Clayton opened his eyes to the new world surrounding him… or at least to what he could see. As he looked at his arms and legs, which were harshly attached to a metal bed, he could help but wonder what they had planned. He also noticed the walls. The metal upon metal walls that decorated his vision. Where was he? Where's Nathan? Clayton's eyes bulged wide open as he realized his partner wasn't right beside him. He needed to get out of here. But how? He couldn't move his arms. There was nothing around to cut himself open. It seemed…pointless.
The sound of a door opening brought his mind to a halt as he realized who it was standing over him.
Josiah.
Instead of his happy eyes that he first met, now he wore a mask that was decorated to look like rotting skin. Under the eye holes, numerous bags of flesh hung ever so slightly lower. Other than the horrific mask, the man wore a red suit to make himself look more sinister. Along his neck, was the pattern of the same fabric that gave the detective the same euphoria from before.
But what about her?
Clayton watched as the supposedly hidden man walked over to his bedside. Slowly examining his legs, stomach, and body. As he examined each part, Josiah took a slight pleasure in tracing each incision he was planning to make. Getting frustrated at the one that didn't look perfect and nodding at the lovely ones. He acted as if… Clayton wasn't alive at all.
As he opened his mouth to speak, he was immediately silenced by the feeling of a latex glove. At first he tried to speak over it, or show some resemblance of fighting back. But in the end, trying to fight someone with complete control over all of your being, was futile.
"Don't ruin this, okay Clay. just let this happen." This time, his voice sounded more sinister than ever before. What's gonna happen? Like he was just gonna sit back and let everything just roll. He needed to find Nathan. So they could get out of here. "Janis! You're there aren't you? Come on out! I apologized so many times." As he spoke, his voice became more and more whimpered. He was desperate… but for Janis? Who was that? And why did he feel the need to apologize? Suddenly the wind around them started to pick up, leaving some sort of dust to dance in the air. Clayton knew this feeling all too well. The dizziness, the weird feeling circulation in veins.
He knew who was coming…But he didn't expect as who.
As the man's vision became more and more blurry. He couldn't help but remember the feeling of losing Sage. This woman did everything. From the killings, the poisoning, to… leaving him without his wife. Everything to make his life hell. Feeling hopeless, he closed his eyes to embrace what impact that was leading to happen.
"I don't have time, Pabelo. Can't you see how pointless this is?" The words itself seem foreign, but the sound of their voice seemed all too familiar. Feeling uncomfortable, he quietly opened one eye to see if what he believed was actually happening. It was.
Clayton's eyes watched as someone who seemed to look exactly like his wife began to start speaking. How? Didn't she die? She had to've. He heard her die. He heard her gasp for air as she fought to leave that burning building. Why was he seeing her now? The imposter seemed to go on about multiple things. About "Pabelo's" killings. Her resentment towards him, and how he failed to ever be a good husband to him.
Nothing made sense. What did this have to do with them? With Sage? With him, Yasmine, Nathan, anyone. This was bullshit. A complete false sense of hope. As he watched his wife, he couldn't help but wonder what was happening? She was possessed right? So how… Clayton could slowly feel his vision loosen up. The black clouds that clouded his eyes weren't so bad anymore. But soon another problem formed.
As he looked around for an escape, Clayton singed at the pain he started to feel. When turn to see this source blood began to course his body.
Legs
Thighs
Stomach
Chest
It all seemed to seethed blood as time went on. The color red, staining everything in his sight. It seemed symbolic…in a weird perverse way. Ever since he lost Pharaoh, he has been chasing some… out of reach dream. One that seemed so near, yet forever gone. He spent his entire life infatuated with some type of destiny. As if he was meant to be the one who solved Pharaoh's death. He spent countless hours studying, fighting, interviewing, only to realize… he can't do it.
He can't fix himself.
He was broken.
Suddenly, the feeling of a hand slipping into his took priority over his mind. It felt cold, but comforting. Almost as if someone had made this hand just for him. As his consciousness slowly slipped away, he watched as the boy he once loved whispered the words.
"Let go."
And he did just that.