I have no fond recollection of dreams, as my current state of being revolves around dying every single night. Ergo, I don't dream - I die. However, what had transpired around me as of the current cycle, preceding the last 100 cycles is what some would call a nightmare.
I believe we're around cycle one-hundred-and-fifty, and in every single cycle, the world has more-or-less revolved around my own actions and what I do to trigger specific events.
So why was I being kidnapped this time?
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
If means is what I think it means, even with my lacklustre way of thinking, every single time I die as of this moment, I'll be kidnapped by an organisation.
Think, man. Think.
How did this not happen in every other cycle?
Don't panic.
You have to think, and consider the possibilities of why and how this could have happened int he first place. Where was I last? What was I doing last?
Dying.
Of course I was dying. What else could I possibly be doing except dying a gruesome and horrible death?
As hard as I can think, there's not a single suspicious thing I could've done that would warrant me being kidnapped by virtually anyone.
Don't panic.
Analyse your surroundings.
Think about this rationally.
Don't panic.
You're going to die in a number of hours, so we need to stay as calm as possible.
We're in a car, we know this. It's not spacious, so there's a strong chance I'm in the boot.
Great. Keep calm, there's absolutely nothing we can do until we're freed somehow. Just stay calm, breathe.
How can I keep calm in this situation?!
First time getting kidnapped and it's by a mystery man in the boot of a car. Why couldn't it be a sexy older lady?!
My hands are tied and my mouth is taped. Assumedly to make the transport easier, but I do fail to see what I could've possibly done from the comfort of the boot that could hinder a however-long-distance-drive.
Moments like these, I wish I was more like Detective Wise Guy.
It wasn't much longer after I ran out of things to keep me from panicking that the car had stopped. I felt a very sharp pain in my neck and lost consciousness once more. From what I could assume was moments later, I woke up to a very unfamiliar room. A room with monitors encompassing the entire north wall of the room, in fact. Monitors that showed every single corner of this quaint little town I lived in. More specifically -
Every place I've been in the past one-hundred cycles.
If there's any better time to panic, it's probably now.
The room is more or less empty aside from the north wall covered in monitors, the door behind me is sealed shut with no doorknob - just a hole where it should be. East and west walls were barren, with just the one ventilation shaft for what I could assume was air conditioning.
Or escaping.
Before I could even think about getting up, I'm quickly reminded that my hands are completely bound.
Shit.
I think now is definitely the best time to panic, but instead, I just sweat profusely.
A man on a swivel chair spins around in this ridiculously sinister fashion, like some superhero antagonist, brandishing a pencil in one hand and absolutely nothing to write on in the other. He moves his pencil in a hypnotic fashion as it dips on and off his lips every half second or so. I glance at the monitor and see that it says the time's 14:20, so it's safe to assume I've got about nine hours until I'm safe at home.
"You sure do think a lot. If I could read minds, I'm sure we'd be having one hell of a conversation." He spoke in a giddy high-pitched excited childlike sort-of-way. As if he never grew up past middle school. He had a stupid unkempt head of silver-white hair that stretched down to just below his stupid shoulder. His clothes weren't anything to scoff at, not like I cared about clothing anyway, but he dressed like he was a prisoner, himself. Plain white long-sleeved white top and long skinny black trousers that really emphasised how skinny and twig-like his body was. Plus he was barefoot to top it all off. It was as if he didn't eat anything except sweets under a ridiculous personality trait. However, there's no trays of sweets to prove me wrong. Just a burning disdain for the present man.
"What do you want?" I yelp, as if it was the obvious question. I mean, it is the obvious question. I'm unimportant, irrelevant, and cursed to live forever in a cycle of my own design.
"Hmm…" he hummed, almost as if he didn't know the answer himself, "now I remember! You're kinda special, you know that? We need what's inside you."
Excuse me?
Excuse me?
"Specifically, not your organs. Something a lot deeper than that. Something you wouldn't understand."
I lose my breath. What is going on? I can't stop sweating.
What the hell does this mean? My entire world was a lie? Is this the end? The final conclusion? I finally die? I hate to say it, but I wish I accomplished more. What else do I have aside from being scared of the world and being a loner?
