Takes place in: Month I - Day 16.
Fifteen days. One of them was even full of murder and surprises.
Far too long for him.
And there were still many more to go.
A blonde young man sat on the fifth Level of the Tower. A scowl present on his face.
Pablo was not a happy man. He hadn't been for years. That wouldn't change, ever, he knew. He spent time with things he loved so the anger would go away, but it came back just the same; quick, unending and directed at the woman he knew, KNEW, was responsible for it all.
Now he was in Hell. Perhaps he had, no, he WAS selfish, perhaps he was angry, perhaps he was far from the greatest person ever. But he was still alive.
He shouldn't be in Hell. Not yet.
Pablo didn't care if this got his cousin in more shit. Carlos had WILLINGLY given everything up for the family as a whole, even if Pablo wished he had excluded his mother. He knew he was being a petty little shit, but he didn't care.
Another message popped up.
Pablo wasn't going to mention that his phone had been the only one to survive. Or that it could contact his buddies topside. No one needed to know anyway. They would want to know how and they could get attention brought to the wrong person. Pablo wasn't going to risk it.
He sent a message back.
It was probably not a good idea to be on the fifth Level. The rust constantly falling down was a danger, he knew. It probably was hurting him inside. Or perhaps not? Magic was strange. Either way, no one else came up here, at least for now.
That is how Pablo wanted it. They could all fucking mingle with the denizens of Hell. All Pablo wanted was for this to go smoothly.
He'd bide his time. If he had to be here, then he could be patient. But he WOULD get out. He would get out and he would get even. Screw what the others thought. He had given up more than enough already and he wasn't going to keep doing it anymore.
Everyone had turned their backs on him, even his brother.
Well. They wanted to be that way? Their choice. Pablo was not going to rot in Hell for the rest of his life. Heaven had beef? Well, not with him. At worst they would come for HIM after they were done with everyone else. And if there was one thing Pablo counted on, it was how resilient and bullheaded his family was. By the time Heaven found out he was gone, that there was one missing, they wouldn't care. He wasn't 'of the blood' so fuck it. He had his own ambitions, even if no one else would likely react in any other way but badly if they were to learn of them.
He was aware. Even before all this happened, he knew that no one would be okay with what he was doing. So what? There was ONE truth in life: It *hates* you. It pushes you to the brink. Life tries to bring you down. The only way to find happiness is to fight back and make it submit to you.
And Pablo knew how. He needed either money, power, or both combined. Perhaps his friends back on Earth didn't have that, but they had been searching and planning. Pablo had been very involved in their doings. All he needed to do was get back and make sure the transaction would happen without a hitch.
His family didn't know about how much he had done behind closed doors. And now? Now he didn't care to ever bring them into it.
Pablo would get back. He would get what was owed. He would live the easy life. But only if he made sacrifices for it. That did not scare him, it hadn't for the longest time now. What made him fear… was staying here. So he would take the first ticket out of here that he could get.
This was a damn promise.
It was just a shame that he was alone, that his anger was taking a hold of him. Hadn't he been away from the others things could have turned much different. It was not hard to see what was circling him; a form not his own, dragging out from within the young man. It had been happening for a long time now, when he was alone, when he did all of this scheming, planning and thinking horrible thoughts by his lonesome. Soon there would be nothing of who Pablo once was.
And the worst part? By now he knew. He had seen the thing. He just didn't care. He could stop it all, but why do it? This served his desires, and that is all he cared about.
Hate, like any other emotion, once it controls you, leads only to pain. You may think it aids, only for one day to have a very rude wake up call.
But hubris tends to say: If you are in control, nothing will go wrong.
Control was the one thing Pablo did not plan to ever lose again.
You know what? He was right. Because you cannot lose what you don't have.