His mechanical eyes surveyed his room, falling upon weapons of war. One stared back at him, sheening its black metal. It was a weapon that was similar to the one that killed him, took his humanity, and left him to die. His anger slowly built inside him, forcing its way through his mechanical chest, all the way to his balled-up fist. His mechanical voice slowly rumbled before letting out a groan of disapproval.
His anger built, boiling inside of his throat. He simply glared at it, all the while contemplating his actions leading up to this very moment. He averted his eyes off to the side of the massive weapon, letting his eyes fall on a sore place on the floor.
He focused, thinking of it all. His voice sounded out with a smooth and airy tone. "If I just work, if I just train..." his voice trailed off adding weight to the air, building the pain-filled words, running its course through everything. He slouched, allowing the weight of his thoughts to overtake his composure. Letting him sink low in his thoughts.
Slowly falling deeper into thought and plunging into sorrow. He moved towards the edge of the bed, still focusing on one small tile on the floor. He looked back up at the weapon and slowly reached up to it, trying to make amends with what had happened. His fear evolved to hate.
He clenched his fist, motioning as if he were going to swipe it away from him and force it to fall onto the floor yet he sat there, unmoving. He pulled his legs over the edge, letting them rest, staggered, and heavy. He pulled his right hand over his eyes. resting them on his face, the numbness pained him. It boiled over. Painfully, his voice sounded, still smooth yet wavering. "why?" he asked the air, "why can't I feel?" He asked once more, waiting for a response from something, anything.
He trailed off, focusing on the ceiling. "They didn't save me." He stated to the invisible, and the unknown. "They cursed me." He continued the conversation with himself. "They should have left me to rot." He spoke out, yearning for the sweet kiss of death. Yet, now that was nothing more than a lucid dream.
He opened and closed his right hand, testing to see if by some chance that he regained the sense of touch. Yet still, it was a hope that ended in disappointment. He sighed heavily, knowing that his wounds may have been mended but others were still spilling blood, and the pain that is connected to them. He laid there, living an artificial moment. Seeing through artificial eyes, and the one thing that he missed the most was lost.
He balled up on the bed, bringing his legs close to him. His artificial eyelids became heavy, yet he was far from sleep. He moved his metal hands up and down his artificial calves. He moved his right hand up to his left arm, inspecting the newfound skin that was numb. The lamp that was off to his right flickered. Sending a shadow across the room, displaying the fears within the indestructible figure laying on a bed of sorrow.
The industrial A/C unit kicked on, humming a low song. Carter rose from his bed, resting his hands on his knees. He looked over to the nightstand where the pistol was resting, a slight metallic smile crawled across his face. The light shining from the lamp reached the metallic skin of both the weapon and the man looming over it.
His eyes adverted to the ground, he closed them as he reached over for its grip. His hands closed around a weighty object. His pointer finger finding its resting place on a trigger. He pulled the object up to his temple, pointing a barrel that would draw a line right through his head. The metal began to rub against each other, causing a screech to sound out. Carter's hands were shaking, with fear and sadness.
He opened his eyes and squeezed the trigger. The bright flash was aggressive, along with the roar of the flame that scorched the metal head. His head whipped to the left, forcing him to fall onto the bed. The gun still laying in his hand, the pointer finger squeezing the trigger. His eyes brightened the ceiling with an orange glow.
He laid there, unmoving, yet still suffering. He screamed out in agony, throwing the weapon to the floor. He pulled in-breaths through false lungs and screamed through artificial vocal cords. He aggressively searched for the pistol on the floor, searching for it under the bed and by the nightstand.
His pain still beating inside, rather than the dent that showed the spot of a futile suicide. This was the only pain he could feel, and he wanted it to end. He found the loud weapon, gripping it. He pulled it out from under the bed, he grunted with exertion. He pointed it directly at his forehead staring into the barrel that met with the darkness, weakly lighting it up to the point where he could just make out the shape of a bullet.
He pulled the trigger once more, sounding out the roar and the flash. He fell back to the ground, unfazed. He screamed out once more as he crawled to the corner of his room. As he reached the dark corner that was partly filled with a weakly put together nightstand and occupied by a metal shell.
He pushed the weapon against his head, this time taking no breaks between shots. BANG... nothing...BANG... a hollow scream...BANG... still nothing...BANG...CLICK! "NO!" Carter called out to the room, Rearing up for a breakdown. He tossed the weapon to the other side of the room. The sound of a metal object skittering across tile sounded its end.
He brought his legs up to his chest, balling up in the corner. Letting the sting of emotion fill him. Yet, this emotion he could not identify as true, was it fake? Was it just a ruse? Was it all fake like him? Or was this all genuine? He brought his hands up to his face, inspecting the craters of attempted suicide. Finding that it left minute impressions, and nothing more.
