Running Away
He looked out the window, looking at the city he ruled, the world that was his. A world he owned, now a world just out of reach. He remembers the beauty he saw in the Matrix, the genius. He ruled that genius once...It was his...
A world where he made the Matrix cry, now gone. Taken away from him like so many other things.
He didn't go to sleep that night. Sleep was human. He never wanted to sleep again. Because he knew now, that if he closed his eyes long enough, nothing would happen. And he would open to see nothing, but the world out of his reach.
He remembered flying, his copy flying, and ruling the sky. He remembered the rain falling onto him. He remember becoming one with the sky and rain and lighting. He remembered becoming one with the Matrix.
But now, he could never fly again. A demon called Smith with wings, and an Angel called Neo took them away. Maybe he could reach the city if he could fly just a little closer. Maybe he could reach the sky if he flew just for a moment longer.
Maybe if he watched the sunrise long enough...
"Good morning." Sati smiled at him.
Smith only turned to her and nodded.
"Did I ever tell you about the time when I owned that city?" Smith asked, dazed.
Sati looked over at the window to the city.
"No." She said.
"Well..." Smith rose to his feet, off the couch. "I did."
Seraph came to him, and gave him a look, saying I know what you just said. Smith shrugged it off, and stood in the middle of the room, staring at him.
Neo was coming. Smith kept reminding himself in the back of his mind. Passed the pain, and bad memories. A message constantly playing in his head. Neo is coming. Neo is coming. Neo is coming. Then he stops. No. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming.
Then Smith straightened his suit.
Mr. Anderson was coming. Mr. Anderson was coming to kill him. He was not going to die cowering. He was not going to die screaming, it's not fair. He was not going to die with the Source cracking through his skin. He was not going to die in the light of heaven. Not again.
Smith was going to die like he always should. Standing straight, in his suit, eyes a void of emotion. No lasts words, no remarks of hatred. Just simply allow himself to die.
"Well, good morning everyone." The Oracle came walking in, breaking Smith's and Seraph's stares.
"Sati, I think we are out of cookies." The Oracle smiled.
"Yay!" Sati ran to the kitchen.
She knew what they were going to do. Make cookies.
"Smith, would you like to help us?" The Oracle looked at him.
"What!?" Seraph asked in anger.
The Oracle looked at him, angrily.
"You heard me." She said. "Well?" She looked at Smith.
"I..." Smith began.
He didn't say anything after that. He simply lowered his head in defeat, and walked into the kitchen, where he was greeted by a jumping Sati. Why fight it? He said to himself.
"Alright, you have to make the doe first." The Oracle got a bowl from the cupboard.
Smith frowned at the coming tasks. From firing a Desert Eagle to making cookies.
Smith stood in the corner, his arms folded, clearly not wanting to do this. He got out of the way, and waited until he was called upon to help. Until then, he wouldn't do anything unless necessary. Just staring at them, watching the little girl smile at nothing but flour and chocolate chips.
He lowered his head in shame. An Agent, a Virus should not do these things.
"Smith, come on. Help us." The Oracle called to him. "Rub the doe with your hands."
Smith slowly walked over to her, and stared at the cookie doe. He sighed, and slowly, cautiously put his hands in the bowl.
The doe was cold, and sticky. The first word that came to him, sticky. Pathetic. He frowned, as he crumpled the doe, allowing it to infect his hands, enter his fingers and nails.
"No, you have to be gentle." The Oracle said.
"Yeah, gentle!" Sati said.
"It's like I always say..." The Oracle started.
Smith stopped.
"Cookies need love like everything does." Smith finished for her.
He said it, staring at his hands, staring at the doe. He said it, remembering the power he felt, the pleasure he got from mocking her. He said it, void of any emotion. He said it, then began rubbing the doe again, as if nothing was wrong.
The Oracle, and Sati stopped, and looked at him, remembering those dreadful days. The Oracle swallowed, and started rubbing the does as well.
