Chapter 2
The sound he made gets a reaction from the shadow...the shadow that is not quite a shadow any longer. He sees more now. He sees eyes. Yes...yes, they are eyes. Blue eyes. Staring back into his own.
My eyes are green...I have eyes...
He has eyes...but they can't be seeing what they are seeing. He knows this must be wrong. He knows because he has seen it over and over and over and over again until the pain of the vision is so deeply rooted that it festers like a sore. He knows they are all dead.
...and it's all my fault...
...and yet the sounds continue. The shadow continues to clear...and it contradicts what he knows. Again, he raises his newly-reappeared hand. Again, he touches the face...not the shadow, the face and he can't understand how it could be possible that he could touch someone who is dead.
...and it's all my fault...
The face moves...the...the mouth moves. The mouth. Eyes, nose, mouth...ears. Sounds come from the mouth. Yes. That's it. Sounds...they're not just sounds...what are they? They mean something...don't they? He looks straight ahead, knowing that he can't turn to the right or to the left. Turning means more pain. Besides, only people with bodies can turn, can move...
...but I have a body...don't I? I have hands. I have eyes. I can...see...hear...touch...there are other things aren't there?
He raises his hand that is in someone else's hand and looks at it. It isn't a real-looking hand. It's bony and gnarled...dirty. Not a real hand...but it moves and it touches things...it has to be a real hand. It's real and not real. He wonders if his eyes are real and not real as well. They're seeing things that they couldn't be seeing...people who are dead...but they are seeing.
...and it's all my fault...
The sounds keep coming and something tries to turn his head. He resists. Turning his head is wrong. That makes more pain. Stare straight ahead. Watching, always watching. The sounds he's been making become more agitated. He wonders why. He isn't aware of deciding to make the sounds. It's like his mouth, now that it knows it can make noises, has decided to continue doing so. He doesn't understand what he is...doing. The shadow...the face is replaced by another...face...another impossible face.
...what...no...how...you're all dead...
The thought brings back the anguish...and suddenly...his body...yes...his body...it's flopping around. How is that possible? His body is rigid, metallic...wait...no, that's not right. It's not. What is it? What is his body? Does he really have a body or is it...like his eyes and hands...merely an expression of real and not real?
...and it's all my fault...
...and all the while he stares straight ahead. His eyes do not shift. They are not even tempted to look anywhere else. That temptation was destroyed long ago...destroyed by the same monster that destroyed everything else. It is...it is...what is this? Pain! ...pain like he has felt so many times before...that pain that is tied to the images he sees and even though he cannot see them, he can see them. ...again...real and not real. He does not make loud sounds, but he hears his breathing become...more noisy. He feels the pain in his head...all through his body...his body that he didn't even know was there...
...and it's all my fault...
He stares straight...up, seeing glimpses of faces...the faces that can't be real...the faces that are supposed to be dead...dead...dead...all dead. Gradually, he becomes aware of another sensation...the feeling of his own body moving.
I'm breathing...my body is moving. I do have a body...
It is strange to him, feeling his body expand and contract. Open...close...open...close... over and over as he breathes in and out. He doesn't remember feeling that before, but it is so firmly tied to the sound he has identified as his own breathing that he feels that it must be him breathing that is making the movements. Why does it not fit? He does not fit in his body. He rattles around inside it...inside what must be there.
...and it's all my fault...
He has no conception of himself...whatever there is of himself. He remembers that his eyes are green, that he has hands, that he can breathe. There is nothing else...no other part that is...himself. He hears more noises from the sides, from above his head but he only stares straight up...and he doesn't move...although he is moving. He doesn't understand how that can be possible.
What am I doing?
At any moment, he knows this will disappear. He has dreamed of this being true...no...no, he hasn't. Thinking of what isn't true is wrong and is punished. It cannot be true...no, it is not true. He will not look. He will not believe. He will wait for the images to return, wait for the searing pain that rushes through his mind. He does not have a body. He does not see. He does not feel. Nothingness does not feel. He does not have the right. He watched them all die. He will watch them again...and again...and again. He will see them die until he knows...again...that it is truth. Only truth. Only...
A hand on his...
No! I do not feel! I do not see. No!
He hears the harsh sound that indicates he is still breathing.
No! I can't breathe!
Immediately, the sounds stop...but then...then...something happens.
Something is wrong...but why? I didn't have enough breath before. Why is it not enough now?
He hears...a...he hears a voice...it is a voice. A voice...one that speaks. People...people speak, and as he cannot hear his breath, he can hear the voice...almost...almost he can understand what it is saying...but the voice is disappearing...disappearing like he knew it would. The voice is dead. It is dead and dead voices cannot speak.
He is falling...falling toward darkness...but when did the darkness disappear? When did it become so bright? The darkness is coming toward him. He cannot understand. It does not make sense. Somehow, he knows this darkness is different. This darkness is like the first darkness...the darkness that brought the images, that brought the pain. This is that darkness. He does not want that darkness back...even if it means believing and being punished. He can't...he can't fall into that darkness. His fear, his terror, his grief...it all bursts out of him in one harsh cry, one frantic exhalation of air that he did not even have.
"NO!"