A week had already passed.
His little lovcraftian conjuncture affected him more than he expected.
He spent his days in delirium, muttering things and rambling like a madman, and when he wasn't vomiting words, and sometimes actual vomit, conscious would escape him and he would slumber throughout the day.
He didn't remember most of it honestly, thankfully pandora put up with it and took good care of him. He was always thankful for that.
She never once questioned why he was talking like a lunatic nor how he went comatose for three days straight. She simply ignored his ravings like some kind of weird, twisted therapeutic sessions. He did appreciate that.
He didn't want to admit it, but he kind of liked the company and presence of pandora. It allowed him to feel less alone.
to stop pretending that he could be normal. to not have to feel ashamed about what he was, to show his unsightly side and not be afraid of rejection.
If only he could just be happy again.
He had tried so hard, trying to forget what happened and get back to his old self, but it seemed like something inside of him was broken. He felt tired, not physically, but it's as if his soul was breaking to pieces and all he knew to do was to put tape on it to hold it together, but with every time the tape is removed, a part of him gets removed with it.
So staying with her not having to put on a facade, not having to keep up the mask of the fool. It was nice.
He knew it wouldn't last much longer anyway.
Because Subaru was done with this, he was done with this world, he was done with everything, he was tired, he was in no state to go on like this anymore, he had to make a decision, something had to change, and for that he needed resolve.
He was thinking, reflecting about the past, his friends, the trials, the loops, his mistakes, his sins, as he was contemplating he found it ironic.
He found it funny, it was downright hilarious, how he got whipped mercilessly for every single mistake he made.
While his friends got to walk Scot-free, no even that is putting lightly, they didn't even have to bear the weight of their sins, because he would have to loop back, go back in time, face the cold and harsh punishment imposed on him by his tyrannical and sadistic warden, a sanction limited only to Subaru, one known as RDB.
And the world would forget him again, but he would remember, the sins, the blood on his hands, the guilt crushing him from the inside, his and their sins forever carved in his soul.
In what world was that fair?
It wasn't, maybe this was the point? After all, this world was a hell designed specifically for him.
He hated it, he hated them.
He knew most of it wasn't their fault, but still, what about him?
What about his feelings?
Why did he have to hide them? to keep them bottled inside him? to keep them suppressed until they burst? Why was he even here? If it weren't for him, none of them would be here now, alive.
It was unfair.
To make all of them suffer because of him. But at the same time, they made him suffer. They made his life a living hell. Literally, he still wasn't sure whether it was intentional or not.
' the writer, the engineer, the eldritch god with a writer's fever, he's the one, he forced them to, it's not their fault, well at least not directly, he manipulated them or convinced them, either or, does it really matter at this point? ' a voice whispered in his ear.
With a vocal akin to an old man on his last breath, sounding so tired and laboured that it would not be so shocking that even a slight gist of wind, would be the final nail in his coffin.
That hoarsely voice was his.
Was that really how he sounded? The thought of not being able to recognize his own voice was so terrifying that he sought to ignore the mad whispers all together.
Back to the point in hand, his friends, when he came to this world, he was delighted to not be alone anymore, to have companionship, the thought that someone genuinely cared for him, forced him to ignore all the sick and twisted things they've done to him along the way.
Especially that blue haired maid.
He remembers that day so clearly.
That dreadful day of running away from a raging blue haired oni, he remembers so implicitly hearing a faint chant of ' fula ' followed by one of the most disorienting and dreadful experiences in his life.
He was running, he was fleeing fearful for his life, and all of a sudden, he wasn't.
That's weird? The ground was getting closer, but he could swear he didn't trip on anything. How did he fall?
Once he hit the ground, he rolled on his belly and tried to get up, but he couldn't. Being confused, he looked down at his feet...Where the hell are his feet?! , he couldn't see them! , in fact it appeared that his lower half was missing from the hip down, a feeling of coldness crept into his body as his brain registered what had just occurred, his legs had vanished.
