Tick Tock
AN: Wanted to experiment with a new style, also, if anyone would be interested in joining my C2 as a staff member, please message me! I'd appreciate it tons :)
It shouldn't be this hard looking at it, you think to yourself slowly as the skinny second hand begins to move. It casts a small shadow, and the tiny ticking noise it makes echoes in time to your heart beat. Something sickening resides in your mouth when you find yourself compelled to wonder just how many times you're going to see it move the way it's moving now. How long your heart will keep beating, even when there comes a time you don't want it to.
The pocket watch feels cold in your hands, as icy as the fire that you had recently stepped through. When you stare at its glass lens it's hard to avoid looking at your own reflection. A reflection that you may just one day become ashamed of. A reflection that won't change, something that's as constant as the ticking of the clock.
The minute hand moves now, and you feel like a moron for wasting your time staring at a watch. But then there's that bittersweet realization that time is yours to waste forever now.
Except it's not. It's not your time, it is his time, and your grip on the cold object tightens. There's fear, of course there's fear, but you're not ready to admit that to yourself yet. Maybe when you're older, maybe when you can come to terms with the fact that some shadowy, abstract thing owns you. Something without a face is giving orders now, and the plummeting sensation in your stomach causes you to kneel down in an odd mockery of prayer.
Another minute.
You know that it's uncommon for a Follower to own a watch, especially a watch with hands, but for some reason you feel compelled. Every second, minute, hour that goes by reminds you of your debt. The only reason you're where you are now is because of that thing. That thing is responsible for you, now that you've relinquished the privilege.
You can't tell if the clock is speeding up or if you're slowing down, because every morning is beginning to look the same. All the people, all the faces, go by in a blur as nothing holds any relevance anymore. Ever since you figured out that you will continue to be there, but they are gone. Gone like the seconds that tick by, a simple fleeting reminder that fails to make a mark.
You don't even get that option. You're where you are, and that's where you will stay for eternity.
You know that the seconds will keep on moving forward, and that you can not move on with them.
The watch feels heavy in your hand, and another hour goes by.