LIES

The kitchen was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls as the fading light from outside slipped through the curtains. The table in front of Ben was littered with empty bottles—beer cans and whiskey bottles, each drained of their contents. The bitter stench of alcohol hung thick in the air, mixing with the suffocating silence that filled the room. Ben sat slumped in a chair, his head hanging low, fingers loosely clutching a bottle of whiskey, still half-full but rapidly emptying. His other hand rested on the table, trembling slightly, his knuckles white from gripping the neck of the bottle too tightly.

He didn't remember how long he'd been sitting there—days, maybe. The alcohol blurred everything, taking the edge off the pain, but it didn't erase it. It never did. No matter how much he drank, the memories still haunted him—Gwen's face, Max's laughter, the sound of their absence louder than any words. They were gone. And now, it was only a matter of time before he joined them.

A soft knock on the door cut through the silence. Ben's body stiffened, though he didn't lift his head. He didn't need to see who it was. He knew. Kai had been coming by for days, her voice filled with concern every time he ignored her calls, her messages. But this time, she hadn't left. This time, she had come to find him.

"Ben?" Her voice was soft, tentative, but laced with worry. The door creaked open, and she stepped into the dim kitchen, her eyes immediately finding him sitting at the table, surrounded by empty bottles.

"Oh, Ben…" Her words trailed off, a mix of shock and sadness. She stepped closer, her eyes scanning the mess before locking onto him.

He didn't look up, just took another swig from the bottle. The liquid burned as it went down, but the burn was good. It was something he could feel, something that distracted him from the deeper, darker ache that never seemed to leave.

Kai hesitated, her eyes filling with concern. "Ben, what are you doing?" she whispered, stepping closer, her voice trembling slightly. "You've been drinking for days. You won't answer my calls. I—I'm scared for you."

Ben finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. The room swayed slightly as he glanced at her, standing there, her face filled with worry, with love. A love he didn't deserve anymore.

He let out a bitter laugh, setting the bottle down with a clink. "What does it look like I'm doing?" His voice was rough, hoarse, slurred from both the alcohol and the heavy weight in his chest. "I'm trying to forget."

Kai's eyes softened, and she moved toward him, kneeling beside his chair. She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm, but he flinched at the contact. "Forget what?" she asked softly. "Ben, please… talk to me. I know you've been through so much, but this isn't the answer. You're just hurting yourself."

Ben leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The alcohol buzzed in his veins, but it wasn't enough to drown out the guilt, the crushing responsibility he carried. It had been his fault. Gwen. Max. And now, this.

"I can't… I can't do this anymore, Kai," he muttered, his voice cracking with the weight of his words.

Kai's eyes widened, her expression shifting from worry to confusion. She stood, taking his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Ben, you're scaring me. Please, tell me what's going on."

He looked at her—really looked at her—and for a moment, he almost broke. Her face, her eyes, so full of innocence, of love, of hope. She didn't know. She didn't know the truth, and that was the only thing he could give her now—keeping her in the dark, protecting her from the ugly reality of what was happening to him.

Ben pulled away from her touch, his movements abrupt, his voice rising with frustration. "You don't understand!" he snapped, standing unsteadily, his hand knocking over a few of the empty bottles as he moved. "You don't know what it's like, Kai. You can't possibly understand what I'm going through."

Kai stepped back, startled by the sudden shift in his tone, but she didn't retreat. "Then tell me," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Help me understand. I love you, Ben. I can't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself."

He wished it were that simple. God, he wished he could believe her, could hold onto her and let her carry some of the weight. But that would be selfish. He couldn't risk her getting hurt—not like Gwen, not like Max. And the thought of her wasting her life, her youth, watching him wither away, the life draining out of him day by day… he couldn't do that to her.

"Destroy myself?" Ben laughed bitterly, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. His eyes were wild, filled with anger, guilt, and the unbearable truth he couldn't tell her. "I'm already destroyed, Kai. I've been falling apart for a long time, and you… you're better off without me."

