Chapter 11 – Don't You Dare Look Back

This is torturous

Electricity between both of us

And this is dangerous

'Cause I want you so much

But I hate your guts

I hate you

I just stood there.

Joseph was dead. I had killed him. His crimson, still warm blood pooled at my feet while I continued to stare at his maniacal-looking corpse. That smile – that insane gleam in his lifeless, damaged eyes – will forever haunt me. All I could do was gaze upon the tragedy, reminding myself of my actions; I blamed myself for it all. He had only been trying to protect me; but because of my stupidity, it had to come to this. I could have stopped it if I had just walked away.

But I didn't…and now he had to be the one to suffer the consequences…

I begged him for the forgiveness that he would never be able to give, tears pouring upon his body. The sensation of total remorse was so overwhelming that I could hardly move. I didn't know him, I didn't have to. I wondered if he was married, if he had a child. What would happen when it came time to explain what happened?

There was no use looking to him for answers.

I left him to rot. His body would decay into the furthest regions of Ruvik's consciousness never to be seen again. He would merely be a memory. A part of me wondered if it meant that he was truly dead. If it was true that we were all connected to a machine that linked us to Ruvik's mind, then would he wake with us or remain dead? Would we even wake at all? Who or what was stopping us from leaving? What was this Mobius that Ruvik had gone on about? Were they the one's responsible? I pondered this as I stumbled down the halls in a daze.

The guilt was unbearable, weighing on me to the point of suffocation. It was my fault that he was dead…that he had been corrupted in the first place.

Why should I continue on?

The moment replayed over and over in my mind like a broken record.

Joseph deserved to live. You should have been the one to die.

I stepped over a decaying corpse lying on the ground. I wanted to scream to make the thoughts stop.

It should be you left to rot in here. Who would miss you?

In the distance, a haunted howled. I could see the light from its glowing eyes around the corner. The glow of its torch illuminated its path as it took decisive steps. Slowly, it stalked down the corridor while it searched for intruders. With its back turned, I took the opportunity to dash behind a pair of crates stacked beside each other. The encounter with Joseph had left me with only one gun and my knife; unfortunately, I was now down to only a couple of shots. This meant that I needed to conserve as much ammo as possible. Once I got into position I prepared my attack. "Over here!" I shouted.

The creature turned its head and prowled towards me. I crawled around to the other side of the crates while it passed, staying out of its line of sight. It stopped upon reaching the location of my shouting and let out a perturbed hiss at my absence. Quickly, it spun around in search of my whereabouts. When the opportunity presented itself, I grabbed the haunted and jammed my knife into its cranium with a satisfying crunch. Glowing eyes transformed into a deep shade of black. The torch fell from its hand.

For a moment I held on until my hands could grasp the creature no longer. It plopped onto the floor with a loud thud. Green eyes locked on, never once looking away. The flashes returned, reminding me of every detail of Joseph's death.

His murder.

I kneeled down and yanked out the knife from its head and watched as blood dripped from the fatal wound and onto the floor. The steady plink of each individual drop enveloped the room as they echoed.

It should have been you.

I jammed the knife in once again, letting out a scream. And again. And again. I continued until I was sure that my arm could no longer move from the soreness. I looked upon my damage to find puncture wounds all over the haunted's bleeding face. I stood to my feet to back away. Joseph's lifeless grin flashed before my eyes. With shaking hands, I dropped the knife with a squeal as I realized what I had done.

All I could do was stare.

Heart pounding and breathing heavy, I stumbled to retrieve the weapon and store it back inside my pocket. I wiped away the tears that threatened to form from my eyes and turned to look away. The torch laid at my feet, somehow still burning despite falling into a pool of blood which should have subdued the flame to some degree. I carefully picked it up and held it firmly in my left hand.

The further I traveled, the darker it became. Pale moonlight through broken glass windows no longer illuminated my path, my only source of light came from the torch. I was surrounded once again by darkness – my worst fear. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, heart hammering in my chest. Shards of broken glass bottles crunched under my feet. Something growled in the distance, causing me to jump at the sudden sound. I cursed and pulled out my handgun, aiming it directly in front of me. Glowing white, beady eyes greeted me from within the blackness.

