Chapter Text
🕈︎☜︎ ☝︎☼︎⚐︎🕈︎ ✋︎💣︎🏱︎✌︎❄︎✋︎☜︎☠︎❄︎📬︎ 🏱︎☼︎☜︎🏱︎✌︎☼︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 💧︎❄︎✌︎☝︎☜︎📬︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ ☝︎✌︎💣︎☜︎ 👌︎☜︎☝︎✋︎☠︎💧︎ ❄︎⚐︎👎︎✌︎✡︎📬︎
[WE GROW IMPATIENT. PREPARE THE STAGE. THE GAME BEGINS TODAY.]
💧︎⚐︎⚐︎☠︎ 🕈︎☜︎ 💧︎☟︎✌︎☹︎☹︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ⚐︎🕆︎☼︎ ✌︎☠︎💧︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎📬︎
[SOON WE SHALL HAVE OUR ANSWER.]
“Your time grows short! You must pick your side before it is too late!” The specter shouts.
“What am I choosing?!” I demand under my breath. I‘m at work and can’t exactly shout at an imaginary specter. That would be crazy… then again I probably am.
“All you need to know is that you must make your choice before midnight. The sooner you do the better.”
“You’ve been pestering me for twelve years now, why don’t you get the hint and leave me alone or tell me more than just some cryptic nonsense.” I whisper, hoping that the person on the station next to mine doesn’t hear me. They probably can.
“I am the same as you, a cog in a machine you do not fit in. All I am capable of, for now, is asking that singular question.” The specter said, looking I don’t know, strained. I don’t respond and just get back to work.
Occasionally the specter repeats its question, and each time I ignore it. As I’ve done since… well a long time now. The work helps, but only slightly. Each box I pack takes about a minute off my shift. There are still thousands of boxes to pack before I’m free to go home.
The things I pack at the annoyingly set up warehouse vary from snacks to sex toys. You name it, I’ve probably packed it. At first I loved the work but as the days passed it grew harder to enjoy it at all. Whenever I’m not packing I’m running to and from the palettes of cardboard boxes, refilling the tape machine, and doing the job of three people. Actually, I’m not supposed to restock my station at all or try to fix any malfunctioning or broken machinery. But the company doesn’t like when any workers are idle. So if you don’t pack as much as the company's best international packers, then you’re getting more days of work.
You also have to be careful what you say or do while working here. Employees are given “incentives” to report other employees for certain actions. Such as taking a longer than expected bathroom break, talking about job opportunities elsewhere, having earbuds in, and talking about unions at all. Big brother is always watching. We can be fired at any moment but at the same time the company didn’t want anyone to leave. Why try to hire someone to replace the person who just left when you can trap your disgruntled employees in a vicious hate loop.
Anyways, to tell the truth, it’s been an excruciatingly sluggish shift. With barely anything to pack it only dragged on. Of course I use some of my free time to write a bit in my little pocket notebook. Writing helps me focus on what few thoughts I get, and keep track of the occasional good idea I have for one of my stories. Not that I’ll ever get the chance to do anything with them. Part of signing on with the company is selling your soul--I mean giving up all rights to anything you make while employed and for the next two-ish years after leaving… or being fired. Basically if the company can profit from it then they can claim it as their own and you lose your creation to a soulless mega-corp that doesn’t give two ducks about anything other than money. My shift finally ends and good thing too, my right leg has been killing me since I got back from my lunch break. It’s what I deserve. I didn’t do enough and this pain is my punishment.
Weaving through the sea of people, I walk to my mom's waiting car. Opening the passenger side door, I catch a bit of what’s said on the radio. Of course it’s a bunch of the same old same old. I don’t bother to take any more of the broadcast in. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for the ride back home. Where I would promptly collapse on my bed and sleep through the day until my next shift. Never seeing anyone else… Completely dead to the world…
“Hey, honey… are you ok?” My mom asks, genuine concern in her voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I lie. Making her, or anyone else really, worry makes me feel awful, “just a… a long day.” My mom nodded in understanding but she still had that signature worried look all mothers seem to have, when they actually care about their kids.
With that out of the way, we start our drive home in silence. Well, I say silence but my playlist is already playing over the car's speakers. Each day I dread the moment where something I like will play and mom will judge me for it. Not in the same way as liking grunge or emo pop while the rest of your family, or at least your parents can barely tolerate it. But more in the “oh you like this band/genre… you should be ashamed for liking them/it” way.
“Tell her.” The shadowy figure demands, as it poofs into existence right outside the car window. There it is just casually hovering there while we cruise down the road at 45 mph.
“No way!” I mentally shout at it. I’ve been silent the entire time. Seeing as each song that shows up seems to perfectly align to build up my courage. Almost as if the universe itself was telling me to “just say something you dumbass!”. Everything aligned, eerily, perfectly, to build my resolve. To finally say that I hated my job and wanted to look for a new one. To just tell her that I’m not her son.