"That's right." The Oracle said.
Smith closed his eyes, still molding the doe.
The Oracle went into her room to clean her clothes, she had to get the doe off. She hummed a little tune stuck in her head, as she tried wiping the stain off, and heading towards the bath room for some water.
"I don't trust him."
The Oracle looked up to see Seraph at her doorway.
"I know." She said annoyed.
"Oracle he is a danger to us." Seraph persisted.
"So you have said again and again."
"He will kill us at the next possible –"
"Seraph, has he done anything to show he plans this?" The Oracle interrupted him.
Seraph sighed in defeat.
Then Sati's screams came from the kitchen, and Seraph shot a look at the Oracle, as she looked surprised. Seraph ran to the kitchen as fast as he could.
"Sati!" He yelled.
There, the little girl was smiling.
"Seraph?" Sati asked, confused.
Smith looked up, innocence in his eyes. He was crouched on the floor, blood on his hands. Below him, a broken bowl, with cookie doe on the floor.
"I..." Smith started. "I dropped it."
Seraph stared at him, confused. He almost wanted Smith to do something, so he may convince the Oracle to kill him.
The Oracle came running, and sighed with relief at what she saw.
"Oh, Smith we'll need to put bandages on that." She said, ignoring Seraph.
Smith didn't get up, he just crouched there, staring at the broken bowl, and the blood dripping from his hands. He didn't move, almost caught in the moment. The blood was all over his hands, the shards of broken glass cut his skin. Such fragile skin. Such weak skin. Weak.
And the blood he was acquainted with, the blood he knew so well, fell and stained the floor. Blood as red as the pill rebels took. Blood that he longed for to give him some kind of feeling, some kind of pain. But as the blood stained his hands, he felt nothing. Only the sounds of the bowl breaking and cracking rang in his head.
Smith made fists and closed his eyes. Begging to feel something, anything from the blood.
"Smith, get up." The Oracle told him.
Smith stared at the bandages around his hands. He tilted his head, seeing the red underneath. He started to rub his hands together.
"Don't touch them. Those were bad cuts, touching will make them worst." The Oracle said.
Smith stared up at her from the couch, and watched as she and Sati walked into the kitchen, most likely going to clean his mess. Smith looked down ashamed. Mr. Anderson was coming, and he wouldn't even be able to put up a fight. He couldn't even hold a bowl.
"What do you want?" Smith asked.
Smith knew he was watching him. Seraph watching him across the room. Seraph was always watching him.
"I warned you about harming them already didn't I?" Seraph said.
"I have not done anything remotely close to harming them." Smith turned away.
"People like you. Things like you never change." Seraph remarked in hatred.
Smith shot his head towards Seraph, in anger.
"Excuse me?" Smith said, as if he were Agent.
"Things like you never change. I have been around long enough to know this." Seraph said.
Smith got up, and walked towards Seraph. Seraph stared at him, fire in his eyes behind his sunglasses.
"I will not be accused for actions I cannot even commit!" Smith yelled.
"You're stronger now. Stronger than you were weeks ago, days ago." Seraph said. "You still are getting stronger. If your strength returns to you, I fear you will attack us. You will do the same as you have already done."
"Nonsense!"
"Is it!? Already you say you would. I watch you, look at that window. I know what you're thinking. I know you want it back. You want it all back, and if you could you would!"
Accusing and accusing of things Smith had already learned he could not accomplish. If he could he would. But by now Smith had realized he cannot. He could never do it. Never would everything be his again.
"Lies!" Smith yelled.
The Oracle could hear the screaming, as she peered into the living room, and kept Sati aside.
"Lies! Lies! The entire system, based on lies! And you! You all knowing protector! Thinking what you cannot even comprehend! If you only knew what I must endure each day!" Smith yelled.
"What!? What do you endure!? Dreams of killing Neo!? Or should I say Mr. Anderson!?" Seraph made fists.
"No!"