The haunted hissed as it barreled towards me, arms outstretched and ready to tear me apart. With just the one to take care of, I knew that this was yet again not a good time to waste ammo. However, this torch was my only source of light – without it, I would have to stumble blindly through the darkness. I replaced my handgun with my knife, hoping that I could at least stun it long enough to find ammunition. I dodged its swipe in my direction, taking a slash of my own at its arm. It growled in pain before it attacked again, this time managing to latch onto my wrist. Grasping onto me while I struggled to break free, it sank its teeth into my shoulder – not enough to do much damage, but enough to cause me to cry out in protest. Finally, I was able to free myself from its hold and jam the knife into its skull.

This time however, it wasn't enough. The creature remained unfazed. My eyes widened as it yanked the weapon from the top of its head and used it to slash at me. I dodged its blow with a dive to the side and landed on the ground, pain searing through me with the impact. With no other option, I whipped out my gun and fired, blowing its skull to pieces.

Once I deemed the haunted officially dead, I collapsed. Panting, I wiped away the beads of sweat that formed at my brow and threatened to trickle down my face. "They're getting stronger," I whispered to myself through jagged breaths.

But I knew that this was not the last one I would come in contact with. Torch in hand, I got into a crouched position to search the area for the supplies that I desperately needed. Finally, the familiar blue box of handgun bullets came into view upon the floor, just a few feet from where I stood. Though I was thankful to find some sort of aide, I was disgruntled to find that there were only two bullets inside. But 'beggars can't be choosers', as the old saying goes; so I hurriedly reloaded my weapon and readied myself for whatever was to come ahead. Just for good measure, I rifled through any drawer or cabinet I could to find them emptied of any contents.

Bang

I jumped, eyes widening at the sound of gunshots in the distance. Muffled footsteps patted against the floor at a rushed pace, followed by the dull thud of much heavier ones. A familiar male voice shouted a curse. "Sebastian?" I croaked, not at all desiring to run into him. The firing continued. Wham – something slammed into a wall.

Sitting in total silence while I listened to the chaos, I focused my attention on the light of the flame. Chills like the scrambling feet of insects crawled up my spine. Despite my desire to stay put, I knew that I had to keep going – even if whatever was out there found me. I held my torch out, allowing the fire to illuminate my path as I took feeble steps. The darkness was unforgiving, almost snuffing out the little light with its intensity.

To my relief, I found a door. Hesitation gripped me as I reached a shaking hand to pull the knob. The noises continued from the other side. I gulped and slowly cracked the door open.

Pale light flooded my vision, causing me to avert my eyes from the sudden intensity despite the dimness of it. Once they had adjusted, I found cloud-covered daylight streaming in through the two windows before me. The familiar, ugly creme painted brick was the first thing that caught my attention, though worn and splattered with blood. The wooden floors were filthy with a large gaping hole directly in the center of the room. Familiarity struck me like a flash of lightning – it was my grandparent's apartment.

A roaring fire crackled outside, dying embers flickering within the charred remains of what was once a support beam. The remnants of the past still lingered, albeit deteriorated by age and abandonment. Folding chairs and the small dining table still sat in their places just as I remembered. The gray couch had collapsed with the fallen floor along with the coffee table and its assortment of gaudy décor.

Taking a step, I heard the crunch of broken glass as I landed on a picture frame. I picked it up to find a picture taken of me at the age of ten, red hair flapping in the wind while I flew in the air on a swing. Letting out a sigh, I tossed the picture aside, allowing it to crash onto the floor.

I felt a lump rise in my throat which I attempted to swallow back. Being in that place was emotional to say the least, seeing as it contained both good and horrible memories.

After the confirmation of my parents' deaths, I left. Years passed, mistakes were made, some I wish that I could take back…but no matter how much I would love to wish them away, I can't. At twenty, I came to their doorstep begging for help. They were the ones who helped me pick up the pieces and made sure that I finished high school. They helped heal the wounds of a broken, dysfunctional relationship that resulted in irreversible damage and unexpected joy for another.

Long story short, I met a guy who I fell in love with – or so I thought. In the end, I was abandoned by him with a child on the way. For nine months, I did what I could to get by until the delivery. I gave her away for adoption, knowing full well that I would never see her again. There was no way I could take care of a kid; better that she end up in the hands of a loving family than with a deadbeat mom who couldn't even take care of herself. So, at the end of my rope, I found my grandparents who welcomed me with open arms despite what I had done.

