He's killing me slowly

I'm not okay.

Everyone I care about is gone.  And it's...everything has been getting worse.  I eat once a day, and barely.  I just can't work up an appetite.  My nightmares have been getting worse, and it's been hard to sleep because of it.  I'm starting to see things and hear things and then when I blink they're not there or I'm realize that there's nothing to hear.  I think I might be losing it some.

It's been bad for a while.  Worse than I've let on.  The nightmares have been almost nightly for months, even when things were going better.  But pills have helped some.  Sleeping pills.  Antidepressants.  Painkillers.  But they've been working less and less now that I've been getting worse and worse, so I've been taking more.  More potent stuff more frequently in higher doses.

I've been drinking more too.  It helps.  Helps me forget for a bit.  Makes things easier.  I drink too much, I think.  Never been a drinker.  Body's still not used to it.  Hangovers mean more pills.  Sometimes the pills and alcohol don't mix.  Zombie's had to bail me out twice now.  Twice that I almost died.

I sat at the table with a knife against my wrist for half an hour today.  Not doing anything.  Just staring at it.  I wanted to finish it.  But I couldn't.  I don't know if I'm clinging to something for some reason or if I'm just too much of a coward to finish it.  Or even if he won't let me.  But I just sat there.  Half an hour.  And then I broke down crying.  Dropped the knife, collapsed to the floor and just started sobbing.  Cried myself to sleep.  Had a dream where Screwtape was beating Poe and then he looked up and it wasn't Screwtape's face.  It was mine.  Woke up.  Checked the clock.  I slept for half an hour at most.

I can't take this anymore.

You sicken me.

Weak, self-serving assholes, all of you.  I'm self-serving, yes, but I've always at least served the people I care about, and made no pretenses otherwise.  To the rest of you, I bore no grudge.  It was business, and you just happened to be outside my monkeysphere.  Nothing personal.  I protected my own, but I wasn't about to take the weight of the world on my shoulders, either.

But you.  All of you.  You're vicious beasts masquerading as a group of heroes.  The world has its antiheroes, yes, but they tend to be pricks.  And a world full of antiheroes is a disgusting one.  You know why Robert never found his Hero?  You know, that crazy idealistic man who thought that he was in a fairy tale and that The Boss could be killed if a knight in shining armor swooped in on its charger and saved the day?  Assuming the theory Robert based his own upon was correct, it was actually pretty clever.  But it never would have worked.  Do you know why?

Because you are all scum.  Not a single one of you is a hero.  None of you are genuinely good people.  You're all selfish bastards, weaklings who cower in the corner, know-it-alls who don't know shit, or idiots who refuse to grow up and realize that your life is not some action movie you're starring in.  You're willing to help your friends at the expense of others.  You think that, just because something's trying to kill you, that gives you free reign to stop being a person.  I knew one genuinely good runner.  Donovan may have been a prejudiced ass when it came to my side, but at least he tried to actually care in a way that mattered.  And you know what he did?  He tried playing a hero.  He tried pretending to be a hero instead of actually being one, and it shamed him so much that he couldn't stand to face anyone anymore.  Donovan died long before Screwtape killed him.

Same thing happened to Zero.  He tried pretending to be a hero.  And you know what happened?  He became a fucking villain.  None of you are hero material, and in the end, it's not even going to matter anyway.  Robert's theory was fucking stupid, because this isn't Lord of the Rings.

But back on topic.  None of you are heroes because you're disgusting human beings.  You claim to be the "good guys."  Maybe you are.  But you're not really good.  Look around you.  We're not divided into two sides.  We're not even divided into three.  We're divided into the side I'm on, and a bunch of small little guerrilla factions.  You runners fight among yourselves constantly.  Sure, you might work together at times, but the enemy of your enemy is not automatically your friend.  That's a logical fallacy.

I'm not going to say that we're the good guys.  Because we're not.  Let's face it, we're the side with most (but not all) of the psychopaths, the crazies, the murderers.  You don't have to be crazy to work here, but you will be by the time you retire.  And we're not even one big, happy family.  There's a lot of fighting between us.  I'm pretty sure that I've proved that plenty just on my own blog.  But you know what?  We're stronger than you, because we have a leader, and we don't fucking question his authority.  We have a sense of comradery.  We might hate each other, but we're stuck with each other.  We're a family.  A dysfunctional one, but chances are, we're more likely to target a runner we respect than another proxy that we hate.  When we break that unspoken law, there are consequences.

Who holds you accountable?  No one.  You know nothing about comradery.  You think you do, but you're confusing it with friendship.  You argue with each other, disrespect each other, sell each other out to protect yourselves and your friends.  You're a side divided.

So go on.  Play at being heroes.  See what good it does you.  When it fails, I'll be here to write your name down and put it on my list.