He doesn't know what happened to him. How he did, where the strength comes from. Maybe it is just him, his way, like an instinct. Maybe all the anger, almost three months now, all the anger inside, never being let out. Just like before. All the anger finally unleashed.
But Smith stood there, his fist with a bandage on, in the air. And Seraph to the wall, holding his face, where a bruise would surely appear. Seraph staring, in shock at him. The Oracle with her hand to her mouth, and Sati peering in. Smith stared at his fist, breathing deeply.
Then he too was shocked.
"See...Things like you never change." Seraph whispered.
Smith looked over at the Oracle, fear in her eyes. And Sati, running out of his view. Seraph, staring with hatred. Fear he once welcomed, now he wanted to go away.
"No..." He whispered, but no one heard.
He couldn't take this anymore. No more anger staying here. No more forcing to do chores. No more little girl telling him it will be a good morning. No more accusing from a fallen Angel named Seraph.
He couldn't take this. He couldn't be with these people, these programs so different from him. He couldn't stay with the smells and noises. This was too much. This anger, this punch, was it. No more.
No more mocking from a city and sky that he once owned. No more cookies! No more anything! No more of this anger, this pain, that brought back the memories! How many years trapped within the Mainframe? How much anger and pain? How many torturing thoughts of freedom?
Mr. Anderson was coming to get him.
With this punch, a punch he was able to do so easily, with this punch, the pain came back.
And he wanted to scream for it to go away.
Then Smith began to run away. He ran for the door, pushing it open with his shoulder, and running to the doors.
"Smith! Smith, no! They'll kill you!" The Oracle screamed.
You say you want me, but they are lies as well, he thinks closing the door to the stairs. The Oracle ran to her door, and saw him leave. And Seraph stood in the hallway, holding back a smile from the Virus running away, finally leaving them alone.
"Get him! Go and get him!" The Oracle yelled. "He'll be killed by the Agents!"
Seraph finally smiled.
"I know." He replied.
Just keep running. Just keep running. They won't have time to find you if you keep running. No time to look at you. No time to notice. Just keep running away.
He ran through the streets of the city, covering his face and ears, holding back the smells. Not allowing anyone to see him. Just think he was another man in a suit, nothing more than that. Nothing more now. Just running away.
He didn't look at them. He didn't want to see their faces, all looking the same. Such a variety of human kind, looking nothing but the same. Just like he once was. The same, same with every other copy. He didn't look at them, bending down his head, and pushing through the crowds.
His skin almost burning by the touch of them.
"Hey, watch where you're going!"
They scream at him, as if he were nothing, as if he were not a threat. But he wasn't anymore.
Smith closed his blue eyes, and kept running. Just keep running. Run away from them. The smells and noises, a fallen angel, and a misguided Oracle. Just keep running. Run away from the them all. Away from the Mainframe. Away from the returning Mr. Anderson. Running away from so much.
Maybe Mr. Anderson wouldn't be able to find him. Maybe if he ran far enough, maybe if he was alone. Maybe in the darkness, closing his eyes. Maybe cutting himself to make the pain go away...
He remembered this place, how could he forget. Memories surrounding this place. This place where it ended, and began. Room 303, with Mr. Anderson's blood on the wall, and a phone to the side.
This place, where he died, and came back. Where Mr. Anderson went inside him. Both times. This place where he once stood in the safety of his copies, watching the one copy fight with Mr. Anderson, destined to win, then destined to lose.
This place, where The Oracle found him.
Smith stumbled as he entered, this place where so many bad memories come. He stopped and looked down to his feet. And saw them.
His sunglasses.
He would have smiled, he would have allowed himself to feel joy, if not the pain were here with him. He bent down, and held them in his hand, staring at them. These sunglasses that evolved with him, that were with him. Sunglasses, hiding his eyes, hiding him from seeing the truth.
He squeezed them, and lowered his head to them, wishing everything would go away.