A part of me wishes that I could see her now, though I know that she probably wants nothing to do with me. She would be fifteen, almost sixteen years old…The same age that I was when I made the decision to run away. I wish her the happiness that I never had…

The sound of dragging reached my ears, followed by the pounding of heavy footsteps. Tracing the noise, I found that it was out in the direction of the hallway.

As I peeked around the doorframe, I could make out a hulk-sized man dragging a sack while walking further away. He walked into the room at the very end of the corridor. It was only as he stopped to peer back behind him that I finally got the chance to truly observe. His head was replaced with an old, worn safe wrapped with rusted barbed wire. A meat cleaver was gripped in his gigantic hand, fingers curled around it with a tightened hold. He whipped around, entering the room and slamming the door behind him.

Backing away with fear, I knew that I did not want to mess with whatever that creature was. Shuddering, I decided to have a look around. Knowing my grandparents they probably wouldn't have had anything useful lying around, however it was better to be safe than sorry. I searched through the living room then made my way to the kitchen area; neither place yielded the results that I had hoped for. With a frustrated growl, I entered the opposite end of the apartment toward the direction of the bathroom and two bedrooms.

My grandparents' bedroom and bathroom were empty to my chagrin, every drawer and cabinet pulled apart as I searched. All that remained was the second bedroom – my former room. With hesitation, I reached a hand toward the knob and turned. The door creaked open. Everything within the room remained intact despite being covered in dust and grime, every object just as I had left it. It was chilling to see.

A Backstreet Boys poster clung to the wall, causing me to grin and let out a small chuckle; I had forgotten all about my former guilty pleasure. My random assortments of books were carelessly thrown in a pile near the tiny closet which once housed my clothes. The little twin bed in the corner was still made just as I had done so years ago, however a sunflower had been placed on top. I picked up the flower with a scowl and twirled the stem between my fingertips. I didn't even have to turn around to know that he was standing behind me. "Of course," I grumbled.

I sighed. "Thanks so much for the help, by the way. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we'll have to cut this little meeting short." With a wave of my hand, I flicked the sunflower onto the ground. "As you can see, I'm not in the greatest shape right now." I gestured to the fact that I was clutching my wounded side. Sure enough, I turned around to spot Ruvik.

He didn't even acknowledge my words; instead he stood on the other side of the room with a dour expression painted across his sharp features. "You continue to disappoint me, Ali," he replied with a glare, tone matching his words and demeanor. "If only you had listened. Poor little Joseph might have lived."

The statement stung. Tears of anger pricked my eyes. "You of all people have no right to talk to me like that," I growled. "I have been through hell and back with no help at all until he and Sebastian came along."

He scoffed. "You've had plenty of help."

I crossed my arms like a stubborn child, trying as hard as I could to display just how beyond perturbed I was with him. "From you? Yeah, that one time but what about the millions of times when you weren't there? What do you expect me to do?"

This did not set well with him. "That was not the only time I've aided you. If not for me, you would have been killed long ago," he practically snarled. Taking strides in my direction, I found myself backing away in response. He stopped, not at all pleased with my reaction as displayed by the flare of his nostrils. "And as for what I expect from you, I only ask that you listen. Just concede to the fact that you need me."

I scoffed at him, my own nostrils flaring as I attempted to bite back my anger. "Concede?" A bark of a laugh erupted at the very idea. "You can't possibly believe that I would just submit that easily."

He raised his arms at his sides as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It will be much easier if you just give in."

Shaking my head, I took in a deep breath. "Give in…you expect me to just give in? You obviously don't understand what kind of position you're putting me in here. If you can't understand what you have done to me – to my family," I motioned for emphasis, "then you're even crazier than I thought."

As I turned around to walk away he re-appeared right before me, latching onto my arm to stop me from moving with a grip so tight that I let out a whimper. "Your parents weren't nearly as innocent as you wish to believe," he drawled.

Grunting, I pried away at his fingers with no success. "Yes, because of Dad! Mom was innocent!" I shook my arm to break free, but he only tightened his grip. I let out a small cry in protest, not entirely due to the pain he was causing me.

Glowing eyes glowered under the shadow of his hood, appearing even more intimidating than his usual scowl. He let out an unsatisfied, "hmph," not at all pleased that I would still try to defend them after all they had done. He slowly released me and returned his hand to his side. "Not in the slightest," he hissed.