He screamed out loudly as he began clawing his upper thigh frantically with both hands as he struggled to stand up, his legs had been ripped right off him, blood began seeping down his thighs, his trousers were soaked, his white jacket stained red and covered with it's own pool of crimson. he heaved in agony as he desperately clutched at the wound trying hard to stem the flow of blood pouring from his body, he felt the bone in his stub, the cool and chilly air drove needles down his marrow, the feeling of the biting cold seeping into his bone left him flailing around from the excruciating pain.
He couldn't move his body; he was stuck on the ground, he heard steps nearing him, he saw blue.
The end was nigh.
Rem killed him.
That was all he thought of the situation, was he Afraid of her? Well no. Afraid is putting it lightly, in his own words ' it was so fucking terrifying! it so fucking scary to the point were I felt like my insides were about to become my fucking outsides! '
But did he hate her? If you asked him that question two years ago, he would've said no, even though she killed him, subaru could never hate her.
Subaru understood that it was not normal to act like that, that there was something wrong deep within him.
but still, seeing her in pain, seeing her break as she wailed for the family she once had, so even as he was being tortured by her, even as she wrung the life out of him, he still forgave her.
Not the same could be said about Ram.
The sound of wind, the faint magical chant, the feeling of losing one's lower half, the emptiness, the dreadful suspense of him waiting for his assailant to catch up to him, clutching at his thighs in hope that he could grow his legs back up, and perhaps runaway, to fade into the shadows of that cold forest.
But that did not happen.
The one who put that flimsy avidity to a stop, the one crushed his Hopes and legs, was none other than Ram.
At the time he didn't know that, he was too busy ruining himself, driving himself mad, thinking of a way to escape her sister's wrath, planning and plotting to save everyone in the mansion.
But after the ulgram incident he was forced to face the grim reality, one that he didn't want to acknowledge, that the calm and collected ram, the lazy maid with a haughty demeanour and a seemingly bottomless well of confidence, the one whose tongue was sharper than a razor, the one with an odd and endearing older sister charm.
That Ram was willing to spill his blood if it meant covering up for her sister.
But this was not only exclusive for the twins, Beatrice did something similar, she had once let him die knowing very well that he was cursed, being close by and very much capable of curing him, saving his life, yet choosing to not lift a single finger, to let him be, to let the sickness erode him from the inside, cook his organs, making a sickening mixture out of his entrails, that he kept painting the hallway floors with, until he was left Destitute and hollow, he laid there clutching his stomach and shivering from the alternating feelings of intense burning in his abdomen and the scorching cold in his chest, calling desperately for help, begging for mercy, but none of his calls would ever be answered, and so he died, hollow in both body and soul.
All his friends had done something similar, But they don't remember, of course they wouldn't, it all happened in failed loops, the world forgets, so they won't have to bear the sins nor the guilt.
he hated that, he hated it from the bottom of his heart, it was cruel, having to carry sins that no one remembers, while also not acting on feelings he developed in previous loops, and for that he hated them, he envied tham, their ignorance of their sins and the consequences, yet he never told anyone else of these thoughts, afraid of losing the companionship and respect they gave him, so instead he kept his feelings hidden deep in the pit of his stomach, locked tightly in his mind that no one will ever find out, and they never did, somehow that made feel even more hollow.
Now that he realizes that the freinds he idolised weren't as angelic as they appeared, he didn't love them any less, despite the hatred and disgust he now felt for them in the pit of his heart, he still loved them, but he won't allow their feelings to trample on his own any longer, things had to change, they will change he would be sure they would.
So with a new found resolve subaru rose up feeling a bit tipsy but definitely better than the last week, it was time to go home he decided, one last talk with Pandora, than he'll do what he has to do.
And so with a rough grin on his face and a twinkle of madness in his eyes, subaru declared in confines of his mind.
' An eldritch god with a writer's fever, I shall dub thee the name Ammutseba!, come on 'Tseba! show your good buddy plaidese what you can do, you sadistic fuck! '
author's notes.
The prologue is almost over, next chapter will be his last time in shed, things will get very exciting very soon.