"Why do you lie? Father o Father you are drenched in Sin...and you can't turn back the tide...Moebius"
Such a calm and collected tone for a soft-childlike voice, but devoid of the innocence which separates a child from an adult. The voice rang into his mind, echoing on the walls of his soul. It was the was relic of his actions, a testament and result of the principles followed by a man. A man who sacrificed everything to up hold his beliefs. That man was Moebius.
The unclear scribbling on the walls, the weightless feeling in his strides and the scent of something he lost-No something he sacrificed...he had been here before.
Moebius knew what came next but yet he it didn't cease his anticipation of the dread. He knew the voice that spoke but he couldn't address it, only helplessly listen.
"Wanna play hide and seek?"
His eyes popped at the question.
What an innocent voice....Oh how oblivious to grime and miasma of the world.
This is different from the earlier voice yet it shares an odd connection, one which he can't pin point...or more so, something his soul isn't willing to face yet.
"I will be It. You hide."
Moebius knows he won't hide, he knows what he must must do-No...what he had did, there is no changing what he did....No amount of repentance can scrub of the stains of cruelty he has etched onto his soul.
"I will count to from 5."
His wrists feel heavy, this feeling is familiar but one which he had always tried to forget...something he was never quite ready to accept.
He knows this familiar grip, the sensation of his index on the trigger, his thumb cocking back the hammer and that ominous sound of the *CLICK* that follows. His own limbs feel foreign, his mind is intact but his actions are not matching his intentions.
"5!"
"Aim for the head Father." the ominous voice whispered" Make it painless, make it quick-You don't want him to suffer, do you?"
Moebius knows he isn't in control, he knows what the the outcome will be when the count down reaches its end yet he refuses to accept it-He refuses to accept the truth of what he had done, the gravity of the forbidden trade he had accepted a long long time ago, did not allow him to raise his head and face his judgment.
"4!"
"Tell yourself you had no choice. Now lift your forearm and take aim-You need to save your own family first right?"
He has heard those words a thousand times, perhaps it is a reflection of his self awareness mocking his guilty conscious, he recognizes his own wrong doings yet his feeble and tainted soul seeks refuge by begging for forgiveness.
But forgiveness comes at a price, a price he knows he can't attain in this life no matter what he tries to do. He can't turn back the clock on life neither can he bargain with the devil...not that his soul would fetch much of a price.
Slowly but surely his arms betray his mind and he can see the revolver's front and rear sight peering up from his peripheral vision.
"3!"
The gun is aimed, his mind is screaming and the voice is unyielding. He is about to repeat history once more, giving up another piece of his sanity as another day passes.
"2!"
He wants too protest but his mouth doesn't obey. It feels like his soul is trapped in his rebelling body or maybe deep down he knows that no matter the bargain or attempt, the result cannot be changed. The barrel is now pointed in the direction of the sweet caring voice, a stark contrast to the abysmal state of Moebius.
"Don't worry father...what's on the paper needs to be done-That' s the core principal of a true...Bottler...right?" the voice whispers in a eerie and twisted comforting attempt, bringing into the light a fragment of Moebius's past.
This is it.
The count never makes it pass this point, it never ever crosses 2-
"1!"
"Now's the time, shoot...f̸̠̺̦̄̓̅ȁ̴̩̐͠t̴h̸̦̋é̴͇͓̕ŕ̴̛̳ .."
For the first time, his body responds in agreement with his mind, causing his hand to quiver...He can move-HE CAN FUCKING MOVE! Maybe he can change the outcome-Maybe this time it's different.
"W̵̨̕H̴̛̭A̴̩͋T̶̟̄ ARE YOU DOING MOEBIUS!"
The voice is now desperate, it seems to lose its previous sly confidence, it seems somewhat distorted, it....WHO CARES WHAT THE VOICE IS! MOEBIUS IS FINALLY ALLOWED TO MOVE! SURELY HE WILL CHANGE THE OUTCOME. MOEBIUS LOOKS AT HIS HAND AND-
"SHOOT!"
HE THINKS TO HIMSELF-
"S̸̢̛̗̈͠ͅH̴͉̗͆̎͝Ō̸͔Ơ̵͇͔̤̚͝T̶͔͙̍ !"
He tries to-
"S̸̛̖̞͔̜̼̺͎̓̂͊͊̆͜͠Ḩ̴͈̭͕̯͙̠͑̋̓Ǫ̸̻̭͓͂͒͠͠Ò̶͔̈́̔̕T̵̛͚̳̈́ !"
he-
"SHOOT FOR M̵̧͙̤̿Ï̸̧̎̔̈́͜G̵̳̞͕͇̺̎̌͛̔Ų̴̢̩̖̻̣̇̈Ę̸͕͇̤̲͎̟̪̃̒͘L̵̢̡͕̹̦̙͗͋͌̍!"
"Ả̵̬̥͆̕A̶̢̭̗̜͚̜̓A̴̛̦̗̍̊͗́͘A̷̔́̈͜A̶̡͕̱̝̪̯̥̐̉̾̃̀̓̂Á̵̹́̈́̉A̵̡̛̫̼̠̘̹͒͐̚͘͘A̶̫̗̪̪͊̍Ạ̸͓͔̪͎̱͋̐̓̇̋̑͑A̸͚͔̯̻̅̓̓͑̌̕A̴̘͉̓̊͘A̴̭͇͔̎̀̉̀̇̉̈A̶̧̗̱̰͈͈̍̾̈́̀̾̍A̴͚͍̐Ã̵̩̭̹͛̆͜A̴̺͒͂͐͠Ą̶̨̛̰̟̦̮̘͗̀̑̈̈́À̷̢͉̘͑͒͝A̴͙̯͍̟̪̜̽̐̔͐̆Ą̶̭͎̙͓̣͍̌H̵̤̠̦̝͍̝͝ͅ|"
…
The sensation of falling overwhelms him and he jolts awake, with the sound of a headboard getting banged against the wall, following closely behind. The feeling of his shirt being drenched in swear, the dry and coarse feeling in his throat certainly didn't help the situation. Moebius breathes in quick short gasps, his eyes looking around frantically for confirmation of where he is-Until it dawns on him, just like a slow disease which haunts him almost regularly, it was a nightmare. A very twisted and crude nightmare.
The veins on his forehead are almost ready to burst as he tries to even out his breathing. Moebius runs a hand through his scruffy white-blond hair as he finally manages to get a good breathe in.
"That fucking dream again..."
He mumbles to himself as he eyes the alarm on the bedside drawer. The time, '05:59', stuck out to him in their flashing red hue. Only thirtyish minutes left till the *BEEPS* and *BUZZES* fill the dark and musky room. He leans back on his pillows and wipes off the beads of sweat clustered on his forehead; His head throbbing from the sudden awakening, not that its a particularly rare occurrence. He lets out a defeated sigh as he swings his feet off the side of his bed, sitting in a slumped position. He thinks to himself:
"Might as well start the day."