My eyes widened, lips parting as I absorbed the words. "No," I whispered while shaking my head. Anger welled inside of me to the point where I began to shake. "I am not going to listen to this."

"She abused you."

I froze. Had I heard him correctly?

My breathing quickened, heart racing. All I could do was stare at him dumbfounded, however I knew that what he said was true – even if I didn't want to admit it. I wrung my shaking hands as I recalled how much she had changed after we left the farm.

We had to start from scratch, living off of whatever we could find. For three months we stayed in a tiny apartment with my grandparents while both my mother and father looked for work. The stress had taken its toll on her already fragile state of mind, for which, she could no longer obtain her medication to ease. As a result, since my dad was always working, I was the one who received the full extent of her angered outbursts. I flinched as memories of her words to me and the pain of each lash played through my mind like a movie.

"How…how in the hell did you know that?!" I cried.

"I just do," Ruvik replied.

"No. No," I barked. "You cannot pretend to justify what you did by her actions." My breathing quickened as I fought to say the words.

His jaw clenched, brows furrowing in anger. "She beat you. All the while, your father worked over-time just to avoid coming home so he didn't have to hear your pleas for help."

Though I stayed silent, I could no longer hold back the emotions that bubbled within me as my fists began to shake at my sides. I clenched my jaw, a bead of sweat trickling down my forehead.

He stepped closer, circling me. "Using discreet methods, I was able to find your location. When I witnessed what was done – how your mother attacked you with whatever she could get her hands on, how your father refused to acknowledge it, how many bruises and scars you received and tried so desperately to conceal…" He visibly tensed, hands tightening into fists at his sides. "I could no longer allow it to continue."

I dropped the torch. With an anguished cry I pounded my fist into his chest. This action seemed to stun him; his eyes widened as he ever so slightly stumbled back. As I went to do it again he disappeared, sending me hurtling forward. From behind, ice-cold arms snaked around me, simultaneously catching me and stopping me from attacking him once more. With a tight grip, he held my back against his chest. I could feel the chill as well the ruggedness of his skin through the fabric of my uniform.

I flinched, expecting him to retaliate in anger for my behavior. He grit his teeth as he seethed, his hold on me tightening until I almost cried out from the pain. Blackened fingers dug into my chest and my stomach, forcing me to submit to his will. I struggled, fighting to break free. Soon I realized the futility of my actions and nearly collapsed in defeat. Exhaustion and hopelessness consumed me as I stood there panting, my head dropping as tears fell. His temper calmed once I had admitted defeat, grip loosening, allowing me to take in a deep inhale. His breath swept my ear as he leaned in towards it, his lips brushing against my hair. "You don't hate me," he merely stated. The tone with which he spoke the words wasn't quite as angered as before – this time it was almost as if he were merely stating a common knowledge fact.

I gulped down the lump in my throat. "You're wrong," I spat through gritted teeth.

However, the intensity of his gaze alerted me to the fact that he knew everything that I was thinking and every emotion that I was feeling; nothing could be kept secret from him when he was the one in control. He was the host, and we were the outlanders in this foreign land – intruders inside of his own domain. He turned me around and pulled me close, our noses practically touching. "You know that what I did wasn't just for my own benefit but yours as well."

I looked back into his eyes as small tears trickled down my cheeks. Already, I could feel my wall of defense crumbling beneath his silver gaze. I sniffed and darted my eyes away. "I-I don't know that," I replied, tone no longer angry but filled with bitter emotion – comparatively softened. It was a half honest response. I didn't know what to believe but a part of me wanted to believe him.

He called my bluff. "I do." He slowly released me – no doubt just to prove his point – and stepped back to give me room. This was the moment in which I was allowed to decide my own fate, however I know now that this was just a ploy. It was the oldest trick in the book – allow the victim to feel that they are the one in control, give them a choice, but really ensure that the odds are in your favor.

I, too, took a feeble step backwards and felt myself begin to break down in front of him, unable to look into those piercing eyes. He, in turn, stayed put, a mix of deliberation and his usual form of somberness painting his hardened features. Pale, scarred, and blackened arms extended allowing me to make my final choice, openly welcoming me to him. Bidding me to come forward.