Redemption

It's funny, really.  Most of the time when I see a runner referring to someone on our side, it's in one of two contexts, depending on who's saying it and about whom.

Either we're soulless monsters who deserve to die
or we're good at heart and just need to be shown the light and brought back to the "right side."

I'm sick of your bullshit.  What makes you think that we need to be "redeemed?"  What makes you think we're on the wrong side?  Are you all so fucking presumptuous that you think you can preach right and wrong?  If you're perfect, go ahead and let me know.  I'd love to see it.  Never broken a law?  Never hurt someone else?  Never had a selfish motive?  Go ahead, raise your hand.

No?  No one?

See?  None of you are good people.  So what gives you the right to act like you're better than us?  You're not angels, so why do you get to call us demons?  Who are you to judge good and evil?  What do you call "evil?"  Killing someone?  Have any of you ever killed someone under any circumstance?  I know some of you have.  Maybe it was out of anger.  Maybe it was out of self-defense.  Maybe it was even accidental.  Well I haven't.  I've never killed someone.  Does that mean that I'm better than you?  Am I better than Zombie, a kid who does terrible things because of someone he loves?  Really, I did the same thing.  My crimes are just less severe.  Is he a better person because he's willing to put himself through more, or a worse person because he agrees to put himself through more?

Am I a good person?  Am I a bad person?  I'm neither.  I'm a person.  You're all just people.  You're not good and you're not bad, so don't fucking act like it.  Don't treat me like some amazing person for enlightening you to our situation.  Don't treat me like a villain for being the selfish bastard I am.  I'm not a martyr, and I'm not the devil.  Stop acting like I'm either.

What the fuck gives you the right to say that any of us need redemption?  Maybe we're right?  Have you ever thought about that?  Maybe we're the ones who are right.  Maybe The Boss isn't such a bad guy.  Maybe he's after you because you're a bad person.  Maybe he's after you because you decided to go after him.  Maybe he's not even trying to do anything, and any insanity you suffer is born through your own paranoia or through preexisting conditions.  After all, he sure seems to do a lot of standing around just watching you.  Maybe, just maybe, you're the ones who are wrong.

But maybe you're not.

Maybe I am the bad guy here.  Maybe you are better than me.  But are you sure?  Are you sure that your way is the right way?  That it's the only way?  That I'm wrong enough that you need to save me from myself?  That everything will be okay if I just turn away?  No.  I don't try to convert you to the First Church of Slenderology, so why the fuck are you trying to convert me like not working for The Boss is some sort of religion?  Hail Mary and Eternal Salvation and My Soul Needs Saving?

Fuck no.  Leave us the fuck alone.  You do just as much to us as we do to you.

We're all messed up people.  Don't act like you're not messed up because you acknowledge the existence of some all-powerful identity whose motives you can't fathom and you've decided to arbitrarily decide that he's evil instead of neutral or good.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-

Moment of Decision

I've done some thinking after Kyle's death.  I know that this is a crucial time.  Kyle was basically my only reason for being here.  All the people I care about who need me here?  They're all dead.  Gone.

I really have no reason to be here.

And I know what you're wondering.  You're wondering what I'm going to do now that my only reasons for being here have vanished.  Honestly, if I wanted to, I could take off and go on the run right this second.

But I'm staying.

I know.  Maybe not what you expected.  But I've been evaluating my options the past few days.  Kyle's gone.  Maybe the car crash was just an accident.  Maybe The Boss went back on his word and he's fully responsible for it.  But in the end, it doesn't really matter.  Kyle's dead, and the choice I make won't bring him back.  It's my choice, and his death shouldn't have an impact on it.

I'm involved with The Boss now, whether I like it or not.  I could run, yes.  But where would that get me?  I've said from day one that the position I'm in is safer.  Am I a selfish bastard because of it?  Maybe.  But nothing's stopping you from making the same choice.

I could run.  I could try to escape him.  I could take my chances.  Maybe I'd be running into the open arms of a welcoming family of bloggers.  But you know what?  I don't want that.  To be perfectly honest, I don't much care for any of you.  I'm in this for me, not for you.  I can shoulder my own burden.  I don't want you to shoulder it for me, because I know that you'd expect the same of me.  I don't want any of you dragging me down.  I don't want that obligation.  I don't want to have to shelter you and risk you bringing The Boss to my doorstep.  I don't want to donate funds or equipment to someone who might end up dying tomorrow.  And I sure as hell don't want charity from you.

So that's the answer.  That's my decision.  I'm staying.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-

Just got the news

Kyle's dead.

I just got the call.  My mother filled me on on what she knew.  He and some of his friends were working on a video series about The Boss.  I've talked about this before, a long time ago.  They wanted to get most of it done before they released it, because they had to learn video editing and whatnot, and they wanted to make sure it was good.  It was...they were filming the last bits of footage they needed when it happened.