I had no friends, no family ties, nothing to cement me to this world.
I could cease to exist now and the world would be nonetheless.
Don't panic. Maybe it's not what it seems.
"Who are you?" I asked, slightly frustrated. I believe I should've been feeling nervous here at this point, but it's no exaggeration to say that not much surprises me lately.
"A-ha! You must've been having such a lovely conversation with yourself, coming to a response like that, I'm positively hurt that you would leave me out of your little inner monologue." As if reading my mind and not knowing a single word of what I said. However, I have to assume he knows something.
"Listen, I only want to know two things. Who you are, and how you got me here through the cycle."
"The cycleI?! That's what you call it, nowadays, huh?" So he's avoiding telling me who he is. "I'll tell you who I am." Never mind. "My name is Raphael. Like the angel, Raphael. But not really an angel. You see, I, too, behold your curse. The demon that terrorises your living nightmares, that is what I live to banish."
"So why am I here?"
"That's obvious, isn't it? So we can be best friends. You have important information, and I would like it from you." He smiles a comically sinister smile, like someone that just got their hands on some really juicy gossip. Or a corrupted archaeologist finding an aztec mask.
"Are you actually trying to help us?" I'm going to let you think about how a man asks that question. Both afraid, and hopeful.
Raphael lifts his empty hand's index finger as if to say I'm asking too many questions. "Uh-uh. Spoilers." That means no. "Anyway, it's too early to spoil the reception. The main event is just now happening."
"What do you - "
Darkness.
I wake up one more time. Bound, again. It appears my entire face is bound aside from one single eyehole, but it's so bright. A single light is directly above me, blinding me. No, I see someone. A… few people?
I think I'm… starting to understand.
Blood. Pain. Fear. Death.
I hear a voice above me. God? An angel?
"You must have grasped the wrong end of the stick when I said you have important information."
Raphael.
"When I said information, I know you can't tell me anything valuable. You don't know anything."
Just then, I feel it. The pain.
"You're a spec of dust in a bowl of water. You can't comprehend the situation you're in."
A feeling unlike any I've felt. This isn't death at all. A sharp blade slices through my arm, bit by bit, back and forth.
"If anything, you're more like a puppet in a doll shop. Disgusting, easily dismantled, easily put on a shelf and forgotten about."
I lose feeling in my left arm.
No, that's not it.
I lose my left arm.
"You're nothing more than information for me to gather and discard as I please."
I try to scream, but my vocal cords - they've been cut.
"Precious little lamb, didn't even have to come to us. We came right to you. We saw your every single move. Every single day, a new place, watching, learning."
That's right. I was cocky. I thought I was the only one who could move outside the cycles.
"Little did you know, you had a guardian angel. ME."
Before I could recover from the pain of losing an arm, I feel it. The second arm. The only arm left. Piece by piece, bit by bit, back and forth.
"And now look where you are? Home. Where you belong. The professionals will take over from here, my child. See? You won't even die. You belong with me."
Why did this have to happen?
"Keep searching, my children. The core exists."
Core?
"The centre of this reality, inside of him. Remove it, and we live forever,"
I can't keep up.
"And I can finally be reunited… just keep searching."
I feel a clamp. Maybe, the opposite of a clamp? My chest, my ribs, I feel pain all over, but…
I try to scream.
If I were to try to describe this in a remotely understandable way. It's as if having ones chest caved in by a fire axe, only to have the axe turned sideways inside of your ribs. My ribs have been pulled apart and broken, as my entire torso was cut down the middle with such surgical precision, or sloppy amateur work. Either way, I was certain I would come off the chair a whole new person, but of course, that would never be the case.
As I can feel the latex fingers swimming around inside of my chest - as I lose consciousness over and over again - I finally hear the very thing I so desperately wanted to hear.
"NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT." As a cold chill creeps down my spine, I know what's happening. "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE NOW, MY FRIEND, YOU AND ME ARE GOING TO BE VERY WELL ACQUAINTED FROM HERE ON." I hear the screams through the static-ridden-system as Raphael experiences my existence for first of many times. Before long, I feel fate's beautiful arms encompassing me, as…
As I die a brutal and painful death, and yet, it was the most satisfying death I've ever had.