He moved his body from the position, causing small brass cartridges to roll, he pulled himself up from the position. dragging his feet towards the close door, yet further than the moon. He rested his hands on the wheel that would lead to the common area. He rested there, thinking of everything.
He was searching for a motive to leave, taking his time to use the door as it was meant for. Though he could find no such purpose. He brought himself to open the door regardless. The door swung open to a rusted common area, the suede couches filled with people all looking in his direction with worried eyes, some reached out as he walked past, though they held their tongue.
Some had tears in their eyes, some kept a face filled with anger. Yet, there he strode past them. Seeing them as nothing more than an obstacle, ones who judged, ones he envied. Envied for having the ability to cry, laugh, or to be hurt. He meets the eyes of living things, things that had more emotions than just pain and sadness. He knew what they were, yet they were completely alien.
He was once like them, he was once mortal. Now he was a walking corpse, void of empathy. One of these bodies stopped him, its hand on his chest, trembling. He looked over with his mouth parted, and his eyelids were loose. That thing was a she, and she was crying, a stream of liquid pouring from its eyes. He brought his hand to her face, he touched her cheek lightly. Letting the stream flow past his pointer finger, parting, and falling to the floor.
His smooth voice sounded out "move" it was harsh, jagged, and sharp like a knife. These words cut her deep. He moved past her hand, leaving the girl behind him. He walked past the place where he was almost beat, past the place where he met the Watcher. He saw figures walking down the steps, leaving an area void of activity. Like he was a boulder in a river of people.
Though, unlike his 15th anniversary at Jester inc. he did not stop, he kept striding down. He heard a voice call out behind him, "Carter, I need to talk to you." He kept on walking down the steps. He could hear the person catch up to him and walked ajar to him. She kept on speaking, "Why did you do this to yourself?" He left the question float in the air.
They reached the ground below. He walked to the couch that he rested on beforehand. Looking down at the ground, refusing to acknowledge the person that was so desperately trying to speak to him. the annoying voice kept on, he found the ability to speak up only to disperse the nagging away from himself.
"just leave me alone" his smooth voice spoke out, again jabbing the recipient. "Carter, look at me. It's Marrisa, I'll be training you from this day forward." She kept on, headlong and unmoving, just as the shell that was dented that sat before her. "Marissa?" He asked the floor, he slowly looked up. Finding the face of a girl, young and energetic. His thoughts ran to the time when he was kidnaped, forced into a chair, and blamed for things.
those memories melded into the exact moment when he died. The warmth of the light, the tiredness, and peace. "You're a thief." He spoke sharply to Marissa, he could see her wince, then look on in confusion. "I haven't stolen anything" she responds lightly, looking for a way to bring Carter to the topic that was at hand. "you stole my life, my humanity." His voice trailed off, only to pick back up again. "I can't feel anything." Leaving a wound in Marissa's heart. "You didn't save me, you cursed me." He went on, wounding her further.
"Your not seeing the bright side of this, you can't see that you now can't die. Why can't you see that?" She asked with a defensive tone, almost as if she does not want to admit to the situation. "Your asking me to thank you for all of this?!" Carter asked with a ferocity known only to those with anger issues. "I can't feel the ground under my feet, or smell the air that surrounds all of existence. What do I have to thank you for? This anger that is in satiable? Or the pain that is matched with unhealed wounds. I have NOTHING to thank you for, only hate you. Don't show your face near me again." Carter places his point down as if it were a ten ton weight. Unmovable and grand.
This statement jabbed Marisa in the gut, twisting and pulling at her emotions. She knew full well that he was suffering, and she chose to ignore the pain that was so obviously painted on the machines face that sat before her. "It's either you leave, or I leave." He stated out of the dead air that surrounds both of them. She reaches out to his forearm, placing her small warm hand against the cold metal. She looked down, letting her long hair draped over her eyes, he could hear her voice waver as she spoke up "it's cold" she stated with a heavy weight pulling the air closer to the ground. "The cold between the stars will always be a freezing vibration." She added, almost as if she were looking for forgiveness.
Cater simply looked down at her, fully aware of the air between them. With a swift movement, he rose from his position and left her there on the ground. His bright eyes lit up the way in front of him, yet the dark behind him faded into a veil of shadows. He strode back up to the steps that led to his sleeping quarters, stepping with weight, each step adding to his story, each single one forcing his past to flow in his mind.
Each single experience cutting and jabbing at his already mangled mind. His thoughts were as heavy as the world, knowing full well that he will out live anyone that he meets. Each single person granted the future that ends the same for all of them, his future was just as assured as the outer reaches of space, yet to be discovered with many mysteries to be uncovered. His eyes falling upon reach step, brightening up each one. Highlighting them with intense focus.
The sound of his mechanical feet falling upon old concrete. His hands brushing against the faded metal bars that weakly resembled safety bars. The climb was long, but entirely worth it. He was prepared to do almost anything to leave this place that killed him and left him a hollow shell of what he once was.