Take you far away
It's a funny thing to say
When I've never held your small hand
He was sat in the backseat of his father's car with both his father and mother at the front. He watched whatever was outside his window, though finding it hard due to all the blurry droplets racing to reach the bottom of the window. It was a week after he was expelled from his previous school – for a complete ridiculous reason if you ask him. But he supposed he was asking for it considering he messed around in a private school. He rested his chin in his hands as he continued to look at nothing. His parents did so much work for him to get into that school but his rebellious sense of action put all that work in the garbage. Whenever he decided to do something on his own for himself, he managed to get into all sorts of trouble. He knew his parents loved him but he also knew they were disappointed in him, however, that did not stop them from continuing to help him in every way possible. He clenched onto his jacket sleeves and held his arms tighter as he got a sudden cold rush in his blood. This time, he promised, he will do everything he can to make it up to his parents. He was alone once again. He was starting over. A new school, new people to acquaint with, new adventures and misadventures. His second chance came by the name of Kadic Academy.
Ride along with you
It'd be a funny thing to do
Then I'll wake up
You'll be here, too
The floor started to shake; a quiet siren in the distance began to ring. The floors separated and rose and fell and went in all directions, raising a wall between him and the girl. The girl he was supposed to have listened to. The girl he was supposed to be following. The girl he was supposed to have been protecting as she collected important information. And here it came. A new sight for him. Large, varied, ugly. About a dozen or so tentacles under it. Its head a large light bulb with a red blaring light instead of a hopeful yellow. He was on his own. He had to fend for himself. He knew how this ended before. He could do it this time. He knew he would – but then the tentacles were surrounding him and tightened. They reached the sides of his head and began to work. They pulled out memories; they pulled out dreams; they pulled out hope; they inserted nightmares and a consciousness that he could not control, not anymore. They made him a virus on strings, his limbs moving by their own will. The floors levelled again and there she was. The girl he was... the girl he was supposed to have ignored. The girl he was supposed to go against. The girl he was supposed to attack and prevent from collecting important information. His eyes were strained; his arms worked upwards on their own; he slashed. Hundreds and thousands of tiny pixels in front of him, slowly disappearing. Suddenly he was free. He was alone. He was scared – no, terrified. His second chance gone in the blink of an eye. Not just any eye. The eye.
In the corner of my eye
You were shining way up high
Your reflection makes me feel weak
He felt weak. He felt dead. He felt empty. Doing as he was told, he at least made someone happy – well, something. Like a puppet on strings, he followed orders. Like a toy. Like a sick child's toy. Thrown left and right, up and down. Killing left and right. Killing up and down. The eye let him see. The eye let him see what's become of him. The eye left him with an uncontrollable conscience. All of them, one by one, gone in a cloud of pixels. The ninja: nothing left of her. The samurai: nothing left of him. The feline: nothing left of him. The guardian: nothing- wait. It's her. The girl. She watches him with pained eyes. She remembers. She regrets. It was not your fault, he says. She doesn't hear it, though. He never spoke in the first place. Then the tentacles surrounded her. The red blare around her head like a mocking crown. Virus finally implanted and her eyes open. But it's not her eyes anymore. It's the eyes. He speaks through his conscious again. It's not your fault, he says again. It's not yours either, she replies, an airy voice ringing through his head. His eyes widen as they are both dragged like puppets to a tower. The code is entered; the virus is placed; the area begins to tremble. The girl faints. He raises his sword. He strikes. The eye lets him go. He is free for a moment. He looks around the place. He is empty, alone, weak. He trembles and falls on his knees. The area around him trembles and falls in on him. He's falling. I'll never escape, he feels. He braces himself for the sting the eye makes him feel. The sea engulfs him. The world is almost gone.
Tryin' oh so hard
To keep the memory apart
Then I'll wake up
And you'll be free
The clutches start slipping off him. He feels each string being cut. Redemption. Reconsideration. Revelation. A second chance at his second chance. "So, did I do good?" he smiles pathetically. He knows but he won't show it. The girl is there. She's crying. They're all crying. He starts crying. He is denied and he leaves. He leaves in search of answers. His parents, worried sick, cradle him. A whole year passed and he had been giving a false name, a false look, a false identity. His friends believed in him but it was too late. Or perhaps it was too late. The eye is dead. It is gone. Away from harm, he is waiting for reconciliation. But none arrives. He tries to remember, but all he can do is follow. Regret. Rediscovery. Return. His second chance is harder than he thinks. Days. Weeks. Months. Evolution. He is not the bad guy. He never was. His chance presents itself and he takes it. He holds onto it. The girl begins to attack, however he wards her off with an offering peace. The feeling is awkward at first, but soon blooms. He saves her. He becomes the pulverised pixels. Her father: the anchor. Secrets hidden, questions revealed, secrets revealed, questions hidden. How much further will it be until- here it came. A not-so-new sight for him. Large, varied, ugly. About a dozen or so tentacles under it. Its head a large light bulb with a red blaring light instead of a hopeful yellow. This time not on his own. The ninja, the samurai, the feline, the guardian by his side. And he, the warrior, by their side. They were his angels, he was theirs. The eye would be pulverised soon, he knows it. He believes it and he hopes it. They all do. Redemption. Reconsideration. Revelation. Regret. Rediscovery. Return. Evolution. Their time is now. His time is now.