Her face crumpled, and she took a step closer to him, shaking her head. "Don't say that. Please, don't say that. We've been through so much together. Whatever's happening, we can get through it. We can get through anything, Ben, if we just—"

"No," Ben interrupted, his voice harsh, his words slurred with alcohol and desperation. "You don't get it. I can't protect you. I couldn't protect them—Gwen, Grandpa Max—and now, I'm a mess, Kai. I'm toxic. I'm poison, and if you stay… you'll end up just like them. All I touch turns into ash." His voice cracked, the weight of everything finally breaking through his defences.

Kai's tears were falling freely now, her voice cracking with emotion. "Ben, you're not poisonous. You're hurting, and you've been through so much, but you're not alone. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Ben clenched his fists, his body trembling as he fought to keep himself from collapsing under the weight of his emotions. "You don't know what you're saying," he whispered, his voice raw. "I'll destroy you, too. I'm doing this for you, Kai. You deserve better than this… better than me."

Her hands reached for him again, but he stepped back, his breathing ragged. "Please don't do this," she begged, her voice shaking. "I love you, Ben. Whatever you think you're saving me from, you don't have to. We can face this together."

But Ben shook his head, the tears finally spilling over. He couldn't let her stay. He couldn't watch her innocence crumble as the truth of what was happening to him stole everything from her. He had to make her leave, even if it broke both of them.

"I don't love you anymore," he whispered, the lie heavy and bitter, burning worse than the alcohol ever had.

The lie tasted like bile in his mouth, acidic and wrong. It shattered something in her instantly, and he could see it in her eyes. The way the light left them, the way she sagged as if the world had just collapsed in on her. She didn't believe him—not fully—but the weight of his words crushed her all the same.

Kai froze, her breath hitching as the words sank in. Her eyes searched his, desperate to find some glimmer of the truth, some sign that he didn't mean it, but he forced himself to hold her gaze. He had to make her believe it.

"Ben…" Her voice cracked, her heart breaking in front of him. "Don't say that."

But he couldn't take it back. He had to protect her, even if it meant tearing them apart. He turned away, his voice barely audible as he muttered, "Please, just go."

"I don't need you," he forced out the last lie, every word ripping a piece of his heart out.

For a moment, the silence in the room was unbearable, filled only with the soft, distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint clinking of empty bottles as Ben shifted in his chair. His heart pounded in his chest as he heard the quiet sobs coming from Kai, still standing near the door. He forced himself to look away, biting back the guilt gnawing at him, knowing he had to push her away, no matter how much it hurt.

But Kai wasn't ready to give up. She stepped closer again, her voice breaking as she pleaded one last time. "Ben… please," she whispered, her words thick with emotion. "I don't care how broken you think you are. I love you. I'll fight for you… for us. Just don't do this. Don't push me away."

Her voice cracked, and she reached out, her hand trembling as it hovered near his arm. "I can't lose you too," she choked, her tears falling freely now. "Please…"

Something inside Ben snapped. Her words, her touch—it was too much. The pain, the guilt, the crushing weight of it all, mixed with the alcohol burning through his system, blurred his thoughts. He couldn't handle it anymore. He couldn't take the way she still believed in him, the way she clung to him with hope, when all he felt was the inevitability of his own destruction.

In a sudden, violent burst of frustration, he slapped her hand away. But the movement didn't stop there. His control gone, he swung his hand and struck her across the face.

The sound of the slap echoed through the room, louder than anything. Kai stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock, one hand flying to her cheek where his hand had connected. Time seemed to freeze, the aftermath of the strike hanging heavy in the air. Ben stood there, frozen in place, his hand still raised, his breath ragged as he realised what he'd done.