Smith knew they might come. The Agents might come for him. He knew how it worked. The Matrix continually scanning for glitches and anomalies, finding any and telling the Agents how to proceed. He remembered how it worked, he was an Agent after all a long time ago. He remembered. He knew they would come. But at this point, it was irrelevant.
Let them come. Let them kill you. You're dead anyway.
Smith crawled to the corner, his sunglasses being held gently in his bandaged, damaged hands. He huddled up in the shadow of the wall. And closed his eyes.
Mr. Anderson was coming for him.
He couldn't do it. With all that power, he still couldn't do it. All that power, hiding the fact how emotional he and all the copies acted. The power hiding the anger. The power blinding them all from the truth.
They were all going to die. He was going to die.
"It was a trick...It was a trick...A trick..." He whispers to himself.
It was a trick, he is sure. He saw himself win. Then he saw himself die. It was trick though. All a big trick.
But it wasn't. And he died. He tried to change his future, his destiny, now look at him. Laying on the floor, only sunglasses to comfort him.
He couldn't change his future. And he still couldn't, such a power beyond all.
"Mr. Anderson...Please..."
Pleading to the dead.
Mr. Anderson was coming. Mr. Anderson was going to kill him. This was his future, and he still couldn't change it.
"Please..."
So he pleaded to the dead, to spare him. But he knew not even the dead were going to listen to him. If he could change this, he would. If he could make it okay, better, if he could repair it, he would. Smith held back what he assumed were tears, as he held his sunglasses tighter.
"Get up..." He told himself. "You have to get up..."
But he didn't, as he kept his eyes close, afraid to see the world around him. And Smith, began to cry.
And he hated it.
If he could make the smells and noises go away, he would. If he could leave it all behind, he would. If he could forget his past, start a new, he would. He wanted to so much. Just to make it all stop. Just to allow him what he always wanted. To be. Just to be, and be free.
Then wishing, pleading, and commanding, Smith drifted into the darkness of sleep, not wanting to awake to another day.
Next Chapter: Thank You
He looked out the window, looking at the city he ruled, the world that was his. A world he owned, now a world just out of reach. He remembers the beauty he saw in the Matrix, the genius. He ruled that genius once...It was his...
A world where he made the Matrix cry, now gone. Taken away from him like so many other things.
He didn't go to sleep that night. Sleep was human. He never wanted to sleep again. Because he knew now, that if he closed his eyes long enough, nothing would happen. And he would open to see nothing, but the world out of his reach.
He remembered flying, his copy flying, and ruling the sky. He remembered the rain falling onto him. He remember becoming one with the sky and rain and lighting. He remembered becoming one with the Matrix.
But now, he could never fly again. A demon called Smith with wings, and an Angel called Neo took them away. Maybe he could reach the city if he could fly just a little closer. Maybe he could reach the sky if he flew just for a moment longer.
Maybe if he watched the sunrise long enough...
"Good morning." Sati smiled at him.
Smith only turned to her and nodded.
"Did I ever tell you about the time when I owned that city?" Smith asked, dazed.
Sati looked over at the window to the city.
"No." She said.
"Well..." Smith rose to his feet, off the couch. "I did."
Seraph came to him, and gave him a look, saying I know what you just said. Smith shrugged it off, and stood in the middle of the room, staring at him.
Neo was coming. Smith kept reminding himself in the back of his mind. Passed the pain, and bad memories. A message constantly playing in his head. Neo is coming. Neo is coming. Neo is coming. Then he stops. No. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming. Mr. Anderson is coming.
Then Smith straightened his suit.
Mr. Anderson was coming. Mr. Anderson was coming to kill him. He was not going to die cowering. He was not going to die screaming, it's not fair. He was not going to die with the Source cracking through his skin. He was not going to die in the light of heaven. Not again.
Smith was going to die like he always should. Standing straight, in his suit, eyes a void of emotion. No lasts words, no remarks of hatred. Just simply allow himself to die.
