59 | death; fleeting thoughts

[ding! message from lukiyo]

I AM SO SORRY, last week was early, this week was late, my brain is melting along the puddles of rain that crowd my streets... ahhhhhh... I won't keep you any longer, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!!

---xxx---

Silence swirled around them in cold realization as the two figures stared dully at the gruesome picture depicting on the carpet. The two boys, as peaceful as if they were sleeping, if not for the terror-stricken eyes left wide open.

"They... I—"

Will spun to the side and doubled over, bile burning in his throat as he threw up at the side, his bony shoulders shuddering as he gagged.

Then, tears pooled in his shocked and anguished eyes, saliva and tears mixing.

Lucas' eyes flickered, a deep sorrow imprinting in his gaze. He closed his eyes, not saying a word as he listened to Will's silent and muffled sobs that erupted as suddenly and unexpectedly at all the deaths had been.

A cry so unlike Will's silent disposition, it felt all the more terrible.

His eyebrows knitted together before he took a step forward, crouching down and resting his hand over their eyes gently as he slowly pushed them closed.

Although they now appeared in a state of calm slumber, it was only an illusion.

Will, hunched over and vision blurred through tears, watched wretchedly in a sorry state. The brothers—the two, bright boys that liked to visit every room and leave flowers at patients' doors.

Doe-eyed and cheerful, liked by all.

Dead.

His tears stumbled over more hurriedly, breathing heavily as he took a shaky step back. It was different—knowing that they'd disappeared, and seeing them in such a state of gory depiction, surrounded by their crimson blood.

Hair pillowed around their heads, face pale from death and left in a frozen state of terror. Almost like a dark statue, a morbid piece of art left to be found.

Crouched down besides the children, Lucas sighed softly, imprinting the scene to memory. Had he brought a pen and paper, he would've sketched down the horrors of this seen, the absolute fear and dread that came with the picture.

He would never forget this.

His failure to protect—and the consequence of it.

Ultimately, he wasn't a complete fool, and wouldn't wander in self-blame for too long. After all, death was inevitable and there were no other options.

Lucas knew that. Yet his fingers curled up against his palm painfully, digging into the crook of his hand. He moved slightly, pulling up his long-sleeved shirt to use it as a cloth to wipe the smear of blood on one of the boy's cheek.

"...what—!"

A hand lurched out from the corpse, a freezing vice around Lucas' pale wrist. The eyes remained shut almost mockingly, sent to sleep peacefully by Lucas' palm, but unable to do so.

Lucas pulled his wrist, but it wouldn't budge. An inhumane strength coursed through the dead little boy, refusing to let go.

The man set his jaw, glaring into the corners where darkness left its deepest print. "Your jokes should have limits, Teller."

Expectedly, only silence responded to his angered comment. Though he was certain that the Teller was listening, in the safety of the cracks and shadows, watching as they danced to its tune.

There seemed to be a light whisper in the air, a delicate tremble that told secret commands.

'Don't let him escape.' It said, a magnetic and deadly voice.

The grip around Lucas' arm tightened, bruising a brilliant red, that slowly faded into purple. Then, Lucas lifted his pale gaze to meet the tight closed eyes, and the furrowed eyebrows that were smooth earlier.

Was the boy conscious? Deep down, was there a part of him still alive?

A flicker of hope bloomed in Lucas' chest as he pried away again, successfully this time. The limp body fell backwards, boneless. Sprawled on the carpet like a broken toy, losing all semblance of life.

The momentary hope was extinguished in an instant.

What if...

...there was no saving the child from the Teller's grasp?

If the child's mind would eternally be left at the whims of the ridiculous Teller, if the small part that was still alive had no choice but to remain a helpless toy, then what? How could Lucas let things remain that way?

The whisper flowed again, and Lucas wished he could grab the invisible essence and strangle it to death and beyond.

'There is no saving what has been lost in a Story.'

He muttered darkly, "So now you reply, damn Teller? If I clear the Story... if I kill you then..."

'Then they will die at my side, as my sweet, darling puppets. Ask your lovely friend... she will tell you the same.'

Indeed, Lucas could confirm with Wren whether the Teller's truth were lies or not. However, he wasn't sure if the bodies would be whisked away and hidden, left to play hide-and-seek with corpses as the Teller pleased.

His stomach dropped, nausea crowding his chest as his eyes widened marginally.

The forced decision dawned over him—he would risk their eternal and unwilling control by the Teller, or...

...he would let them die as humans by his hand.

Lucas went pale in an instant, though his firm stance betrayed no emotion. Will, however, sensed a disturbance in the air and swiveled his trembling body to the man.

"Lucas... is there no... saving them?"

The adult's answer was controlled, emotions barricaded behind a towering wall. He hid nothing from the teenager. "The chances are very unlikely. If we choose to seek a way to save them, and are unable to find a method, then they will remain eternally under the Teller's control. Will, what do you want to do?"