For a second, everything stopped. Kai stood still, her body trembling, her tears now mixed with the disbelief and hurt painted on her face. Ben's heart shattered into pieces as the weight of his actions crashed down on him, a wave of regret so intense that he felt like he was suffocating. He wanted to take it back, to reach out to her and pull her into his arms, to tell her how sorry he was, how much he still loved her. But he didn't. He couldn't.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay cold, to stay distant. He couldn't let her see the regret, the pain, the love he still held for her. He needed her to leave, to believe that this—him—was beyond saving.

Kai took a step back, her eyes brimming with fresh tears, her hand still on her cheek where his palm had connected. She didn't say anything at first, the shock of what had just happened still sinking in. But then, through her trembling lips, she whispered, "Ben…"

Her voice was soft, almost broken, and it tore through him like a knife. He forced himself to turn away from her, his back to her as he stood there, rigid, fighting the urge to fall apart.

"Go, Kai," he muttered, his voice hoarse, barely audible. He couldn't face her. He couldn't look at her and see the pain he'd caused. "Please… just leave."

For a moment, she stood frozen, her breath coming in shallow, shaky gasps. She searched for some sign that this wasn't real—that the man she loved hadn't just hit her, hadn't just told her to go. But Ben kept his back to her, his body stiff, refusing to let her see how much this was destroying him.

"Ben…" she tried again, her voice shaking, but it was no use. The crack between them had become a chasm, and no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much she wanted to save him, he wouldn't let her.

Finally, she let out a soft, broken sob and turned toward the door. Her footsteps echoed in the small kitchen, the sound of her retreat cutting through the haze of alcohol and regret that clouded Ben's mind. He didn't watch her leave, but he heard the door click softly behind her.

And just like that, she was gone.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Ben stood there, his hands shaking, his breath shallow as the weight of what he had done crashed down on him. His mind screamed at him to chase after her, to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, to tell her the truth—that he still loved her, that he was sorry, that he never meant to hurt her.

But he didn't move.

He couldn't.

Instead, Ben sank back into his chair, his body heavy with the weight of his choices. His head fell into his hands as the tears he had been holding back finally came, hot and painful. The whiskey bottle on the table caught his eye, and for a moment, he reached for it, his fingers trembling as they wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

But this time, the alcohol wouldn't help. Nothing would.

He had pushed away the only person who still believed in him, the only one who might have saved him from himself. And now, he was truly alone.

Ben clenched his fists, swallowing hard, forcing down the sob that threatened to escape. He couldn't let it show. Not to her. Not to anyone. He had made his choice. He had to live with it.

And as the final remnants of Kai's presence faded from the room, Ben sat in the suffocating silence, drowning in the regret he had no way to undo.

He had lost her.

And now, he was lost too.

Now, in the aftermath, all he could feel was rage. Rage at himself. Rage at the Omnitrix. Rage at the universe for turning him into this—a broken shell of the person he used to be.

With a guttural scream, Ben launched himself at the kitchen table. His hands grabbed the half-empty bottle of whiskey, and in a fit of blind anger, he hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, the sound of breaking glass reverberating through the small space as the amber liquid splattered everywhere.

But that wasn't enough.

His rage demanded more destruction.

He grabbed the empty beer cans, the bottles, anything within reach, and began flinging them across the room, the clatter and crash of metal and glass filling the space. Each smash, each shattering object felt like a momentary release, but the anger wouldn't go away. It only grew, swelling inside him like a storm about to consume him whole.

The Omnitrix hummed on his wrist, an ever-present reminder of the curse that had ruined everything. Ben's eyes locked onto it, his face twisted in fury.

He slammed his fist into the kitchen counter, the impact sending a jolt of pain up his arm. He welcomed it. The pain was real. It was something he could feel—something to remind him he was still alive, even though every part of him wished he wasn't.

Again and again, he brought his fists down onto the counter, the dull thud of flesh on hard surface mingling with the sharp sting in his knuckles as they split open, blood beginning to smear across the countertop. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. The rage was too much. It was all-consuming.

With another primal scream, Ben turned and punched the wall, the force of the blow sending a crack through the drywall. Blood smeared across the surface as his knuckles split further, but he didn't care. He punched again and again, each hit fueled by his hatred for the Omnitrix, for what it had done to him, what it had taken from him.

