Chapter 21: Choosing
There was a choice. He was given a choice because there was always a choice. At the end, anyway. Most just didn't realise it was a choice at all.
One way lead down. Down into darkness, into shadow, into the gloom and depths of a pit shrouded in mystery.
The other lead upwards. It was similarly indiscernible but for its brightness rather than shadow. So bright that he could almost feel the light on his skin. His skin which was... not entirely... there.
To most the choice might be easy: stay away from the darkness and embrace the light. However temporarily blinding, light would always lead to illumination, to freedom, to understanding. Darkness was shrouded, confusion, smothering.
To most the choice would be easy. He was not most.
For to him, the darkness had always been comforting. Not the complete darkness of blindness – such stifling shadows could never be comforting – but he could see in the darkness. It cradled him, cocooned him, protected him. It concealed the ugliness he saw within himself, the parts he sought to escape from. It was a part of him, like the very air he breathed, whereas...
In contrast, the light was blinding. It was too bright and he'd never liked the light. It showed too much, revealed the shadows for what they were, for what they hid. He liked his shadows, liked the way they could conceal. The light – it was brutal, merciless, unforgiving. Every light was the same except...
Except for His light.
That memory... it was the only thing that might draw him back. The only thing that forced him to fight against the urge to simply let go. The darkness, it offered rest. Soothing, calming rest, ease and a final respite from struggling for so long. He wanted that. He wanted it so badly. He'd been fighting for far too long and he was tired. He just wanted to rest, for it to stop. He just wanted... just...
But there was that light. Yes, it was blinding. Yes, it was assaulting, promised to drag him back into trial after trial, never easing, never letting up. But He was there. He was a different kind of light and He was beautiful and... and maybe that was enough to keep fighting for. Even exhausted, even when he felt in that moment, in that instant, that he wanted nothing more than to simply stop, to cease the pain and the exhaustion, the strain and the fighting... there was the prospect of Him.
Was it worth it? Was it worth the struggle? It would be so easy to simply sink, to let himself drift down into the shadows. A decline was always easier to step than an ascent. It was always less of a struggle to simply let himself slide rather than to tense his muscles and clamber up the endless climb. Why were the most important battles always so hard?
He had a choice. There was always a choice, just like everyone else was given at the end. Some people didn't see it as a choice at all but they just didn't understand. He did. He saw his choice and... and...
And he decided. Shadows concealed, held mystery, were unfathomable, but they were familiar in their unpredictability, familiar in a way that he knew, that he could accept. That he could embrace. And climbing was exhausting, but there was a warm light at the end of the tunnel.
The decision wasn't really a decision at all. When he really thought about it, there was only one route he could take. One that he rightly should take, after everything. After all that he'd done, all that he deserved.
He took his step.
A/N: Now, I'm not so cruel as to leave such a cliffhanger as that for a whole week. I'll be updating at Christmas at the latest :)