"Well, good morning everyone." The Oracle came walking in, breaking Smith's and Seraph's stares.
"Sati, I think we are out of cookies." The Oracle smiled.
"Yay!" Sati ran to the kitchen.
She knew what they were going to do. Make cookies.
"Smith, would you like to help us?" The Oracle looked at him.
"What!?" Seraph asked in anger.
The Oracle looked at him, angrily.
"You heard me." She said. "Well?" She looked at Smith.
"I..." Smith began.
He didn't say anything after that. He simply lowered his head in defeat, and walked into the kitchen, where he was greeted by a jumping Sati. Why fight it? He said to himself.
"Alright, you have to make the doe first." The Oracle got a bowl from the cupboard.
Smith frowned at the coming tasks. From firing a Desert Eagle to making cookies.
Smith stood in the corner, his arms folded, clearly not wanting to do this. He got out of the way, and waited until he was called upon to help. Until then, he wouldn't do anything unless necessary. Just staring at them, watching the little girl smile at nothing but flour and chocolate chips.
He lowered his head in shame. An Agent, a Virus should not do these things.
"Smith, come on. Help us." The Oracle called to him. "Rub the doe with your hands."
Smith slowly walked over to her, and stared at the cookie doe. He sighed, and slowly, cautiously put his hands in the bowl.
The doe was cold, and sticky. The first word that came to him, sticky. Pathetic. He frowned, as he crumpled the doe, allowing it to infect his hands, enter his fingers and nails.
"No, you have to be gentle." The Oracle said.
"Yeah, gentle!" Sati said.
"It's like I always say..." The Oracle started.
Smith stopped.
"Cookies need love like everything does." Smith finished for her.
He said it, staring at his hands, staring at the doe. He said it, remembering the power he felt, the pleasure he got from mocking her. He said it, void of any emotion. He said it, then began rubbing the doe again, as if nothing was wrong.
The Oracle, and Sati stopped, and looked at him, remembering those dreadful days. The Oracle swallowed, and started rubbing the does as well.
"That's right." The Oracle said.
Smith closed his eyes, still molding the doe.
The Oracle went into her room to clean her clothes, she had to get the doe off. She hummed a little tune stuck in her head, as she tried wiping the stain off, and heading towards the bath room for some water.
"I don't trust him."
The Oracle looked up to see Seraph at her doorway.
"I know." She said annoyed.
"Oracle he is a danger to us." Seraph persisted.
"So you have said again and again."
"He will kill us at the next possible –"
"Seraph, has he done anything to show he plans this?" The Oracle interrupted him.
Seraph sighed in defeat.
Then Sati's screams came from the kitchen, and Seraph shot a look at the Oracle, as she looked surprised. Seraph ran to the kitchen as fast as he could.
"Sati!" He yelled.
There, the little girl was smiling.
"Seraph?" Sati asked, confused.
Smith looked up, innocence in his eyes. He was crouched on the floor, blood on his hands. Below him, a broken bowl, with cookie doe on the floor.
"I..." Smith started. "I dropped it."
Seraph stared at him, confused. He almost wanted Smith to do something, so he may convince the Oracle to kill him.
The Oracle came running, and sighed with relief at what she saw.
"Oh, Smith we'll need to put bandages on that." She said, ignoring Seraph.
Smith didn't get up, he just crouched there, staring at the broken bowl, and the blood dripping from his hands. He didn't move, almost caught in the moment. The blood was all over his hands, the shards of broken glass cut his skin. Such fragile skin. Such weak skin. Weak.
And the blood he was acquainted with, the blood he knew so well, fell and stained the floor. Blood as red as the pill rebels took. Blood that he longed for to give him some kind of feeling, some kind of pain. But as the blood stained his hands, he felt nothing. Only the sounds of the bowl breaking and cracking rang in his head.
Smith made fists and closed his eyes. Begging to feel something, anything from the blood.
"Smith, get up." The Oracle told him.
