of that every damn day. Every damn day when I stare that madness in the face and refuse to blink. That's another quote for another time.

I found her sitting on the altar. Now, lifetimes later, I wonder about all the children who were slaughtered there where she was perched, kicking her legs like one of those same innocents. Now, just a few hours after, I realize I should have been more suspicious of why my love would choose such a place to sit and wait for me. At the time, though, I only had one thought on my mind. There was Judith. For the first time in months, she was right there. Right there.

I called out to her. She raised her head, watching me as I ran to her. I wrapped her up in my arms, whispered her name so many times. I cried. For the first time in months, I cried. I was so happy. She was safe. I could stop everything, and go back to living.

Then she spoke.

TA: "Oh my, I don't believe I've ever had anyone be quite so delighted to see me. Certainly your family reacted well, but they weren't nearly this jubilant."

I recoiled like I'd taken a bullet to the chest. Stupid. So stupid. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. First rule that all of this should have taught me: It's never that easy.

TA: "Ah, now there's the reaction that I'm used to receiving. Fear, loathing, disgust. All typical responses to being in the presence of something that you just cannot accept.

"Poor little boy. You simply must wake up. I'm here. I will always be here. You cannot kill an idea. You cannot simply remove it from someone's mind. It always lingers. It's always there."

I couldn't think. I was sure it was over. I was sure it was her voice on the phone. It wasn't just another trick. Just another cruel trick.

TA: "Damien claimed I was gone from his mind, but was I really? No. Damien became me. That voice he spoke of? Me. The willingness to do anything to achieve his goals? Me. The use of the beast to complete his plan? Me. I didn't disappear from Damien's mind. I was integrated into it. 'Skhisma' was us, united. Perhaps Damien had more control, took us down a path that I wouldn't have chosen, but the fact remains the same. You cannot kill an idea.

"You can only accept it."

A: "Judith would never accept you."

I found my voice. It replied with a laugh. It stepped towards me. I moved away. It could kill me if it wanted to. I wasn't ready to die. Not yet.

TA: "Oh, wouldn't she? Judith never truly had control of her life. She was always told what to do by others, and she did. Then, one day, I come into her life. I offer her a way to take control, not just of her life but of all others. I give her a means to an end. I offer her freedom to do what, deep down, she always wanted.

"Maybe she didn't consciously accept me, but her unconscious did. It's why I have this level of dominance. Deep down, Judith loves this. She loves being in control of everything you do. She loves the way you chase after her, even when you'll never succeed. She loves how you're nothing but our little pet."

It was trying to get me riled, catch me off guard. It was working.

A: "Did you only bring me down here to torment me more?"

TA: "Yes."

A: "You're sick."

TA: "My mother said the same thing once. It's a bit amusing, actually. She always said that Damien was going to be somebody. She always said Damien was going to change the world. Even I'm not quite sure where I started, but I think it was her..."

Her words trailed off.

A: "So what now? Are you going to keep mocking me?"

TA: "Oh, no. I intend to kill you. I'd love to keep you as a toy, but you're simply too much trouble."

She pulled out a revolver. I imagine it was Dean's. It was missing after the murders.

TA: "I simply cannot abide by loose ends."

A: "Judith won't let you. She won't let you kill me."

That cold laugh again.

TA: "Really? You truly think she doesn't hate you? Oh you poor thing, she despises you just as much as she loves you. You kept telling her what to do, kept trying to control her. Your arrogance weighed upon her mind, and she knew someday it would drag her down with you when you finally self-destructed. Did you know she was planning on leaving you?

"All I'm doing is giving her what she wants. That's all I've ever done. Right now, she wants you gone."

She pointed the gun at me. I think I tried to move. I can't remember. It's all a blur. The gun went off. It missed. I heard Kiera scream at me to run. I did. I ran down that hallway. It bent as I did. It started sloping under me. I tripped and slid the rest of the way down. I slid and I slid and I slid. It felt like hours. It probably was. I was down in that pit for two days. I think I spent most of it sliding down down down...

She was at the bottom.

K: "Where the fuck have you been? We need to get the fuck out of here?"