Gwen. Max. Kai.

Their faces flashed in his mind with each punch, the memories of their laughter, their smiles, now haunting him like ghosts. His body trembled with the sheer force of his emotions, the wall crumbling under his fists, his own body breaking with it.

He staggered back, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the floor. The kitchen was in ruins—broken glass, shattered bottles, bloodstains, and splintered drywall. His hand throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the fire raging inside him.

Without thinking, Ben grabbed at the Omnitrix, clawing at it, trying to rip it from his wrist. But it wouldn't budge. It was fused to him, a permanent reminder of everything he had lost. He slammed it against the counter, again and again, the metal scraping and sparking under the force of his blows, but it remained unbroken, still humming, still glowing.

The Omnitrix had taken his family, his future, and now, it had taken Kai too. There was nothing left. Just the pain. Just loneliness.

Ben lay there, his bloodied hands shaking, his body curled up on the cold, hard floor. The hum of the Omnitrix was the only sound in the room now, an eerie, ever-present reminder of the monster he had become.

As the weight of his choices, his failures, and his shattered life pressed down on him, Ben finally closed his eyes, letting the darkness swallow him whole.

The last thing he heard was the faint, taunting hum of the Omnitrix as it pulsed against his skin, a cruel reminder that it owned him.

It always had.

Later that night. The bathroom was dimly lit, the single flickering bulb casting long shadows across the tiles. The air was thick with humidity, and the faint scent of mildew clung to the walls, but Ben barely noticed. He lay submerged in the bathtub, the water cool and still around him. His body felt weightless, as though he were floating in some endless, suffocating void.

His eyes were open, staring blankly at the surface above him, where the light refracted through the water, creating ripples of distorted shapes and colors. The sound of his own slow, rhythmic breathing filled his ears, muffled by the water, as if it were the only sound left in the world. It was quiet here. Quiet, and still.

But beneath the surface, everything churned. The water around him was a metaphor for what he truly felt—a suffocating, inescapable pool of guilt, trauma, and despair. He could feel it, creeping into his lungs, pressing against his chest. He was drowning, not in water, but in the weight of his own existence.

The memories replayed in his mind, over and over—the moments of failure, the faces of those he had loved and lost. Gwen. Max. Kai. Their absence felt like a raw wound that would never heal. He had pushed them all away, believing he was protecting them, but in the end, he was the one left alone. And now, with nothing left, he had made a decision.

Slowly, Ben sat up in the bathtub, water dripping from his hair, his skin cold and pale. He blinked, his vision blurry from the time spent beneath the surface, but his mind was clearer now, colder. The despair had settled into something final, something he couldn't escape.

His eyes drifted to the edge of the bathtub, where the object that had been sitting there for hours still waited. A handgun. His reflection stared back at him from its polished surface, a distorted, hollow version of himself. He reached for it, his hands trembling slightly, water dripping from his fingers as they wrapped around the cold metal.

The cool metal felt familiar, almost comforting in his hand. It was a solution—a way to end the constant cycle of guilt, trauma, and pain that had hollowed him out from the inside. He didn't care about the mess it would leave behind. He had no one left to clean it up anyway.

But as Ben raised the gun and pressed the cold barrel against his chin, the air around him grew colder. The room seemed to darken, the light above flickering for just a moment. His breath caught in his throat, his finger hovering over the trigger, when a soft, distorted whisper filled the air.

"Ben..."

The voice was faint at first, like a distant echo. But then it grew louder, sharper, creeping into his mind like a slow, freezing chill.

"Ben..."

His heart lurched, his finger slipping from the trigger as his eyes darted around the room. He knew that voice. He had heard it a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. But this time, it wasn't warm. It wasn't familiar. It was something else—something twisted.

"Ben..." The voice came again, louder now, laced with accusation. It echoed from everywhere and nowhere, curling around him, suffocating him with its familiarity.

