Suddenly, when I was wandering through the town—obviously to ignore the [ ]s, since they're all just... a waste of my fucking space—something happened.
I don't know what I was even looking for anymore. Maybe I was hoping to find some hidden bend, some edge I could tear off and rip this whole page of the universe away. Just... find some way to make this stop, make it real again.
Then, without warning, everything stopped.
I was still, the ground beneath me unmoving. The sky was still there, but it was as if someone had pressed pause on time. I blinked, once, twice, and then—
A cold shiver crept up my spine.
Black liquid began dripping from the faces of the [ ]s. No, not faces—not anymore. They were holes. Black, inky voids where their faces should have been, pouring out this thick, dark liquid. It wasn't blood. No, it was something else, something that felt... wrong. A void in the shape of a face, leaking from the inside.
I froze. The silence, thick and suffocating, filled my ears, but the black liquid kept dripping, splashing onto the ground like a bad memory, staining everything it touched.
And then—she appeared.
A girl. Petite, blonde hair catching the dim light. She was dressed in a blue dress, almost like something straight out of a storybook—Alice in Wonderland, maybe. That was the first thought that flashed through my head, before I quickly dismissed it. How did I remember something from a past... That I didn't know existed... Or maybe, didn't exist?
But there she was, standing in front of me, smiling. Yet, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. There was something more to it—a questioning gaze, like she was seeing something she couldn't quite understand.
She tilted her head slightly, studying me as if I were a puzzle she couldn't solve.
"Hm," she muttered, "A strange anomaly."
I blinked, trying to make sense of her words. "W-What...?" The question died on my lips, my throat dry, my voice barely a whisper.
"You're not supposed to..." Her voice was soft, but firm. "You're not supposed to question things, you know."
My heart skipped a beat. I could barely process the words as they sunk into my mind. Was she... Was she talking about what I was thinking about? Did she know? She had to know! She had to!
I couldn't hold back any longer. Without thinking, I moved forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her with everything I had, desperate for answers, for some clarity in this maddening nightmare.
"Please! Please, tell me you're talking about what I think you're talking about! Please!"
She didn't flinch. She didn't even seem startled. Instead, she smiled wider, a darkness creeping into the edges of her expression.
"Of course I know," she said, her tone almost amused, but something dark twisted in her smile. "I know... everything."
The words sent a chill down my spine. Everything. What did that even mean? Is she like me?!
Her smile grew, pulling wider, like she was savoring my confusion, my desperation. Her eyes flickered briefly, and I swore I saw a glint of something—familiar, but... wrong.
But it was gone as quickly as it came.
The black liquid dripped steadily from the [ ]s around us, but the girl... She wasn't concerned. Not in the slightest. She just watched me, like a bird watching a trapped animal.
"You don't know what you're dealing with," she said, her voice lilting, playful but tinged with malice. "You never did."
I let go of her shoulders, the weight of her words settling into my bones. What was she talking about? Of course I know! I'm the only one, with her, that know what's going on! You stupid child, the thing is that everything is fake, that's what happening!
I wanted to slap her out of anger, to lash out, but the feeling in my chest—something like dread, but worse—kept me rooted to the spot. She knew something. She knew something I didn't, something I could never understand, even if I rejected it.
But she wasn't going to tell me. Not yet.
I took a step back, my mind spinning. The black liquid kept dripping, the void faces of the [ ]s just... existing. And this girl.
She was the only thing that felt real now.
And that terrified me.
And that... angered me.
She is real. Finally, something real in this godforsaken world of cardboard and voids. Something that isn't falling apart or dripping black liquid. Something that doesn't make me feel like I'm going mad.
But...
I was angry.
She knows something. She must know something. She's standing there with that goddamn smile on her face, acting like she's got the keys to whatever this is—whatever the hell is happening to me, to the world. And she's just... smiling.
A sick, twisted little smirk, like she's watching me scramble, like she's enjoying this.
I clench my fists. My nails dig into my palms, but it doesn't stop the fire in my chest from burning hotter. I'm done with this. I'm done with being toyed with.
"Why... why won't you just tell me?"
My voice is sharp, strained, a growl barely contained. The words leave my mouth like a challenge, but it doesn't seem to faze her. She just stands there, unmoving, like she's waiting for something.
"Tell you?" she repeats, her voice thick with amusement, like I'm the joke here. "What would be the fun in that?"
I take a step forward, my breath coming in uneven gasps. "I don't want your games, you—" I don't finish the sentence. I can't even find the words, because my mind is screaming. I don't even know what I'm so angry about. It's everything. It's all of it. It's the fucking black liquid, the faces that aren't faces, the things that shouldn't be real but are. It's the fact that I know there's something I'm supposed to understand, and she won't just fucking tell me.
Her smile widens. It's like she's watching me unravel. And it makes it worse. It makes it worse that she's so calm. That she's in control.
"Hmm…" she murmurs, tilting her head slightly. "Well, if this isn't interesting." She pauses for a moment, like she's studying me under a microscope. "It seems… you can't be gotten rid of."
My stomach churns. What the hell is she talking about?
"I tried, you know," she continues, her voice almost casual. "I tried to erase you, but you just kept… existing."