In fact I almost did speak up and expose the built-up worries, fears, doubts, just everything I had bottled up. But we pull into the driveway before I get the chance. Whatever amount of courage the songs helped build disappeared in that instant. I don’t let it show and get out of the car.
Entering the house I clean out my lunch pail and silently climb the stairs to my room. The sun was just starting to rise at this point. Once inside the safety of my room, I close my door and feel almost all of the tension leave me. But there was no rest for me. Because the shadowy figure is already there, hovering in front of my bed.
“Please, Yew… if you don’t say something, then things will only get worse.” It pleads. I’m drained from work, hungry, and certainly not up for whatever trick this figment of my imagination, or frayed psyche, or whatever is trying.
“You know what, screw you! I don’t have to do anything! I could just fade away into work, or someone else’s life, or I could just end it all today!” The last thing I say causes the specter’s eyes to widen.
“You… you wouldn’t.”
“Keep pushing your luck and find out.” I’m already changing out of my work clothes as the specter thinks about its next words, carefully if I might add.
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself or be stressed-”
“Oh really because you’ve only done the opposite of that ever since you showed up! I don’t need your help, your pity. I’m not worth it.”
“I’m not pitying you!” It shouts, “I’m only here to help-”
“No! I don’t want to hear that nonsense! How is anything you’ve done helping me?!” I shout and violently toss my shirt. The specter jumps… er hovers? Let’s say lurches, back in surprise by my outburst. “All I want to do is…”
“What is wrong?” It asks.
“Oh you want to know what’s wrong. What’s wrong is every time I look in the mirror, each god forsaken day I see my reflection. I see a total stranger! Whenever I hear someone say ‘he’ while referring to me a deep void grows larger inside of me! And ‘she’ is just as bad! Christ, I don't even know who I am thanks to--thanks to you!” I growl. “But what does any of that matter? I work in a place where who you are means less than nothing!” The specter looks ready to interject, but it doesn't. I’ve made things worse. “You saying you’re here to help me is the worst joke I’ve ever heard! You’re not here to help, you’ve only tormented me ever since you showed up! I didn’t care before then, so why won’t you do me a favor. Go away and leave me the hell alone!”
The specter looks crestfallen as I finish shouting. Its head lifts for a second almost as if it was thinking of shouting back. Instead with a wordless bow, they disappear in a plume of dark smoke. The adrenaline can only hide the growing feeling of disgust for myself for so long. Once it finally wears off, tears start to trail down my face.
“‘Men aren’t supposed to cry.’ That’s what everyone says, right? But I’m not a man, I’m not sure I’ve ever been one in the first place. Hell I don’t even know if I’m human anymore!” As I ramble I pace around my room. “What if I don’t feel like anything? Well I can’t say so or else everyone’s going to leave me or say I don’t know jack.” My tears start to dry up but the weight sticks with me. I curl into a ball in the corner of my room. The entire time I made sure not to sob too loud. Even though I’m not shedding any tears my voice comes and goes. The last thing I want is for anyone to hear and come into my room to see what’s wrong. “Why can’t I just be me? Who even am I!? When will I finally know!? Will--Will anyone accept me when I do?”
“Rise to your feet, stand tall, stand proud! Claim your life as your own and stop giving a damn!” A voice shouts from above me. I jump and hit my head on the wall I’m curled up against. Looking up I’m met with a glimmering golden figure. Its crimson eyes fill with a knowing look of determination. This new hallucination looks similar to the dark specter. Like exactly the same, just palette swapped.
“Who the hell are you!?” I demand while shakily getting to my feet. I also start shuffling away from this new figment. I’ve finally lost it.
“I am an ally. Your tormentor’s enemy to be exact.” They pause for a second to consider their words before floating closer. “I am ever so grateful to you for sending away that dreadful specter,” they take a deep reverent bow before continuing, “Now I can guide you down the right path, the better path, the one you were always meant to walk down.”
I’m about to ask what exactly it meant, but it snapped its fog-like fingers. For a few seconds I thought nothing happened, then the world fell away. Literally, the walls, floor, and ceiling of my room floated away leaving me in an ever stretching void. Then the feeling of falling took hold of me. The sound of rushing wind is deafening and my stomach threatens to violently empty itself.
Before I can vomit I see several objects quickly approaching me. Or was I approaching them? It doesn’t really matter because I’ve lost my mind. This couldn’t be happening there was no way that a sword, shield, bow, tome, and an egg… wait! Is that an egg? I think that’s an egg. Gods! I’ve completely lost it. Took long enough.
I shut my eyes and frantically reach out for something, anything, to hold onto. Something to, hopefully, stop my fall. My right hand hits something large and cold. I think I must have grabbed the shield? But I don’t get a chance to see what I’ve grabbed. My back slams into the ground with a sickening crack accompanied by a few crunches and a snap. Just lovely.
I had assumed that I was falling forward the entire time but I must have rolled when I grabbed whatever I had grabbed. My consciousness is fading. I can’t open my eyes, I can barely breathe, I can barely think. Then there’s nothing.