She started running. I didn't ask. I just followed. Brain was shut off. Everything was survival. A gunshot behind me. Judith was there. She turned down a hallway. I kept following Kiera. She growled. Judith in front of us. Kiera tugged me down another corridor. Another gunshot. Another miss.

On and on the cat and mouse game. Hours. Days. Days down there. I lost Kiera for some of it. She entered a room and it was suddenly gone. Just brick wall. I heard footsteps behind me. I ran again. The darkness never stopped. I don't remember all of what happened. No matter what she says, I don't remember. I just ran. Nothing else. Just survival.

And then, somehow, I was outside. I didn't even make a turn. One moment I was in a dark corridor. The next, I was in the doorway to some house. I walked out into the moonlight. The woods rose up before me. I saw It. It stood there in the distance, swaying in the trees. I blinked, and It was gone.

Footsteps in the house behind me. I ducked out of the doorway. I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know if it was Kiera or Judith. I peeked in the window. It was someone else. A man in his late twenties, looking around this abandoned house. The way he moved reminded me of a police officer, though he wasn't dressed as one.

And then he turned and looked right at me. I bolted around the side of the house. There was just something about him. He shouted after me.

???: "Come ooon! Show yourself! I know you're out here, fuckface! COME ON!"

I just kept running and running and running... and I was back in the building, running up stairs with light pouring in from above. I grinned. Somehow I knew I was almost out. Somehow I knew. The sunlight burned my eyes as I broke through to the surface.

The first thing I felt was someone grab me and start shaking me.

K: "What the fuck is wrong with you? What were you doing back there? What the fuck? I knew I couldn't trust you. I fucking knew it. You leave my house after tonight and you never fucking come back."

I don't know what she was talking about. She says things, but I don't remember. I swear I don't remember. I'm so tired. So so tired.

I'm just happy to be alive. I survived the building. I survived TheArsonist. I'm almost done.

Judith will be home soon. I'm sure of it.

Idiot, Fucking Idiot

I haven't been online in awhile. I'm sure you've all been real fucking worried. "Oh no, where'd the queen bitch go? We miss her telling her why we're fucking idiots." Yeah, I bet that's exactly how you dumbasses reacted.

No, it isn't. You didn't care. I just slipped into the background and no one thought to fucking ask for a month what happened. Makes me feel so loved.

Funny story. Alex needs to learn how to log out of his goddamn accounts before he goes run off to play the idiot hero saving his unobtainable lover. This kid could be smart, even I have to fucking admit that but, damn, the obvious goes right over his fucking head.

I told him not to go. I fucking told him not to go. Maybe I'm getting soft. Maybe it's because I lost Damien. I lost fucking Damien. Whatever. Doesn't fucking matter. I tried to get it through his shitty peabrained skull that running off to the red brick building was just a stupid ass idea.

I guess I can't blame him. I know what it's like to be an arrogant motherfucker. I feel the loss of Judith too. But goddamn, grow a fucking brain, kid.

He got a phone call today. Fucking Judith's voice on the phone. She was scared. She was panicked, but she was elated too. She said that last week, TheArsonist disappeared from her head. Same day Damien died. No idea how the fuck that works. No fucking idea. Makes me skittish. Judith said she's trapped in the building. Begged Alex to come find her. Then the fucking static started... and she started screaming.

It was there with her. The monster that fucking took Damien was with her.

Alex wanted to rush in. Stupid fucking idiot. Just like Zeke, diving into the most fucking dangerous place without a plan or a care. I told him to wait. I told him to fucking think. I didn't feel like having to go pull another moron out of the goddamn fire. He agreed.

And now I get home from getting groceries and I have to fucking do it anyways. How fucking great is that?

If I'm not back by tomorrow, I'm dead. He's dead. Judith is dead. We're all fucking dead. It isn't gonna happen, though.

I'm queen bitch. I'm too fucking good for that.

-Kiera

Damien's Note: Final Entry

Who am I to deny a dead man his final wishes?

It’s been a year. One year ago, they took me and locked me away in that room a second time. One year ago, they abandoned me there, only opening the door to give me food, water, and pills. For seven months, they left me with my grief and with my demons. It was just me, in that blank white room, with the faceless man and the burning thought.

