Entropy
hemorrhage
Creeno
Donnie's turn
It comes in his dreams.
«his hand closes around the wood of the hatchet and milky white eyes watch him calmly, tells him he has to do this»
He can't decide or figure out what it all means.
«he has a can of spray paint, and when frank's mouth moves, he writes in perfect tandem, comprehending and at the same time utterly confused»
He knows what he's doing, but at the same time, he doesn't. It comes and goes, comes and goes.
«cherita looks away ashamed at sean and ron's words and suddenly he knows that despite it, she'll be okay, she'll be fine after all this, so he says nothing»
And when he knows?
When he knows, he suddenly wishes that he could just open his mouth and spill his secrets, one by one. Open his mouth and let the black ink of words, things he only knows come out, let everyone see them. He wants to watch the words slip like ink onto the floor, spin out and collect on the ground. Let them help him figure out Frank's plan, let them complete the puzzle with him, so he won't be so, so alone.
But then, he isn't alone, not really.
They're all there, but they don't know it, will never know it.
And it's better that way, for him to solve it by himself, because he knows only he, only he will believe.
And that's what Frank wants, right?
One believer in a sea of hypocrites, liars, confused people.
One believer is all it takes.