Hey, guys! I have some iffy news, unfortunately. A while back, I got a rather uncomfortable message from a member of Critics United, telling me that they'd have to report this fic for being in second person if I didn't change it.

I really don't have the patience to change the POV of an entire, 20,000+ word story. I dunno if it will get taken down or not, BUT. I made a tumblr blog specifically for fanfiction! So, if this does get taken down (or even if it doesn't, really, the blog is a bit easier to update), look to blatherkatt . tumblr . com (minus the spaces) and you'll find not only this whole fic, but some other oneshots and drabbles here and there. I take suggestions on that blog as well! Sorry to be redirecting you guys like this, I just don't want this story to disappear on you before I get the chance to say anything about it.

So without further ado: ERMAGHERD UPDERT

You're really starting to wonder if this weird world even has an end, or if this path just goes on forever.

You're still dead set on getting out of here. That much hasn't changed. No matter how much the jagged rocks slice through the bottoms of your feet like glass, no matter how much the wounds from where the thorns bit through your skin ache and bleed, no matter how much the heat scalds your face and hands, you have no intention of dying here. But god damn, the way you're headed just keeps going, like a toddler on a big gulp's worth of energy drinks, and it only seems to get more treacherous. The world is no longer shaped by red sand dunes. Up ahead, you can see great red crags, the dark lightning writhing and snapping around them, and it looks like that's where the path is bound to lead you.

You stop and rest a few times in the beginning, to ease your aching, bleeding feet, but every time you do, you hear a distant roaring, and see trees out of the corner of your eye, and get right the fuck back up and run for a few minutes. It only takes three incidents like this for you to decide to just pace yourself and that rest stops are a bad fucking idea anyway when you've got a demon on your tail.

All too soon, you reach those crags, and realize the path goes up them. Vertically. Straight up. You decide that if you ever meet the unfunny bastard who made that little landscaping decision, you're going to punch them in the fucking jaw. They'll be seeing so many stars, they'll think they're going supernova in the milky fucking way. You stare up at it for a moment. It looks like there are handholds, so you guess you're supposed to climb. You really don't want to climb. You'd rather keep walking in agonizing misery if that's alright with the universe. There are a million things you'd rather do besides climbing this fucking wall, like ripping out your own tonsils and using them as weapons against the devil creature. Okay, that's a lie, you don't want to fight that thing again, but climbing is a close second on the extensive list of Things You Really Do Not Want To Do Right Now. You look to your left and to your right.

Blinding white nothingness on both sides of the path.

You've stopped too long. You can hear snarling and crashing behind you. Time to start climbing.

You groan and hoist yourself up on the first small ledges, digging in with your feet, ignoring the sharp pains of the rocks rubbing your already gashed hands and feet in all the wrong ways. You are pretty sure you have reached a level of unbearable agony so great you just can't seem to truly care anymore. All of your fucks have been coated in tears, put in a basket, and set out into a raging sea, and you can only watch as the waves overtake them and they sink down, lost forever. That's it, you are done. You have no more fucks to give. In fact, someone should be giving YOU fucks to make up for this amazing lack of them.

The top of the cliff doesn't seem to be getting any closer. If anything, it seems to be getting farther away with every inch higher you pull yourself. You narrow your eyes at it an half-growl. You're sore, hot, being chased by some rabid demon, and you are so not in the mood for more of this world's assholery. That cliff top is going to stay in one goddamned place long enough for you to climb over it. And it is going to appreciate that you even bothered to climb it at all and play this game with the slightest amount of effort. Because you are really fucking sick of this shit.

Your internal monologue of rage is rudely interrupted by the sound of harsh panting behind you. And it is way too fucking close.

You take a big gulp of air and climb as fast as you fucking can, agonized muscles and all. There's a moment of pure panic when you slip on your own blood, but you manage to keep clinging on to the wall. The slip does have the unfortunate result of causing you to look down.

Holy shit you're really high up.

Holy shit that demon's getting close.

Holy shit you hate your life right now.

You shake your head, ignore the nervous trembling of your arms and keep climbing. You only manage to hoist yourself up a few feet, though, before that black lightning that's still crackling all over the place decides to let you know that you're well within its range by blasting the ever loving FUCK out of an outcrop not three feet away from you. You don't even stop to look at the damage, you just keep moving upward. Your heart races, pounds in your throat, but despite the rush of fear at almost getting killed, you're pissed off again. It's the same kind of anger you get whenever someone makes you watch a horror movie with him and you fall for the fucking jump scares. It's a cheap shot at a time when you're already pretty unevenly matched, and it really. Pisses. You. Off.