Kyle and three of his friends were in a vehicle together.  There was...there was an accident.  No one survived.

He's dead.  Gone.  The brother I was protecting by getting involved in all of this in the first place.

Hyde is dead.
Caper is dead.
Schrödinger is dead.
Donovan is dead.
Rachael is dead.
Poe is dead.

And now Kyle is dead.

Everyone around me.  Everyone I cared about.  They're all dead.  All within a year.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-

Reports: Elaine and Mitch

Two reports that went up recently.  Mitch of 11 Minutes to Midnight and Elaine of Take the Myth.  Also one of ours called Angmar died, but I guess he's not important, huh?

That's not just me ranting.  No one found him particularly important.  And nobody thinks too highly of the memories of people who kidnap kids.

So what can I say about these ex-ladies?  Both were...fairly assertive personalities, I guess you could say.  Both died in pieces small enough that cremation is about the only option (And Elaine's halfway there already, though I guess she might end up accidentally getting a little Angmar in her urn if that's what whoever disposes of her body decides to go with).  The former went out with a whimper while the latter opted for a bang, but both were violent, gory deaths.

I don't know.  What do you want me to say?  I didn't really know either of them.  Two more names for the list.

I need to update that list.  Can't really find the desire to, though.  So much to do.  So many people dying.

I don't know how much longer I can keep all this up.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-

Picking up the Pieces

It's been a few days now.  A few days since the woman I loved ceased to be.  Her body may still function.  But Annabel?  Poe?  Whoever she ultimately was?  She's gone.  I have to face the fact that she's never coming back.

I killed her.

It's all my fault.

And now I have to give up.  Eddie's told me there's no hope for her anymore.  And I don't want to believe him.  But this is his job, and he's been around for longer than I have.  I have to trust his word on this.  So I've written up a eulogy for her and posted it to her blog.

I never cried.

Not once.

I don't think I have tears to cry anymore.  I killed them long ago.  I just feel dead inside.  Even more dead than usual now.

When Caper died, the two of us spent the night drinking together.

She's gone, and I spent the night drinking alone.

And the day.

And the next night.

You get the picture.

Nee-chan came by to try to cheer me up.  I didn't let her in.  She's all I really have left here but I didn't let her in.

So I have to forget her.  I have to forget that I killed her so that I can stand to live with myself.

It's time to move on.




Elaine's dead.  I have a report to write.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-

Everything is falling apart

When I woke up this morning, I checked all the things I normally check online, including the blogs I follow.

This was waiting for me.

I went to check on Annabel and she was just sitting on her bed, completely unresponsive.  She didn't respond to her name.  I tried using Poe's name and she didn't respond to that either.  So I called Zombie.  I brought him in and had him look at her to try to fix whatever was wrong.  And he took a few minutes and then looked at me.  He looked defeated.

Z: I'm sorry, Messenger.  She's gone.

M: What do you mean, "she's gone?"  She's fine.  She's going to recover.  She recovered before, when Screwtape sent us Donovan's head.  This isn't anywhere near as bad as that.

Z: It's not the same thing.  It was a completely different reaction that time.  She showed a lot of signs of an acute stress reaction.  Shock.  This is something different.  I'm not sure what's going on exactly, but I don't think she's coming back from this one.

M: You're a doctor!  You're supposed to know what's happening!

Z: I was studying to be a doctor, yes.  But not a psychiatrist.  I know how to mend bodies, not minds.

M: So you're just going to give up?  Help her!  Help her, dammit!

Z: Messenger--

M: Do something!  Fucking help her!

[I kind of lost my head for a moment.  I grabbed his shirt and jerked him around before he broke free of my grip.]

Z: Messenger!  Listen to me!  I can't do anything!  I've seen what they're like when they're like this.  It's too late for her.  I'm really sorry.  Believe me, I am.  But you're just going to have to accept that she's gone.  [He sighed and shook his head, and in that moment I noticed just how hard this was hitting him as well.]  I'm calling Eddie.  I'm sorry, Messenger.  There's nothing we can do now.

[He gave Eddie a call then.  Sat at the table afterwards, eyes closed, not doing anything.  Thinking, probably.  I sat with Annabel and held her.  She didn't even seem to notice I was there.  She was shaking slightly.  Skin was a little clammy.  All I could think of was how I couldn't lose her.  I still don't think I'll lose her, but I have enough clarity now to admit that I might be in denial.  Anyway, after a while, Eddie showed up.  Zombie let him in and showed him to her room.]

E: I'll take it from here, Messenger.  Go.

M: Eddie...look, I'm sorry....

E: I said go!  This is in my hands now, and I want you out of here.

M: Let me help somehow!

