Hosts Don't Cry
Children of the Gods
I am trapped in my own body. My own soul. There is nothing I can do to make it better. To make the world better. I failed. In the seldom hours of myself I lose myself once again. I am trapped. Doomed. Inside myself.
I never liked darkness.
There's something about it that always seemed to seep into the mind, poisoning every possible pure thought, and heavens be with me, I don't have much of these to spare. My thoughts are mostly dark. They are confusing and inviting freedom, showing me in vivid colorlessness what I do not have.
Yet they are all I have now, this is when He goes to sleep
Usually hours pass before I can be freed but just for this time, he went without a struggle. Letting me reemerge, to taste freedom for just a minute more. To feel myself again. I know that this is just temporary, that soon my nightmare will take control again, but I am ready to thank every moment I have to be alone. With no else but me.
I suddenly realize that the bed is trembling from a sudden shake. In a quick flashback I remember the entire past occurrence, and curse my weakness. That I wasn't able to prevent any of that from happening. And now, the woman beside me is doomed to share the same fate as I. But even though I know she's there, I don't want to see her, to understand fully what I have done to her unwillingly. This isn't my fault, and I know it, but maybe it is. Maybe if I fought harder and was stronger, maybe she had a chance. Maybe I should have kept the battle longer and never believed to his lies, never ran away, never lost… maybe then all had been well.
But I already know that these thought are futile now. I was never able to win when he wanted something. This time wouldn't have been different.
Yet knowing and feeling are entirely different things. And I know that I will never be able to escape from that feeling as long as I live. I have wronged, and I don't have a way to atone for it. Not while I'm living whereas those whose lives I've taken are long buried within the soil. But to die- this is too tempting, but even that I can't do. HE wouldn't let me.
The beautiful woman is moving, turning to my side and gliding into the white silky sheets while all along she's keeping her eyes closed, stalling, stealing another few moments of dreams.
She, too, knows that when she will wake up she will have to face the reality. The nightmare.
I have talked to her when she first arrived, after her second time in the sarcophagus. I told her that she can try to fight, but it will never work. The powers that we are up against are way too powerful. All we have against them is hope.
She told me that she have abandoned hope already. That keeping it is simply too hard. She told me that she's been kept away from the one she has chosen to live her life with. Fate stole him away from her, she cried. And I didn't have condolence to give her.
She told me about he loved one, then. How he walked and talked, the passion in his eyes, and I could feel the burning inside her chest, giving her power and taking it away from her at the same time.
Her loved one was her strength and weakness. In the vivid dream that we now we call our life, longing is more potent that poison.
I will never know what drove me to do it, but in the intimacy that was held in that night, I told her about my wife. The wife I chose to leave so long ago, when I still thought that a war zone can end suffering, and that weapons and death can actually kill. I was naïve then, and now I wish for that innocence once again. I have seen too much since then, things which never let me look at those I kill straight in the eye and to see them as humans. I already start seeing them as objects, motionless things which need to be eliminated.
At first I didn't want to kill, but after the first hundred times, I realized that I had no other choice. There is no other way. Besides, what are human lives if they fall like flies?
I can still see them in my inner eyes, though, calling for help, weeping. I grieve for them. But most of all I grieve for myself. There is no point to fight, He is too strong. My wife is probably dead by now, if she hadn't died the day I killed our son. This happened at the time when I still fought against the evilness. Against the injustice. Against everything.
I lost.
So I ceased fighting, for it didn't bring any good. Only pain.
A silent sob is distracting me from my own pain, to another's. A silver tear is dropping under her eyelashes, I suddenly realize, holding back the urge to wipe it. I can't fix it. Can't fix anything. The only thing that this action cause be re- arising. And fear.
So instead I look at the familiar figure in the mirror that is fixed just above my head, mine. Letting me see myself totally, see what I have become.
A monster.
I touch my own face, feeling the facial features, the too familiar expression, in what seems to be the first time. I am no longer young, yet I still look that way. Or maybe I am young, and my emotions are the ones which grew older.
I was trapped here for so long. So long. The only free moments that I am given are the little stolen hours, sometimes minutes, when I feel tired. And weak.
The weakness no longer fears me; I take it as a blessing. When I am weak, I can be me again. The long forgotten me.
I want to sleep. But I know what the cost of it will be. I haven't slept for so long. So many months. So many years. But the alternative is too harmful even to consider. And I know it. I know that when I will finally go to sleep, give in someday to the tempting fatigue, I will lose everything.
But truly, do I even care?
I want to say that I don't. Want so much to deny this concern. But a quick glimpse to the woman's direction, to her face, is making it clear what the cost will be.
I have to stay awake.
. . . .. But I am so tired. . ..
. . .no.
. . . Just one moment, for a little while. A tiny nap and that's all. No one will even notice.
.. HE will notice.
. . . Please. .
NO!
NO!
I can't. That is my curse. I have to stay awake. Or... I shiver within, feeling the anxiety grabbing my heart, making the shadows more terrifying that I ever considered them to be
No!
NO!
But I'm too late. I can feel the scream in my heart becoming louder and dying on my lips. The monster woke up.
Apophis, my symbiote, is awakened.