Smith stared at the bandages around his hands. He tilted his head, seeing the red underneath. He started to rub his hands together.
"Don't touch them. Those were bad cuts, touching will make them worst." The Oracle said.
Smith stared up at her from the couch, and watched as she and Sati walked into the kitchen, most likely going to clean his mess. Smith looked down ashamed. Mr. Anderson was coming, and he wouldn't even be able to put up a fight. He couldn't even hold a bowl.
"What do you want?" Smith asked.
Smith knew he was watching him. Seraph watching him across the room. Seraph was always watching him.
"I warned you about harming them already didn't I?" Seraph said.
"I have not done anything remotely close to harming them." Smith turned away.
"People like you. Things like you never change." Seraph remarked in hatred.
Smith shot his head towards Seraph, in anger.
"Excuse me?" Smith said, as if he were Agent.
"Things like you never change. I have been around long enough to know this." Seraph said.
Smith got up, and walked towards Seraph. Seraph stared at him, fire in his eyes behind his sunglasses.
"I will not be accused for actions I cannot even commit!" Smith yelled.
"You're stronger now. Stronger than you were weeks ago, days ago." Seraph said. "You still are getting stronger. If your strength returns to you, I fear you will attack us. You will do the same as you have already done."
"Nonsense!"
"Is it!? Already you say you would. I watch you, look at that window. I know what you're thinking. I know you want it back. You want it all back, and if you could you would!"
Accusing and accusing of things Smith had already learned he could not accomplish. If he could he would. But by now Smith had realized he cannot. He could never do it. Never would everything be his again.
"Lies!" Smith yelled.
The Oracle could hear the screaming, as she peered into the living room, and kept Sati aside.
"Lies! Lies! The entire system, based on lies! And you! You all knowing protector! Thinking what you cannot even comprehend! If you only knew what I must endure each day!" Smith yelled.
"What!? What do you endure!? Dreams of killing Neo!? Or should I say Mr. Anderson!?" Seraph made fists.
"No!"
He doesn't know what happened to him. How he did, where the strength comes from. Maybe it is just him, his way, like an instinct. Maybe all the anger, almost three months now, all the anger inside, never being let out. Just like before. All the anger finally unleashed.
But Smith stood there, his fist with a bandage on, in the air. And Seraph to the wall, holding his face, where a bruise would surely appear. Seraph staring, in shock at him. The Oracle with her hand to her mouth, and Sati peering in. Smith stared at his fist, breathing deeply.
Then he too was shocked.
"See...Things like you never change." Seraph whispered.
Smith looked over at the Oracle, fear in her eyes. And Sati, running out of his view. Seraph, staring with hatred. Fear he once welcomed, now he wanted to go away.
"No..." He whispered, but no one heard.
He couldn't take this anymore. No more anger staying here. No more forcing to do chores. No more little girl telling him it will be a good morning. No more accusing from a fallen Angel named Seraph.
He couldn't take this. He couldn't be with these people, these programs so different from him. He couldn't stay with the smells and noises. This was too much. This anger, this punch, was it. No more.
No more mocking from a city and sky that he once owned. No more cookies! No more anything! No more of this anger, this pain, that brought back the memories! How many years trapped within the Mainframe? How much anger and pain? How many torturing thoughts of freedom?
Mr. Anderson was coming to get him.
With this punch, a punch he was able to do so easily, with this punch, the pain came back.
And he wanted to scream for it to go away.
Then Smith began to run away. He ran for the door, pushing it open with his shoulder, and running to the doors.
"Smith! Smith, no! They'll kill you!" The Oracle screamed.
You say you want me, but they are lies as well, he thinks closing the door to the stairs. The Oracle ran to her door, and saw him leave. And Seraph stood in the hallway, holding back a smile from the Virus running away, finally leaving them alone.
"Get him! Go and get him!" The Oracle yelled. "He'll be killed by the Agents!"
Seraph finally smiled.
"I know." He replied.