E: You want to help?  Then leave!  This happened because you tried helping!  I told you there would be consequences, Messenger.  And now we're all feeling them.  And Poe?  She's feeling them the hardest.

M: Annabel....

E: She's not Annabel anymore!  She's not even Poe anymore!  Don't you get it, Messenger?  You tampered in places you shouldn't have, and now, the closest thing she'll have to an identity is a designation number.

M: I'll...I'll come by to visit her.  Every day.  Anything to help.

E: No, Messenger, you won't, because you're not welcome anymore.





And he took her.  He took Annabel.  He took Poe.

And now I'm never allowed to see her again.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-

Eddie's Confrontation

I've been really busy lately spending time with Annabel and trying to help her through all this.  It's difficult for her to remember things sometimes, and struggling to do so sometimes leaves her exhausted, so I've been sticking around and keeping an eye on her.  Through all that, I've kind of neglected to visit Eddie and the Husks.  I decided to change that yesterday.  It was maybe a bad idea.

Eddie looked up at me as I entered.

E: Messenger!  I've been wanting to talk to you.

M: Well, I'm here now.

E: Yeah.  Look, Messenger--what the hell?

M: I know, I know, I'm sorry I haven't been here lately, but--

E: That's not what this is about.  This is about Poe.

M: Annabel.

E: Poe.  You'd be better off leaving her as Poe, Messenger, trust me.  Do you have any clue what the hell you're doing?

M: She wants to be called Annabel, Eddie.  And yes, I know what I'm doing.  I'm bringing her back to how she used to be.

E: [He gave an exasperated sigh.]  Messenger, no offense to you.  I respect what you've done and what you're trying to do.  But you're also the most thickheaded dumbass I've ever met.  This isn't what she needs.  It isn't what she wants.

M: She was the one who asked for it, not me.

E: Yes, but you pushed her and guided her towards it.  And now, you're going to end up destroying her.  I saw her latest post, Messenger.

M: So?  If anything, it just shows how much progress she's made.

E: She's slipping, Messenger.  Things are slipping through her fingers.  Things she should know.  She's confusing herself, and it's not healthy.

M: No offense, Eddie, but I know what I'm doing.

E:  Messenger, you may have been spending time around her, but you don't know her worth shit.  Donovan knew Annabel.  He spent time around her and got to know her.  Caper knew Poe.  He's the one who helped her forge that identity in the first place.  Hell, Screwtape knew her better than you!  You saw the way he was able to get into her head.  She doesn't need this, Messenger.  Don't force it.

M: Trust me, Eddie, I'd love to have Caper and Donovan around to help.  But they're gone.  And don't tell me what she needs or doesn't need; you don't even know her.

E: [His voice started to rise, the hard look in his eyes becoming almost manic.] I don't know her?  I don't know her?  I was there when she first arrived, a broken, battered shell of a woman.  I was there when Caper helped her reconstruct a personality as Poe.  I've seen her struggling to hold on to Annabel and the pain it caused her, and I've seen what she had to give up to become Poe.  I took care of her when she couldn't even take care of herself.  I've fed her, clothed her, protected her, calmed her down, bathed her--which means I've, through no desire of my own, had to see her completely naked, and I know her well enough to know that's more than you've seen.  All these broken souls have been like children to me, and I've done my best to provide for them as much as I can.  And you have the nerve to tell me that I don't even know her?

M: Look, Eddie, I--

E: Out, Messenger.  Get out.  You're not welcome here until you've given your idiotic plan up.

M: Whatever.  I'm out of here.

E: [Yelling after me as I leave] If you hurt her, Messenger, trust me, there will be consequences.

M: Fuck you, Eddie.

Dodged that bullet....

Well, I was expecting April Fool's Day to be a disaster.  After all, you all remember Screwtape's Valentine's Day "gift."  Being around a bunch of socio/psychopaths on a day designed for pranks is just asking for trouble.

Fortunately, it went better than planned.  With Theta not really striking me as the pranking type, Screwtape and Caper dead, and nothing but silence from Eternity, the only person I was expecting a really dangerous prank from was Nee-chan.  Who was, once again, visiting to watch anime.  It's been a while since she's done that, and now that things have calmed down, Annabel and I figured it was a good idea to invite her over again.

She brought a full backpack, which kind of worried me.  After a while I forgot about it (no use being paranoid), and we stopped paying attention to her.

It turns out Nee-chan likes pranks.  But isn't very creative.  After she left, I realized that Annabel and I had to spend the rest of the day cleaning up the toilet paper strewn all over the kitchen.  And the Saran Wrap over the toilet seat.  And the water that spilled all over the floor when I opened my bedroom door (none of the water actually hit me--only the bucket).

So happy April Fool's Day, I guess.

-Don't Shoot The Messenger-