Prologue (End): This is Hell
Welcome to the end of the prologue (2nd chapter) I am going to slow roll this and just upload chapters till I hit the word count for stones. So consider reading this before then as 'early access' I guess. For now expect chapters every Wednesday and Saturday/Sunday, maybe even a double every now and then. But don't expect me to stick to that very well.
Anyway enjoy.
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"W-Where.... where am I?"
"What h-happened?"
"Who am I?"
My questions echoed throughout my spirit as I asked peering into a void. Something was terribly wrong, I didn't feel anything not air on my skin nor my chest drawing air there was nothing no sensation, no nerves to tell me if I was alive or dead. My thoughts raced as I began to panic, if I could breathe I am certain I would be hyperventilating or gasping for air. I waited hoping that I would awake from my circumstances, but as time passed the air became more.... suffocating.
My mind felt empty as if it had been poured out and only partially refilled. Every thought seemed to be an illusion of what it should have been, like having the answer to a math equation but without the original question and work. In paranoia, I searched every corner, every nook and cranny in and out within my intellect hoping to find a door that would lead to an enlightenment that would return my stolen thoughts.
"Am I dead?"
I finally asked receiving no response. In this land of naught, there WAS NOTHING, there WILL be NOTHING, and there has ALWAYS been NOTHING. Change no longer existed in whatever state I was, there was no stimulation, and all was the same before as it was now, 'This has to be a nightmare,' I told myself, 'It will all be over soon it MUST be just a bad dream,'. I continued to chant these phrases and sentences like encantations hoping that I could ward off the dark realm I had fallen into. And that these things that I couldn't remember, the things I shouldn't have forgotten, that all of these fragments missing would return to me and above all that everything would be made right...
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... I vaguely remember someone telling me that after death we just sleep for eternity in a void, or that there is nothing and we will just cease to exist. In both of the beliefs, there is peace at the end, and death is something not to be feared but accepted. But listen to me now, whoever I am doesn't matter because you must hear me, there is no peace. Death is something to be dreaded, something to flee from the moment you hear of it, because not only does it take and deprive others of life, but it also tortures those who have passed on.
"This is Hell"
As if spoken into existence a pillar of stone appeared in front of me wrapped in flames. The inferno was all that my sight beheld. I burnt down to my very existence, and yet I couldn't scream. The pain had overwhelmed me, I couldn't exactly comprehend what was happening. All there will be... at the end.... is fire. But just as suddenly as the pillar appeared it vanished and I was left alone in the dark.
Time passed, and before I knew it I was counting to myself in the black, "One...Two...Three-" . It was like water dripping on what would be my forehead. It would not allow me to just fade to black, to be no more, to become part of nothing. Like a voice nagging me in the ear, reminding me that I was going nowhere, and my suffering had just begun, "Sixty-seven-thousand-one-hundred-twelve, Sixty-seven-thousand-one-hundred-thirteen, Sixty-seven-thousand-one-hundred-fourteen,"
The count rose, and there was nothing new.
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"Thirty-million-eight-hundred and two-thousand-two-hundred and forty-two, Thirty-million-eight-hundred and two-thousand-two-hundred and forty-three, Thirty-million-eight-hundred and two-thousand-two-hundred and forty-two,"
In delirium, I continued my count in near insanity, but I experienced something that I never believed I would hear again, "This is Doctor Franklin Mitchell, recording number eighty-two. The patient is a young Caucasian male around the late juvenile age range. The boy has short brown hair and... green eyes, his height is between six-foot-two inches and five-foot-eleven inches, with a somewhat scrawny physique,"
"A voice? A doctor... that means," my mind slowly shifted like a giant gear covered in cobwebs being fired up for use once again just as a zombie crawls out of his own grave, "I am alive," I became fully conscious of my thoughts once more. No longer on auto-pilot, I focused on my only source of knowledge and evidence of the outside world like a baby in the womb, completely and utterly dependent on his mother.
I heard the sound of something being set down along with the creaking of what I assumed to be a doctor's stool, "The patient, poor kid (he mumbled), is believed to be a victim of being shot execution-style with what is believed to be a 9-millimeter pistol, according to a witness. A quick look also told me he had been beaten beforehand. However, nothing was too bad," there was a pause accompanied by a long tired sigh, "I have successfully been able to retrieve the slug from an area close to the Hippocampus. However, the x-rays show that there is another piece of metal still in his head, best bet is that the hollow point fragmented and changed trajectory... I cannot operate on the fragment's location without cutting through a lot of the boy's noggin,"
I heard the seat creak again, "As of now the patient is stable and in a coma. I have no idea when he'll wake up or if he will. But I've done all I can, it's only up to the good lord whether or not that fresh grave in the cemetery is used," I heard a click as he finished and something clattered onto a wooden surface.
I continued listening begging for there to be more. For this doctor to not leave me. To not return to nothing, and in that desire, he said something that engulfed my entire being, "That bastard in the checkered suit really did a number on you son-" the words he said after that became muffled as I began to chew on what he had just spoke.
'A man in a checkered suit... did this to me?' I thought as my heart hardened into stone. and I began to taste wrath.
