Thank goodness I didn't get to witness your die like that. Truth be told, I never liked the idea of that many dead bodies together.
So, in the end, I left before you did. The irony of this: we die, the legacy dies. The perfect ending, isn't it? But back then, I still had a lot to say.
First of all, I want to apologize; I was very rude to you, and without reason. But you see, I have always been one to behave aggressively when I feel threatened; you may not have noticed the first time because I was strapped, and my mouth was full of metal. The house never really represented a threat, because I knew you would be watching, and I felt safe. No one expected what happened with Xavier, a mistake that taught us to consider interacting with out subjects twice before doing it again. But back in that house I felt stressed, not cornered or helpless. I knew I'd make it out.
The point is I was rude when I shouldn't have, and I know you don't like that. I hope you can forgive me for that.
I don't even want to talk about the traps, if they were unwinnable or not, or if I made them so. I don't want to talk about whether or not my test subjects were merely victims and nothing else, or if "murderer" is the right title for me because, right now, that's completely irrelevant. I'm in no position to claim or deny that title, the one of a common murderer.
What I do want to talk about is all those things that remained unsaid.
It all happened too fast, and then too slowly. I didn't want to go. Not then, not like that. I was right about to start talking, apologizing. I was about to confess it all, saying it loud and clear and to your face so you'd know. "Yes, I did it. Yes, it was my fault, I convinced Cecil to break into the clinic. Yes, I AM a murderer. Because of me, your child was never born. And yes, I've been waiting, biding my time day after day that I've spent here with you, I've only been waiting for you to face me and tell me that you've known all along, and that's why you put me in that trap, and that now you're going to kill me like I know you should, because I deserve it."
I spent three years of my life holding my breath, like a child would when he's about to dive into a very deep, dark pool from a high trampoline. A part of me was convinced that you knew, that the trap, my game,had not been just because, and that the reason behind it was deeper than just me being a fucking junkie. But still, that stupid fear had me standing on the edge of a platform, about to jump or about to slip. That fear kept me in silence, trembling quietly at the prospect of what could come next.
And it was that same fear that turned me into his victim; that fear dragged me right into Hoffman's plate, ready for him to do with me as he pleased.
The moment I felt that bullet pierce my neck…I wanted to shout everything out so you'd know.
I wanted to scream for your forgiveness, tell you how much you meant for me. I wanted to let you know you were my everything.
I wanted to whisper one last "I Love you", and let you know that your work would continue just as you had devised it, that I would make it happen.
I wanted to convince you that I could do it right, that all I needed was for you to believe in me ,guide me, explain everything once more, step by step so I could understand it fully. I know, it's hard to go through all this again, but sometimes I'm a bit slow when it comes to learning, and I need someone to help me keep my feet on the ground. But that's just me…
I wanted you to know why: tell you what that fucking bastard had done, show you the letter so you could finally see I was right about him and he wasn't one to be trusted. See what happened to us, all because of HIM? He managed to create a distance between us and he destroyed us, all so he could steal and pervert that for which you sacrificed everything. Vini Vidi Vici.
Right then, when I felt everything coming to an end, I wanted to tell you a thousand and one things about everything and nothing. I wanted to talk about us, and what you meant to me; I wanted to tell you my thoughts on Hoffman, and how I felt about Jill. I wanted to talk about what we'd done, how far we had managed to take our ideals. But instead, I listened carefully to every word you said, as I had always done. The sadness in your voice shattered me completely; seeing pain like that eating you from inside like that damned disease, making speaking even more difficult for you than it already was…it killed me faster than the wound itself. I wanted to interrupt your speech and tell you it would all be alright, that I knew what you were trying to tell me and that I understood. "Calm down, it's ok. We're gonna be alright, we'll make it through. Just call for help, save me, please…"
But it was all left unspoken. Nothing was said. The moment in which I needed my voice the most, it was gone, every word spoken that day seeming like a waste. My words, my energy, my very life was flowing out of that wound, slowly. Like my blood, I slipped away; I fell to the floor, slipped through my fingers and finally came to lie at your feet. And there I was, wanting to tell you everything I hadn't told you before. All I wanted to do was talk to you, but that was the only thing I couldn't do. Blood everywhere- my mouth, my hands, the floor...
Red had always been my color, you always told me that. The color of rage and passion. The color of what made me me
I left this world in a gash of red
Time Out. Game Over.