It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year since I had died, a moment in which I’ve relived countless times since then. That dark Spring night, the dismal moon shining its light from up above. The mocking company of various gravestones around me, watching me, adding me to their morbid collective. The enthralling void of death inviting me, squeezing out and picking at my very soul to somewhere where no light ever shines. It was at that very moment when I realized that I would go to neither Heaven or Hell. For the past year I’ve lived without any fear or hope. I lived with nothing, no eyes to see or ears to hear, my mind only capable of thinking to myself. I heard my own screaming, my own tormented voice echoing out into the eternal darkness. But no one heard it.
And I think back to the void that had brought me there. How I felt my own neck suddenly rip itself open, tearing through my flesh. It was over as quick and abruptly as it had began, but every second felt like an eternity. My own head coming apart before the watchful eye of the moon; ever so slowly, ever so agonizingly. My head twisted to the side as it unraveled, my skin just barely connecting it to my neck, and I saw that raticate’s grave there as well. Is this what you wanted, I asked with my heart loudly pounding in my chest. I’m so sorry, for everything I have done. And everything went black.
I heard Tyrin scream, crying out to me through his own agony. I heard how unsure whether he should be relieved at my death or not. I wished he had never met me. I still wish that I didn’t drag him into any of this. And a year later, after he brought me back, I see that he still is haunted by everything that had happened.
I look into his burning red eyes and I see myself within them, the curse. He had changed so much, and I knew that he’ll never be the same sylveon that met me at the lake any longer. It was after his killing of the zigzagoon when I began to see this. When I saw the scared creature looking deep into my eyes, and saw the sylveon’s in them. His mouth was still agape when Tyrin hauled the corpse back with us to our new home, silently asking me why. Why couldn’t I save him. This answer I still haven’t figured out to this day.
Tyrin made quite a number on the carcass, picking bone and scraps of flesh off of it until only a mere pile of both were left, unrecognizable as having once been a living, breathing thing. It was mostly the ribs, as Tyrin did not want to have the the ribcage be caught inside of him and tearing into his stomach. Instead, he had bitten off the skin around it. He never did this around me, knowing how queasy and disgusted I was with the whole ordeal. Knowing that I was still a kid, one who had just came back from the dead.
There were some days where his cheerfulness seemed… faked. This only grew ever since I put him on the diet. I noticed through his facade that he had grown into being more bitter and malcontent with my choice, though he complied with it. I did warn him that it wasn’t going to be easy, me of all people would know. Still, he never raises his voice at me, and apologizes at any given moment when he thinks he said the wrong thing or bumped into me by accident, making sure that I was okay. He usually smiled when he was around me, and meant every word he said about how much he cared about my well-being, but I knew that he was still suffering greatly inside on an emotional level. Of what I always felt.
Even with it lifted, I was still a curse all the same. It was then I found myself still in the void, trapped for an unknown length of time. That my voice was still crying out and falling on the deaf ears of the dark. It was then I realized that I am what I’ve always been: lonely.
Written by Flaky
Chapter four of And Hell Will Follow Me