Then, he corrected himself. "What do you want me to do? Risk them remaining trapped here, or let them die as the children you once knew?"

The calm spoken words reverberated through the teenager's head like a booming drum, pounding against his skull. Horror elapsed in his body, as he collapsed to the ground weakly.

He stared with wide, terror-filled eyes and the two corpses limp on the ground. The corpses, that if the Teller pleased, would be forced to move and perhaps reap the lives of the others.

He couldn't let their lives be toyed with like that. There was no way.

Raising a trembling fist that he forced himself to unfurl, he spread his palms and stared with almost desperate eyes. "I'll... kill them..."

The teenager's voice was painfully hoarse, croaking as it was worn from tears and exhaustion. The words had feel choked out of his throat, words he never wanted to say.

Lucas looked at the boy calmly and shook his head. "No, I won't allow it."

"...why—?"

"Have these children ever experienced a Story before?"

"...yes... in order to survive the Ranking... doctor made us enter a Story to gain... a temporary safety."

Lucas blinked in surprise, startled at how quick that protagonist of his reacted to the apocalypse, and how informed he was. As expected of the dazzling and heroic man, destined to save lives even if the world hadn't flipped.

His expression softened momentarily. "I see." Then, any lingering kindness faded into hardness. "Then, I will kill them."

That teenager should not have to bear the weight of murder on his hands. And even if one day he did, it should not be his precious family he needed to kill.

To kill the person they wanted to protect—what a joke would that be?

Will shook his head hurriedly. "No... I will."

"I have a unique ability, kid. Dead's disgrace—I am the bastard that steals from the dead." Lucas pulled out a piece of paper, long scrunched up in his pocket. It was the Story Ticket of Nora's.

Having little need for it, she ended up leaving it in Lucas' hands.

He closed his eyes, and dipped his finger in the dripping blood and drew a gruesome and rough question mark on the slip of paper.

A reply soon formed in elegant ink. 'Your question, darling?'

Lucas clicked his tongue at the response as the words faded, leaving a blank space for him to write. There was enough room to fit a fair amount of words, but he couldn't write anything in depth.

"Can... dead return... if soul present?"

If Elias needed more elaboration, then he would provide it. Though the irritable weed's words weren't as reliable as Wren's, he seemed to possess an adequate amount of knowledge.

However, he still wanted to check, even if his hope had been long burned out.

'...if you mean to ask whether a corpse with memories and a lingering presence can be saved, the answer is no. What dies in Stories remain dead. Even if they were to come out, they would remain in that same state.'

Lucas read through the words silently, numb and empty. He hadn't expected anything more.

'I answered your question, so answer mine.'

The man was in no mood for jokes. "I don't want to. It's a waste of time."

However, a question came regardless. 'Are you in a perilous situation right now? And is the ink you're writing with yours?'

By ink, he referred to the dark blood pressed by Lucas' fingers.

Lucas wrote out a singular and bold, "No." Before scrunching up the paper again and pressing into Wren's useful spatial pocket.

He hadn't bothered use the woman's ability, but it was convenient at this moment. Will was watching quietly the entire time, confusion scribbled over his features.

Lucas held the fine metal blade, free of any stains. He tilted his chin backwards at Will, collapsed on the ground as the boy lifted his shivering head with wide-eyes. Stark confusion, and immeasurable grief.

The teenager stared as if captured by an image he couldn't tear his eyes from. There seemed to be the ghost of a smile of Lucas' face.

Yet the pale white gaze foretold a bleak river of sadness.

"Their deaths will be by my hand."

Will didn't have time to react as all the lights extinguished at once, plunging the room into darkness. Lucas covered the light in deep, plummeting shadows as he moved with the pitch black, blade gliding in the air.

He gathered the limp bodies in his arms, brushing the frayed hairs from their eyes as if he were a parent helping them dress after waking. He closed his eyes in the shadows.

"You've done well."

Gently, as if a warm embrace, he slit the children's throats.

He felt liquid pool onto his hands, and the bodies that were limp completely sunk into the carpet. He had the feeling that it was real this time—that their deaths had been marked.

The shadows were chased away from the candles, illuminating the room in a dull glow once again. Will choked, tears sliding down his cheeks.

Staring at Lucas, who crouched by the bleeding children's side. A blade coated in fresh blood, and skin that could never wash away the crimson imprinted on a level deeper than the surface.

By the pretense of stealing their ability, Lucas had reaped their lives.

Will trembled and shook, but not with anger or despise. He was filled with a fathomless wave of sorrow, and regret for his own weakness. His weakness that made Lucas take his blade upon the children.

A jingle of musical laughter whispered in the air mockingly.

Then, the man who had been standing confidently and without hesitation, dropped to one knee. He clutched the left of his pain as his calm expression distorted madly, doubling over.