You're so distracted by being pissed off at everything and more than slightly nervous about the fiend at your back that you don't notice that you're almost to the top of this giant hunk of rock until your hand wraps over the top of it. You start to pull yourself up over, allowing yourself a small, exhausted grin of victory, when something with claws twists itself around your ankle.

You don't have to look to know that he caught up with you. You struggle and scream and thrash your feet, digging your hands into the unforgiving surface of the top of the rock structure, desperate for handholds that just aren't there. The faint mist that you'd almost forgotten existed twists away from your shoulders down to your ankle, floating around the demon's hand and, from the sound of his screeching, causing him some significant pain, but his grip doesn't let up. You turn your head back, see him pulling on you, either to hoist himself up or pull you down, whichever happens first. He's not ready for the first kick you aim at his face, or the second, but after the third he starts dodging, a derranged grin splitting his face despite his hand being in obvious pain. He lets out a sadistic laugh when he sees the horror in your eyes, and pulls himself up higher, slowly, menacingly, still cackling at his own little game, constantly tugging you down.

You kick out wildly at anything you can hit, you twist and squirm, but nothing seems to work, and then he's at eye level, latching onto your shirt and still laughing. In a brief moment of logic, you take the opportunity to jam your foot into his crotch as hard as you fucking can. That, at least, gets you somewhere. He flinches back with a yell, releasing his grip on you, and you scramble up and over the top faster than you would've thought possible.

You half-run, half-crawl across the short expanse that makes up the top of the cliff, pausing at the opposite edge to look at what's next. It's hotter than ever before up here, and you're not sure if the small wet patches you leave whenever you walk are from the wounds on your feet or if that's actually liquified you melting away behind you.

You don't like what you see in front of you. Off into the horizon, the path still stretches out, an even longer way below you than what you climbed to get up here. And immediately below you, climbing halfway up the cliff, is an all too familiar sight that you really thought you were fucking done with already.

Mother. Fucking. THORNS.

A shadow falls over you, and you cringe. You're trapped between a monster and a really fucking long way down. You want to jump, want to get away, anything's better than the devil-beast you've been running from, but you're frozen in place again, despite the heat, no matter how much you will your legs to move.

You swallow a lump of bile in your throat, and speak. "Let me go."

"Ain't that easy mother fucker."

"Let. Me. Go."

Staying firm and keeping your voice from shaking takes everything you've got and then some, but you do it.

"I AIN'T LETTING YOU GO NOWHERE. You turned down the only offer I gave you. SO NOW YOU AIN'T ALLOWED TO TAKE THE EASY ROAD. End of the line motherfucker."

You blink. The path goes on at the base of this cliff, does he not see that? Is he only seeing the thorns?

Does he just think you can't just climb down, or jump, even?

And you pause for a second, and it occurs to you that he's not holding you back at all. He can't hold you back. He already lost his power over you, you were just too frightened to recognize that.

You didn't create this monster. You just let it take control. Let yourself nearly get consumed by him, even, because you couldn't stop being angry at your best goddamned friend for long enough to see what the both of you were creating.

You're still angry, of course, at this world, at the heat, at the demon, but somehow...not the one who caused all of this. It's odd, but you just...aren't mad anymore. The mist circles around your neck, and then your torso, and for a moment you feel like you're in the comfort of someone's arms, and you allow yourself a faint smile.

You turn around and face the demon. His eyes are glowing, the marks on his face are oozing, he's snarling and drooling and violence reflects in his gaze, and you're not scared of him anymore. You know what you have to do, you feel like you've known all along, but you've just been too angry and stupid to notice how simple it all is.

You start to reach out a hand, but he throws out a clawed hand, locking around your throat, and you can't breathe. You hold perfectly still as he pulls you close, only an inch away from his face. He looks more deranged than ever, but you're still not afraid. Even though your lungs are screaming for air, even though you should hate him, you reach out and place a hand on the side of his face. He flinches away, for a moment, staring, and after several tense minutes, his grip loosens.

You let instinct guide your arms around his chest, and he lets go of your throat entirely. He's frozen now, he's the one who can't breathe, can't move, and you just stay there and let your forehead drop against his chest for a few seconds. His knees buckle. You both sink to the ground, and the black shadows drift off of him like ink in water, leaving just Gamzee - your Gamzee - staring bewildered for a few seconds, and then that, too, fades off into nothing.

You sit there for a moment, staring at the ground. Your chest feels kind of weird. Something in you whispers to keep going, though, because even though the red path seems to go on forever, you're almost there and you know it. Before you can stand, though, there's a great CRACK, and the stone splits all around you, and then there's nothing beneath you.

Nothing but heated air and thorns.