Erased me? What the hell does that mean? But before I can even process that, she's still talking, still smiling.
"Oh well," she shrugs, "I'll humor you. You're… interesting."
The words hang in the air like a heavy weight, and I feel my anger spike again. She's treating this like a game. She's treating me like some kind of curiosity, something to toy with.
I take another step forward, trying to force the words out, but the realization hits me like a truck. She tried to erase me. She thought I didn't belong, that I wasn't part of this world. And yet... here I am.
I want to scream. I want to rage. I want to tear everything down. But she's still standing there, smiling like she knows something I don't.
"Who the hell are you?" The words leave my mouth in a rush, my voice tight with frustration and disbelief.
"I'm the one who's watching," she replies softly, almost sweetly. "And you... you're the one who shouldn't be here."
I feel like I'm going to lose it. "Then why don't you make me disappear?" My voice cracks at the end, a mix of defiance and desperation, completely forgetting the fact that she tried to.
She gives me a sidelong glance, as if considering my question for a moment. Then, her lips curl into that dark, twisted smile again.
"I can't," she says, her tone like a whisper that cuts deeper than any scream. "Not anymore."
And with that, she turns and walks away, the black liquid continuing to drip from the [ ]s, trailing like ink against the backdrop of a dying world.
I'm left standing there, motionless, my heart pounding in my chest.
I don't know what I am anymore, but whatever I am, I know I'm not supposed to be here.
And she knows it.
That's some kind of relief. Finally, I know why this doesn't make sense to me. I'm not supposed to be here! This isn't where I belong. But... this... stupid... child.
She stands there, too calm, too unaffected, with that same smile that drives me insane. And I realize, for the first time, that she's mocking me. She's mocking me in a way that feels like it's been happening for so much longer than just now.
I can't take it. I can't fucking take it anymore.
I storm up to her, the anger burning in my chest, and in a split second, I throw myself at her. I shove her down, not caring about how, not caring about anything except that she—the source of my frustration, the one who knows—has to stop playing this goddamn game.
I knock her down, the force of my movement so violent, it feels like I knocked the wind out of someone. But instead of crumpling, instead of reacting the way any normal person would, she's just... there.
She's still smiling.
Her gaze never leaves me, never falters. She's looking up at me with an air of amused curiosity, like she's watching some absurd little creature do its thing. She doesn't move an inch.
And that makes me lose it.
"Hm?" she says, a soft, almost teasing sound, like she's confused about why I'm even bothered.
"JUST TELL ME!" I scream, my voice breaking as the words tear out of me. I don't know if I'm yelling at her, at the world, at the void itself. I just need her to tell me.
Her smile doesn't fade. If anything, it widens slightly, and I can't tell if it's pity, amusement, or something darker lurking behind her eyes.
"Tell you?" she repeats, her voice like velvet, smooth and almost coaxing. "What would be the point?"
And she says it again. The same thing she's already said, like I haven't screamed it into the goddamn air just a second ago.
"You're not supposed to be here," she says, like it's some kind of riddle. "You never were."
No. No, no, no!
I grit my teeth, the frustration in me boiling over. I clench my fists and take a step back, trying to keep it together, but it's no use.
"STOP SAYING THE SAME THINGS OVER AND OVER AGAIN!" I shout, voice cracking, desperate to get through to her. "I get it! I'm not supposed to be here, but why won't you just... just... tell me why?!"
She tilts her head slightly, still smiling, like she finds this all amusing. It's like I'm screaming into a void, and the more I scream, the more it just echoes back to me.
Her voice is almost too soft, like she's speaking to a child.
"Because you're not supposed to be here," she repeats, slower this time, as if explaining it to someone who couldn't possibly understand. "And you never were. But it's okay. You're interesting."
I stagger back, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. She's repeating herself. Again. Like a broken record. She's doing this on purpose. She's... playing with me.
"Please," I whisper, my hands shaking. "Please stop repeating yourself. I can't take this anymore!"
She steps closer, her smile widening as she leans in just a little bit too much, as if to savor my despair.
"Do not worry," she says, voice sweet, almost patronizing. "I'm not the director of the stage, you know. I hate this play. It's... too dark, you know? Well, I like drama and tragedies, but this... this is just for dark fetishes by the director. I..."
She pauses, looking almost bored with her own words, then continues as if she's humoring me.
"I could... let's say, help you? I mean, I think I already said it, I won't tell you the way out, but I could be the occasional guide."
Her smile never fades, but the words linger in the air, thick with something unsettling. Her offer sounds almost kind, but I know better. This is no gift.
"Guide me?" I manage to croak, my mind spinning. "What does that even mean?"
She steps back, with black liquid starting dripping from her face, her gaze becoming more distant, almost as though she's done with this interaction already.
"I think you'll figure it out," she says, her voice drifting off as she turns to leave, her form growing fainter with each step. "Maybe."
I'm left standing there, my chest heaving, the anger still bubbling beneath the surface but no longer directed at her. No, now it's for myself. Because I know—I know that whatever she just offered, it's not help. It's another game. Another layer of this fucked-up stage.
And she's the one pulling the strings.