Lucas' eyes went large with jolts of pain that coursed through his every fibre, every cell that made him. Convulsing, he raised a hand to stop Will from approaching.

"I... will be fine. I just need to take a short nap." he gritted out through a clenched jaw.

His mind blurred before he could listen to the teenager's terrified response, a startling ringing in his ears as the scene before him faded.

Suddenly, 'he' was lying on the ground, surrounded by the wet sensation of blood. 'His' limbs were numb and unable to be moved, no matter how his mind protested. The wide eyes forced themselves to turn to the side, seeing a bloody corpse beside.

Tears built up at the corners of 'his' vision, but were not allowed to fall.

'He's dead. I'm dead. Are we dead? I... I don't want to die!'

A wretched sob that crowded the capacity of his mind, torn and broken as a dull wash of emptiness flowed over.

'Will I... never see anybody again? No... no! I want to live! I want to see everyone... why...'

The wails of a child, roaring vividly despite the numbness in 'his' bones. Lucas felt as the body, limp and helpless, was forced to move against its will. A disarming sensation, like 'he' was a prisoner in his own body.

It brought great nausea and discomfort to 'his' body. 'He' felt overwhelming terror, the shivering confusion and fear from a child.

He watched 'his' eyes turn to Will, the silent and empty cries growing louder and louder until he heard nothing else.

'Save me, save me... big brother!'

'I don't want to die! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Please...!'

'Why can't we all live? I want to be happy with everybody... I don't want to die... hic... I don't wanna see brother die again...'

But the cries were left unheard, buried inside 'his' mind. Lucas felt the child's deepest regrets, his shaking fear that couldn't understand what was happening. It was like a black scribble of tangled thoughts, painful in a way that dug into each crevice of the mind and imprinted itself.

Then light was reaped from 'his' vision, and all Lucas saw was darkness. And then, a cold metal biting against 'his' frail neck.

'Is that big adult going to kill me... I don't want to! Save me, SAVE ME SAVE ME SAVE ME SAVE ME... PLEASE! Help—'

The blade slipped across 'his' neck, as the darkness almost felt warm, tinged with regret and despair. The painful desire to live that would never be met.

'His' head turned slightly, reaching out a hand to 'his' brother—

—but it was a hand that would never reach its destination.

[The skill of 'Eye of Thoughts' has been successfully reaped! The ability is as follows:

Description: Allows for the user to temporarily read a specific targets mind for 24 hours. Can not be used on the same target a consecutive time, but can be used on the same target on separate occasions.

Additional: The original owner of this skill was scared of the unknown, smiling to meet everybody's expectations. He most wanted to understand thoughts, lest he be hated.]

Lucas' mind was given no moment to grieve or rest as his vision spun again, back to the beginning of the darkness. Only, the vision was different and the muddling thoughts were quieter, yet burning with the same terror.

'He' embodied the protective nature as he stared emptily at the ceiling, recognizing his inability to move. For a child, it was a sense of rational that was unnatural.

'...we are dead. Is there any way to save my brother...'

Seeing the corpse, its disgraced body and horror-filled eyes, 'he' was filled with an overwhelming sadness, that bubbled and burned at his chest. Wretched sobs that wouldn't leave his mouth, but only could remain in his head.

'After surviving for so long. I... couldn't protect him again.'

'His' memory played back a moment from the past, of the suffocating waters that filled 'his' throat and stole away any breath. A hand that reached helplessly out to a woman, whose head never turned.

To the back of the mother that abandoned the children in death.

The boy had resolved himself that day, a ringing thought against his absent mind. That he would never let harm befall his sibling.

That he would show his brother the most beautiful world. That they would never have to suffer again, silently and unable to cry for help.

'If... I could say goodbye... I wish...'

'In another life, can we live a happy life? Can we... find normality?'

'Or were we never allowed to?'

In 'his' gaze, Lucas' cold stare was reflected, and Will's collapsed figure that cried out mournfully through his rasping voice. There was a sense of joy in the corpse, soothing like a blanket of warmth.

'...no, I was happy. In this hospital, I was happy. Because they were my family.'

'He' saw Lucas tower over, pressing his eyes shut. 'He' listened to the surrounding murmurs, the words and whispers alike that slithered around his dull hearing.

Then the light outside of his eyelids was plunged into darkness. And the child belatedly understood and accepted,

'Ah... will he kill me? It hurts... it hurts so much, mister, please. Please kill me and my brother—

[The skill of 'Emotion Adjustment' has been successfully reaped! The ability is as follows:

Description: Allows for the user to regain a sense of calm in perilous situations, regardless of how strong their emotions are. Can adjust emotions as pleased twice a day.

Additional: The original owner of this skill was a boy that needed to adjust. It was a child who had no time to mourn.]

'—please... and thank you.'