Hesitation stopped me as I contemplated running away. I turned my back to him, but dared not take a step. This man that had known nothing but pain and hatred from others for most of his life had taken my family from me. And yet it wasn't entirely his fault; he thought that he was doing the right thing. After all, don't those who practice evil think that they are justified in what they do? Insane people don't think that they are insane. My father was one of the many responsible for stealing Ruvik's sanity – didn't he try to justify his actions by what the Victorianos had done to him? But all of those innocent lives he took…He felt absolutely no remorse for what he had done to them. The thoughts plagued my mind, circling and circling until I was left in a daze.

But then I turned back around to face him. I knew I should walk away, but for some inexplicable reason I found myself unable to do so. I found myself taking timid steps in his direction. My arms wrapped around themselves to give myself comfort. Without even lifting a finger, he was pulling me towards him. I drew nearer until we were only inches away. Patiently, he waited, expectant and disguising my falsely given "free will" as truth. His arms were still wide open. His eyes retained their hollow dark gleam, albeit subdued due to the moment.

As the tears fell, memories resurfaced – ones that seemed to recount the days when he and I were still in each other's good graces. And in that moment I knew…he was really the only thing I had left.

And in a moment of total weakness, I gave in to him.

Shaking fists gripped the fabric of his robe as if my life depended on it while I buried my head into the crook of his neck to bawl. He smelled of blood and burned flesh mixed with ash. Once again, I felt his hands slip around my waist. Most might have depicted it as a consoling embrace, but I knew that he felt the same need to hold on to what little shard of former happiness was left. Though his firm hold and my heaving sobs hurt my rib, I ignored the pain. My fists loosened, letting go of the edges of his robe to wrap my arms around him. Anger dissipated, leaving behind only the bitter heartache and the retched hollowness of loss. I emptied out years of distress and suffering at the hands of others; the floodgates had opened, and there was no turning back.

"You're all I've got left…," I sobbed, the pitch of my voice rising. "T-the fire didn't ruin j-just your life…I-I've lost so much too." I gripped him tighter.

His answer came as he leaned his head into my hair, forehead resting against the top of mine. His shallow, calm breath came in cool waves against my cheekbones. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my sobbing began to cease; jagged breaths escaped my lips as the tears could no longer fall. We just stayed this way, clinging to one another as if we were the other's lifeline.

I leaned into him, head resting against his shoulder, and felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against my own. Slowly, I felt myself beginning to settle into him. My head raised to look at him only to find that he stared back with tiniest hint of a satisfied smile – I had fallen into his trap. Gently, I lowered my head back into its former spot, cheek resting against his robed chest. My fingers picked at the fabric at the edge of his cloak, feeling the stiffened cloth between my fingertips.

Lips parting, I let out a grieved sigh. "Please…Don't leave me too," I begged in a whisper once I had begun to calm down, nestling myself further into him. My eyes closed as I indulged in the moment of intimacy that I knew would be all too rare.

"Never," he replied darkly as I felt his grip on me tighten possessively.

As insane as it sounded, I felt that being in his arms was the safest place of all. As long as I was with him, he would be there to protect me – I knew that now. He may not have wanted to admit it, but he needed me too.

A/N: Once again, thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed! Y'all are the best! ^^

Pearl: I know right? Poor Joseph. :( Thank you so much! :)

AnnDarkwater92: Thank you so much! That is so sweet! :) I'm so glad that you like it!

sweettea1: Wow, thank you so much! I'm really glad to hear that you liked it that much! :) Their interactions are my favorite parts of writing this story. XD So, as diabolical as you feel, I'm even more so. ^^;

I'm debating going back and rewriting the former chapters of this story. I feel like, and no one else may be able to tell, that my style has progressed quite a bit since I first started. It won't change the overall story in the slightest, however I might go back and add a few small details to clear things up. Like I said, I'm still debating it but it's quite a big possibility this summer since I won't have a job.

And just to let you know, I'm sad to say that we're nearing the end...:( We're not at the end yet, but we're getting pretty dang close. I wanted each chapter to correlate with each chapter of the game (which I need to go back and edit because I've slacked off in places). And, as you know, there are fifteen chapters in the game...Just a heads up...

Lastly, the song lyrics I used here are from 'Landfill' by Daughter.