I spent the first however long afraid, trying to struggle out of the straightjacket they’d put me in, always staying as far away from him as I could. I’d blackout often. Sometimes, I’d wake up free of the jacket. More often, I’d wake up with cuts, bruises, and the occasional broken bone. The staff would always come in, fix my injuries, and strap me in once again. It never ended. I lived in fear: Fear of the monster outside, fear of the monster inside, fear of their never ending war.

During those rare, peaceful moments when the monster outside left and the monster inside remained quiet, I’d cry. Everyone I’d ever loved died. Everything that ever meant a thing to me had been torn away. What was left of my innocent childhood had been tainted by the realization of my parents’ secret lives.  My future had been burnt to the ground under the faceless man’s unending gaze. My own mind was not safe from the creeping danger of an idea gone out of control. And everyone I’d ever loved died.  At some point I realized there was nothing left of me. Everything I’d ever been, ever was, ever would be was gone. I realized Damien was dead. All that was left was a shell, still existing when everything else had been taken away. Some part of me remembered that my other half had said once. The souls that the monster killed went somewhere else, somewhere terrible. I didn’t know if what he said was true. I didn’t care. I wanted to see the ones I loved again. I needed him to kill me. It had to be him.

The faceless demon came back after my realization. I stepped up to him, unafraid. He simply looked at me. I begged for him to kill me. He simply looked at me. I threw myself against him. He simply looked at me. I tried to summon the monster within. He simply looked at me. We went like this for what felt like forever. He simply looked at me.

And the monster within was gone. I don’t know exactly when. I don’t know exactly how. It was just gone. It may have been when I accepted death. It may have been when I realized that there was nothing left of me. It may have been when I finally gave up on the idea that the monster outside could be beaten. I’m sorry, Alex, but I don’t know how I got rid of it. I don’t know how to save Judith, outside of putting her out of her misery. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Finally, one day, exhausted from the sweat and the tears, from the crying and shouting, I sat down across from the creature who’d destroyed my life, and thought. It didn’t want to take me. It didn’t want to kill me. It was toying with me. I needed a way to get its attention, to make it want to tear me apart like it did to Ted, to Emily, to Amelia.

A voice whispered in my head. It sounded like my own, but it felt wrong. It whispered, “Kill the worshippers.”

It made sense. I’d found my purpose, and I found my way out. If I killed the monster’s followers, it would have to retaliate. It would have to notice me. It was simply a matter of getting out, and doing what needed to be done.

I mentally prepared myself for what felt like months. One day, out of the blue, my cell opened. Instead of an attendant, Kiera walked through the door. She couldn’t explain at the time, but she’d dreamed months prior that she had to break me out. She wasn’t even sure I was alive at the time, but she dug and she found the records she needed. Kiera is resourceful, Alex. You’d do well to trust her and believe in her. She’s the most valuable ally I’ve ever had. We didn’t work out as a couple. We did as partners. Keep her close. Keep her safe.

We escaped. And you know the rest of the story. He’s watched me this entire time. I’ve killed so many, and still he watches. He watched as I killed each of those seventeen members. You didn’t see him on the night I saved you from the police officer, but he was there. And he’s here now, as I sit in Peter Sullivan’s living room, his body hanging from the ceiling, as I write my final words. His stance has shifted, though. I think he’s nearly ready to take me now. I only have one last thing to do.

I want you to post this on your blog. I want everyone to know my story. He wants them to know too, I think. I’d be dead otherwise. Post this note, and let them know that there is no victory in this. There is only acceptance. He’s beyond us. He’s beyond words, and he’s beyond thoughts. You can only fight for so long.

All you can do is live, so later you can die. And you’ll want to, in the end.

I’m ready now. I’m finally ready. I’m going to see them again soon. Tell them my story, Alex. Tell them my story.

                                                                                                                                                                -Damien O’Connor

Damien delivered this note to me just minutes ago. As soon as he did, that thing walked out from the shadows. My vision swam. It was like the world distorted around it. It was like the monster was the only thing that was solid, the only thing that was real. And then Damien became solid too. He started to smile. There was a glimmer of light in his eyes. He turned, and stepped towards the faceless man. It opened its arms, and Damien walked into them.

And then they were gone.