A memory flashed in my broken mind, it was the only thing that I had remembered in thirty-million-eight-hundred and two-thousand-six-hundred and seven seconds. It was like a recording, the image was of a dark graveyard with lanterns beside me, I was tied up and stuck on the ground tasting blood in my mouth from getting my teeth kicked in. But what stood in front of me, fire wrapping him like a shroud, "Sorry kid, truth is the game was rigged from the start," like a creaking door those words forced their way into my ears as a star engulfed my vision before burning the memory away, and yet I could still feel the knowledge of the event wriggling in my head as it placed a dog collar around my mind dragging me along with a leash like a dog who hates walks.
I clenched my non-existent teeth as rage became my blood and hate my breath, 'I'LL KILL HIM,' I heard a loud beep on the outside but wasn't distracted by the world anymore, 'That son of a bitch, I will kill EVERYONE he KNOWS I will torture EVERYONE he loves Everyone he as ever loved and EVERYONE he ever will. I am going to make him watch completely bound as I take and take and take everything he has and he will not be able to stop me. AND THEN AND ONLY THEN WILL I PUT HIM IN A FUCKING COMA, and he will only know pain not this FUCKING BLACK SCREEN and he won't die NO I won't let him die until I AM FINISHED,' I raged and ranted and if I had a body or control of my own I would have torn through my clothes and any restraints as revenge and vengeance was the only thing that plagued my mind.
My thrashing around went on for who knows how long but eventually the black reality forced me to calm down and I told myself-no I swore to myself, 'I will kill that black and white checkered suit motherfucker, there is no hole on this rock that is dark enough to hide him from me,' and as I finished my vow, my sight ignited and the dark clouds were lifted.
What I thought would have been the light in a room with a doctor turned out to be an extension of my never-ending nightmare. In front of me was a road, cracked and decayed, unmaintained and desolate. It sat underneath an overbearing sun that seemed to only become hotter with every moment. The air was dry and nothing hovered nor glided through the air. The road was even and mostly flat, along both sides of the path was dead grass, wilting and drooping due to the unbearable sun.
I looked down and did not recognize myself, 'Is this my body?' I asked unsure of what to make out of this new scene. I reached down and touched the dried-out plants, 'This feels familiar,' it seemed I at least had a residual memory of what grass felt like, and it appeared that it wasn't something that the checkered-suited fuck took from me.
My blood boiled as I thought about him, and that anger led me to begin walking down the road. I walked along this path and there was nothing besides dead grass and broken-up asphalt for miles. But I did not care, all roads lead to something and I was certain that this would be what would lead me to the one goal that filled my soul, killing the man who did this to me. I felt beaten by the heat more and more as I traveled but I remained firm, obstinate in my hatred.
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'Five-milliion-nine-hundred and thirty-two-thousand-one-hundred and five, Five-milliion-nine-hundred and thirty-two-thousand-one-hundred and six, Five-milliion-nine-hundred and thirty-two-thousand-one-hundred and seven-hm?' I stopped my zombie-like rhythm of counting as I noticed a change in the road I had been walking. My eyes had been glued to the black rock not bothering to look at the God forsaken land around me. That was until I noticed that I was no longer looking at a road.
Raising my head I now noticed that I had arrived at a forked road. To my right laid a road far better than the one I was traveling, but there was no grass living beside it, instead dust was what surrounded the neat path. On the other side, to the left, was a well-worn path it resembled the one I had been walking the most, but instead of dead grass on the sides, it was filled with thick luscious green grass.
'The fuck is this?' I thought before catching a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye.
Turning my gaze I noticed a black monolith pillar, eerily similar to the one I had seen in my hell. I was disturbed by its presence but noticed that it had an engraving covered in dust and dirt making it illegible. Reaching out with my unfamiliar arm I wiped away what covered the writing and read internally what I saw.
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'Roads.... Roads never change, but men do.
Men are changed by the roads they walk, every bump and crevice.
Every detour and stop determines the state of a man's spirit.
Behind are two roads.
Neither of their ends can be discerned from this point.
One with good scenery and has been traveled by many, and is by far an easier journey.
One, an alien to the land and few desire it, yet well maintained.
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Before I could read the final lines on the thick stone slab, that rose high above the ground, a black smoke shot out from it spewing around me. It covered my surroundings and blotted the sun from my vision, 'No!' I shouted internally fearing that I would be trapped in the darkness again. I fought violently trying to get the fog away from me to no avail.
I closed my eyes defiant that I was going to be dragged back to Hell. I kept them shut not daring to open them until-
CAW CAW CAW
CAW CAW CAW
CAW CAW CAW
'Is that a crow?' I asked cracking my eyes open slowly to see the sun shining blindly on me. I raised my hand to block my vision allowing me to see where I was now.
"A window?" I mumbled before widening my eyes surprised to hear my voice. A crow tapped his beak on the window as I refocused my vision to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me.
"Good you're finally awake," my head snapped to my right hearing an old weathered but experienced voice. I faced the man hearing words that would remain in my mind forever, "Seems your road is going to be tough, right son?"