His pulse quickened as his gaze flickered to the corner of the bathroom, where the shadows had deepened, darker than they had any right to be. And then, slowly, a figure began to take shape.

It was Gwen. Or at least, it looked like Gwen.

Her figure was barely there, shimmering in the dim light, her features distorted, stretched in unnatural ways. Her red hair was limp, falling in ragged strands around her pale, sunken face, her eyes hollow and empty, filled with something dark, something accusatory. Her body was covered in shadows, her outline flickering like a broken image in an old, warped mirror.

Ben's breath hitched as he froze, staring at her. The gun slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the tiled floor with a loud, metallic ring, but he didn't move to pick it up. He couldn't. His body was paralyzed, gripped by the sheer terror of what he was seeing.

"Why did you let me die, Ben?" The words slithered out of Gwen's mouth, twisted and wrong, the sound like nails on glass. Her eyes bore into him, hollow and dead. "You were supposed to protect me."

Ben's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "No... I didn't... I didn't mean to—"

"You let me die," Gwen hissed, her voice distorting, growing darker. "You let all of us die."

Her body shifted, flickering like a dying flame, growing taller, more grotesque. Her limbs stretched unnaturally, her features becoming more twisted, her mouth curling into a cruel, unnatural smile. "And now, you think you can just end it?" she spat, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You think you can escape the guilt? The pain?"

Ben shook his head, his hands trembling as he tried to back away, but the tub held him in place. The cold water clung to his skin, making every breath feel tighter, heavier. "No… I just… I can't do this anymore…"

The apparition of Gwen stepped closer, her feet not touching the ground, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. Her eyes, dark and empty, locked onto his, never blinking. "You think you can just leave? After everything you've done? After everything you've failed to do?"

The temperature in the room dropped even further, the cold biting into Ben's skin, but he barely noticed it. His heart raced as his eyes stayed fixed on Gwen's distorted form. Her face flickered, shifting into something unrecognisable, her once familiar features warped and wrong.

"We trusted you," she hissed, her voice echoing with multiple tones, as though more than one person was speaking through her. "Max, me… we believed in you."

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands to his ears, trying to block out the voice, but it was everywhere, clawing its way into his mind. "Stop… please… stop…" he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

But Gwen's voice grew louder, more menacing. "You let us die, Ben. You let us rot. You abandoned us, just like you're abandoning yourself now."

He opened his eyes, and Gwen's face was inches from his own, her eyes black voids, her mouth twisted in a cruel sneer. "Do it, Ben," she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. "Pull the trigger. Finish what you started."

Ben's breath came in shallow gasps as he stared into her empty eyes, his entire body trembling with fear. The gun was still within reach, just inches from his hand. His fingers twitched, reaching for it, but he couldn't move any further.

"I… I can't," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"Coward," she spat, her voice a sharp, jagged sound that made his heart lurch. "You always were."

Tears welled in Ben's eyes as the weight of her words crashed over him, suffocating him with guilt, with fear. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry…"

Gwen's twisted face loomed over him, her mouth opening wide, an unholy, inhuman scream tearing through the room, echoing off the tiles, making the very walls shake. Ben's hands shot to his head, his ears ringing from the sound, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"You can't escape this," she shrieked. "You can never escape!"

Suddenly, the lights flickered again, and then, as quickly as she had appeared, Gwen vanished. The room was still once more, the air thick with the weight of what had just happened. Ben's body slumped in the tub, his chest heaving, his heart pounding in his ears.

The gun lay on the floor, forgotten, as Ben stared ahead, his mind spinning, his body trembling. He felt hollow, broken, his soul weighed down by the guilt that would never leave him. The fear, the trauma—it had consumed him, twisted everything inside of him.

But even now, even after everything, he couldn't do it. He couldn't pull the trigger.

The shadows clung to him, dark and suffocating, as Ben sat in the cold, still water, haunted not just by the ghosts of the past, but by himself.

There was no escaping it. There never would be.