Just keep running. Just keep running. They won't have time to find you if you keep running. No time to look at you. No time to notice. Just keep running away.
He ran through the streets of the city, covering his face and ears, holding back the smells. Not allowing anyone to see him. Just think he was another man in a suit, nothing more than that. Nothing more now. Just running away.
He didn't look at them. He didn't want to see their faces, all looking the same. Such a variety of human kind, looking nothing but the same. Just like he once was. The same, same with every other copy. He didn't look at them, bending down his head, and pushing through the crowds.
His skin almost burning by the touch of them.
"Hey, watch where you're going!"
They scream at him, as if he were nothing, as if he were not a threat. But he wasn't anymore.
Smith closed his blue eyes, and kept running. Just keep running. Run away from them. The smells and noises, a fallen angel, and a misguided Oracle. Just keep running. Run away from the them all. Away from the Mainframe. Away from the returning Mr. Anderson. Running away from so much.
Maybe Mr. Anderson wouldn't be able to find him. Maybe if he ran far enough, maybe if he was alone. Maybe in the darkness, closing his eyes. Maybe cutting himself to make the pain go away...
He remembered this place, how could he forget. Memories surrounding this place. This place where it ended, and began. Room 303, with Mr. Anderson's blood on the wall, and a phone to the side.
This place, where he died, and came back. Where Mr. Anderson went inside him. Both times. This place where he once stood in the safety of his copies, watching the one copy fight with Mr. Anderson, destined to win, then destined to lose.
This place, where The Oracle found him.
Smith stumbled as he entered, this place where so many bad memories come. He stopped and looked down to his feet. And saw them.
His sunglasses.
He would have smiled, he would have allowed himself to feel joy, if not the pain were here with him. He bent down, and held them in his hand, staring at them. These sunglasses that evolved with him, that were with him. Sunglasses, hiding his eyes, hiding him from seeing the truth.
He squeezed them, and lowered his head to them, wishing everything would go away.
Smith knew they might come. The Agents might come for him. He knew how it worked. The Matrix continually scanning for glitches and anomalies, finding any and telling the Agents how to proceed. He remembered how it worked, he was an Agent after all a long time ago. He remembered. He knew they would come. But at this point, it was irrelevant.
Let them come. Let them kill you. You're dead anyway.
Smith crawled to the corner, his sunglasses being held gently in his bandaged, damaged hands. He huddled up in the shadow of the wall. And closed his eyes.
Mr. Anderson was coming for him.
He couldn't do it. With all that power, he still couldn't do it. All that power, hiding the fact how emotional he and all the copies acted. The power hiding the anger. The power blinding them all from the truth.
They were all going to die. He was going to die.
"It was a trick...It was a trick...A trick..." He whispers to himself.
It was a trick, he is sure. He saw himself win. Then he saw himself die. It was trick though. All a big trick.
But it wasn't. And he died. He tried to change his future, his destiny, now look at him. Laying on the floor, only sunglasses to comfort him.
He couldn't change his future. And he still couldn't, such a power beyond all.
"Mr. Anderson...Please..."
Pleading to the dead.
Mr. Anderson was coming. Mr. Anderson was going to kill him. This was his future, and he still couldn't change it.
"Please..."
So he pleaded to the dead, to spare him. But he knew not even the dead were going to listen to him. If he could change this, he would. If he could make it okay, better, if he could repair it, he would. Smith held back what he assumed were tears, as he held his sunglasses tighter.
"Get up..." He told himself. "You have to get up..."
But he didn't, as he kept his eyes close, afraid to see the world around him. And Smith, began to cry.
And he hated it.
If he could make the smells and noises go away, he would. If he could leave it all behind, he would. If he could forget his past, start a new, he would. He wanted to so much. Just to make it all stop. Just to allow him what he always wanted. To be. Just to be, and be free.
Then wishing, pleading, and commanding, Smith drifted into the darkness of sleep, not wanting to awake to another day.
Next Chapter: Thank You