As every story starts, there must be a main character. A character who have the reader's attention.
And the readers? They seek only entertainment in the character's life. They don't give a shit if you live or die—just as long as you entertaint them.
You're just another character in a book they'll soon forget, or live off your story. Yet still, it depends on how far you're willing to go to become the star.
But in every creation, there is one above all—the Creator. The God...
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"He's watching; he won't forgive you." Her smile haunts my sanity.
How could someone, standing on the edge of their life, still smile like that?
I held her trembling hands, the knife pressed dangerously to my throat. But it's no use—she's going to die. In God's will.
"You're not a monster like me, Nellie." She look at me with a tint of sorrow as tears slowly started streaming down her cheeks.
I want to reach out. I want to wipe away her tears.
"Of course I'm no monster," I murmur, struggling to hold back my own. "But your presence... It's making me one, Nellie."
'Fuck. I died and died—a thousand times! just to avoid this moment, but here I am. Watching you die again because of my selfishness'
I could live a thousand lives, and still, I would remain the worst brother...
"Mi vida te perecerá." I close my eyes as her blood stains the garden, warm and sweet, like her soul. I could taste it on the tip of my lips.
Once again, she was gone. The coldness of this world presses in on me. If only I were the main character...
{The character Nellie Liquet, the villain's sibling, has died. Character 1367: sign off.}
My jaw clenches, and I aim my trembling fist at the bright yellow screen that looms before me.
"If I can't bring back the dead, then I might as well embrace death itself."
I pick up the gun from the floor and press it against the roof of my mouth. My hands no longer tremble in the face of death—it scares me how my fear have turned into my madness.
I pull the trigger, and the white flash bangs against my skull.
"Aren't you tired of this bullshit?" That voice again.
"No. But I'm tired of seeing your face."
"Hahahahaha!"
When I open my eyes, I'm back in that place again. On my knees, kneeling on the cold pavement, staring at that thing seated on their throne.
"How can you be tired of seeing my face when you can't even bring yourself to look at it?"
"Maybe because if I dared take a glance, the darkest pit of hell would swallow me whole."
"You... are truly remarkable."
His face is hidden by shadow, but his eyes—they glow, like precious golds buried deep in ignorance.
I want to pluck them out.
"Despite all your sins, I fancy you the most," he says, raising a hand to unveil a book. "You shall fulfill my desire to be the perfect character."
'A God Who Loves My Madness'