Regret
Saito bit his lip as he sat in his tall leather office chair, clad in his pajamas, his head resting in his hand. His eyes had the drooping squint of someone who'd had a rough awakening.
I can't remember if it's real or if I dreamed it, he thought. I have to find out again. Once again sucked into his soul-draining ritual, Saito found the smallest key on his chain, unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out a thick folder of newspaper clippings.
Like a predator ripping into its prey, he hungrily flipped through the articles in a quest for the sweet flesh of truth.
"Billionaire Mogul Announces Empire Breakup"
"Son of Maurice Fischer Plans New Corporation"
"Shareholders Revolt as Fischer Divides Newly-Launched Company"
"Fischer Arrested for Attempt to Disassemble Office Building"
"Robert Fischer Under Surveillance: Criss-cross Cuts Found on Arms and Legs"
"Fischer Declared Insane"
"St. Mary's Asylum for the Mentally Ill Welcomes High-Profile Patients"
"Robert Fischer Found Dead in Cell"
"Fischer Death Ruled a Suicide: Police Silent on Details"
"Insane Heir to Fischer Fortune Bled to Death"
"Self-inflicted Wounds Take Life of Fischer Son"
"Memorial Service Held for Fischer Family"
So it was true. As he had so many times previously, Saito sighed deeply in sullen defeat. Why didn't he consider the risks when he'd hired that team so many moons ago? He'd heard of the possibility of ideas overpowering and destroying their hosts, but a simple business move like breaking up a large corporation didn't seem like one that would drive a mark to such madness.
In the end it wasn't the idea of self-improvement and independence that took hold but rather one of division. Robert Fischer had no other thoughts in his mind besides his desire to destroy, to crush, to break apart anything dear to him, including his own body.
Guilt and regret weighed heavily on Saito's heart. You escaped from Limbo only to shrivel up and crawl towards death, a lonely man full of regrets, he lamented. Anyone who'd seen the businessman lately would remark on his sunken features, his once handsome face now sallow and bitter.
One of the main reasons for this was his insomnia. It wasn't the typical case of inability to sleep, no. Rather, Saito did his best not to fall asleep because it would drive him through the cycle of unreality once again, forcing him to question his existence, his raison d'être.
Those crystalline eyes, aqua in color and topped with proud brows. They stared right through him every night. Could you… Could you still be alive somewhere?
"Oh, Robert. I had never meant for this to happen to you," Saito confessed, his own eyes glossing up with tears. "It was all a game. A game called business. But I went too far. I'm so sorry…"
That unimaginably beautiful phantasm would always smile in response, the tiniest hint of mischief glistening on his lips. "What is there to be sad about, Saito? I'm here, aren't I? Now come, let's be together. Like you always promised we'd be." Robert extended his ephemeral hand in invitation.
"I can't come with you, Robert. As much as you and I would both like that," Saito responded, holding in the deep, painful wail that wanted to burst from his lungs. "We were young and foolish then. You stole my heart and wouldn't return it, so I set out to impress you by winning the game that we shared."
"You regret this, my love?" murmured the apparition, pulling out a blade from behind his back. "Prove your apology to me in blood. Let it run freely, as mine did."
Saito silently obeyed, taking the knife by its hilt. He took a deep breath, his focus never straying from the shade of what used to be his Robert.
"Goodbye, Robert. I regret many things, but my love for you I can never renege."
In one swift motion, he plunged the sharpness into himself.
The familiar buzz of his air-conditioning unit greeted Saito as he awoke from the ten thousandth reincarnation of his dream. His heart felt as if it were bleeding, as if he'd never returned to reality.
"Your love was the only thing I couldn't buy," he whispered.