James…
You made me happy.
He must have read the end of the letter over and over again a hundred times at least. 'I made her happy…?' he thought. 'How could that be true?' Indeed, how could he have made her happy? After all he'd done to her? As if neglecting her when she was ill hadn't been bad enough…
He gazed out at the mist-shrouded Toluca Lake from the small overlook just outside South Vale. He remembered the vows they exchanged on what he remembered as the happiest day of his life. "To have and to hold…"
Strike one…
"For better or for worse…"
Strike two…
"In sickness and in health…"
Strike three…
He had broken his vows. What a pathetic excuse for a husband he was. Hell, he wasn't even fit to be called a human being. He had rarely been there for her, even when she needed him the most. And in the end, he killed her out of mere convenience. He took the one he valued more than life itself and threw her away as easily as if she had meant nothing to him. She was a burden to him then. How unfathomably stupid he was not to realize that life without her would be a burden infinitely more unbearable.
He shifted his gaze over to the knife in his other hand, and his thoughts wandered to its previous owner. She had entrusted it to him, lest she do something she might regret, but ultimately, it didn't matter; she intended to get it done one way or the other the whole time. He remembered their last interaction together on the burning staircase…
"Or maybe you think you can save me?" she had sneered. "Will you love me? Take care of me? Heal all my pain?"
He hadn't answered. What the hell was he supposed to say? How could he do any of that for her when he couldn't…no, wouldn't even do a damn thing for his own wife?
"That's what I thought," she hadsaid. "James," she continued, holding out her hand expectantly. "Give me back that knife."
"No…" he had answered. "I, I won't."
Yeah, as though that had actually been any real effort to stop her.
"Saving it for yourself?" she had replied.
"No…" he had answered. "I'd never kill myself…"
He cringed at the memory. How utterly ironic it was. Had he known then what he did now, would he still have said the same thing?
He went back to his car and sat in the driver's seat, staring dumbly ahead. He remembered all that he'd seen. Those monsters…from the twitching, seizing, writhing movements of the straightjacket-like figures, to the bizarre capering of the mannequin-like creatures, to the violent shuddering and broken-necked head bobbling of the nurses, and of course, the lumbering stride of the hulking executioner from days of old, brought back specifically for him. All of them, all his inner demons somehow made manifest. All of them, even Pyramid Head, they were all nothing in comparison to him. He couldn't help but wonder who had been the real monster in that town the whole time.
He saw the rear-view mirror in his peripheral vision, and in it he barely caught a glimpse of the prow of an angular helm, painted red with gore. He listlessly turned his head to look, but he saw nothing but his own reflection in the mirror. His gaze then drifted once again to the knife in his hand. The longer he looked at it, the weaker he felt, until he didn't even have the will to keep a decent grip on it. One by one, his fingers loosened their hold on the knife until it slid out of his hand and onto the floor with a soft ring, muffled by the carpeting. He looked down at it where it lay for a moment longer, then heaved a wistful sigh.
With great care, he folded the letter back up and placed it back into its envelope before depositing it in his jacket's breast pocket with his broken flashlight and his photograph ofMary when she was still in good health. How symbolic that was. The one closest to his heart, the light of his life, had been snuffed out. Mary was gone, and there was nothing that would change that.
He looked over at the figure sitting beside him in the passenger seat. How beautiful she was to him, even in death. How peaceful she looked, almost as though she were sleeping. But he knew she would never wake up. He had seen the writing on the wall.
If you really want to SEE Mary, you should just DIE.
But you might be heading to a different place than MARY, James.
That wouldn't surprise him. It was no more than he deserved. But then…he would never see her again either way.
"Now I understand," he said as he slammed the car door shut. "The real reason I came to this town."
He inserted the key into the ignition and, with a flick of his wrist, the engine thrummed back to life. "I wonder what I was afraid of?" he continued as he hastily threw the car into gear and sped out of the parking lot, the tires squealing in protest as they tried to bring the car up to speed with their revolutions. "Without you, Mary, I've got nothing…"
If you really want to SEE Mary,
Mary was dead.
you should just DIE.
Gone forever.
you should just DIE.
Never to laugh…
just DIE.
Never to cry…
just DIE.
Feel joy…
DIE.
Or anger…
DIE.
Or sorrow…
SEE MARY DIE
His mind was made up. He had nothing to lose.
Can it really be such a sin to run instead of fight?
Some people may say so, but they don't have to live in my shoes. It may be selfish, but it's what I want. It's too hard like this. It's just too hard…
Perhaps that was true. His motives were always selfish. Indeed, perhaps he was just being selfish again, but would anyone really want to stop him? Who would even miss him? Would not the world be better off without the likes of him to soil its face with his presence?
WARF Killing SHEF
His eyes burned as a strange pressure began to build behind them, and he sucked air through his teeth, choking back the sobs that constricted in the back of his throat. He refused to cry; he had no right to cry for her.
His vision began blur as tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn't wipe them away, nor did he slow down. On the contrary, his foot pressed down harder on the gas, and his driving became more erratic on the ever-tortuous mountain road that navigated the foothills skirting the lake. Faster, faster… If only he could escape the pain…
The tears finally spilled over, clearing his vision just in time for him to see where he was headed. It was too late for him to avoid it, but even if it weren't he probably wouldn't have anyway.
There was a strong jolt as the car plowed through the guardrail, and the vibration of the wheels against the asphalt ceased as the ground fell out from beneath the vehicle. He felt a lurch in his stomach, and time seemed to slow to a crawl as the irresistible influence of gravity exerted its pull on the car and drew it downward toward its final destination.
He slowly shut his eyes in resignation, two final tears trailing hot, wet paths down his face as he did. The last thing he saw, the lake, the place of their memories, was burned into his vision.
"Now we can be together…"
And his tears diffused into the waters of Toluca Lake.