Forced to Give In

The face of the nameless beauty vanished like the mist. In its place, a canvas of night that stared back at him as he lay on his back, exhausted. Was this a dream? He found himself asking that question more often than was comfortable and it couldn't be dismissed, everything seemed more and more like one long nightmare.

His heart felt heavy and a lump stung at his throat. A cold stream ran down his face as he allowed himself to feel.

The pain, the despair and all the helplessness from before welled up in his eyes as he took in the beauty of the night sky, turning the sight into a blur.

He wanted to hurl insults like he had in the void back then, but he lacked the strength.

Michael was drained, his body which was battered and bruised had somehow healed, which he failed to notice, yet the mental scars still ravaged him. Initially he had been overjoyed at the second shot at life, then the tentacled horror had struck forcing him to rethink how much of a golden opportunity this actually was.

Was this going to be his life now, fighting horror after horror, enduring mental and physical torture every which way?

His fists balled up in anger.

However, despite the rage, he wanted to laugh at himself. A second time, this was the second time he had assumed the Nether to be a peaceful place only for it to shatter his hope.

Staring off into the night, Michael allowed himself to fall apart. The clarity and stoicism he had enjoyed back at the cottage, by a reason he couldn't begin to guess, dissipated in the face of his despair. The nether so far had been cruel ruthless and striped him of his will leaving him feeling naked and empty, like a hollowed out version of his live self.

It was hope that had brought him such pain, it had to be. The moment he had allowed himself to hope, that was when everything had fallen apart, was it not? Yes, that had to have been it. Deep down however, he knew it was his weakness. Hate it as he may, that remained the core of the truth.

'Oh, you are pathetic!' a voice retorted next to him.

He shot up, propping himself by his hands, and looked in it's direction.

A woman sat by the golden flames as wood crackled and the tongues of fire danced in the darkness, casting long ominous shadows wherever they couldn't touch.

'The woman?' he wondered, weary of his intruder. Confusion raged on as he tried and failed to make sense of the situation, who was she?

No, what was going on?

Wasn't he dying just a few seconds ago, his mind returned to him in that moment, the disparity between his environment and the one earlier becoming clear. Thinking on it, more questions begun to surface. Where was the field of murderous grass, how was he not in any pain what so ever, was he free of the demonic vines?

That last question rang with all the hope he had tried to repress.

He was free.

Michael looked down to find himself dressed... in- in a business suit.

His eyebrows furrowed. What really was going on? Darting his eyes around he took in more of his environment; a desert stretched as far as his eyes could see, shrouded in darkness that was chased slightly by the warm flame. There was no sound of night creatures and the wind didn't howl into the air; it was a silent moonless night.

The darkness of night ignited a hidden memory from the depths of his mind.

This- this had to be like last time. Somehow, he remembered the void. It had only been a partial memory, one that his mind refused to call forth, yet now, more parts of it came undone just like last time.

The image of the woman partially overlapped with that of a radiant face, a figure that he remembered revering, loving and hating in equal measure. It was only a brief second, but in that moment, Michael felt his heart jolt with relief, everything appeared to make sense. The time he spent in the void, the power that came with his encounter with that loathsome being and the unnerving events that preceded the void. He remembered, also, his earnest wish, to die, to cease existing and just float in nothingness until the grief of life was torn from his mind.

So then, wasn't this woman responsible for his suffering, she had to be. Desperation returned muddled by hope. Maybe she could put an end to it. The thought was unlike Michael, he had wanted to give up before, but he always found a reason to keep going. Yet, now, in the face of a cruel world, he wanted nothing more than to put life behind him.

His despair returned to him followed by anger, helplessness and hopelessness. The woman watched in confusion as Michael's expression went from scared, to desperate.

If this was her... if she was the one- then maybe she could... maybe...

"YOU! You did this to me right? You put me in this world to suffer!!! I don't want this power, I DON'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU. I give up, I cannot bear the weight that your power comes with. please- PLEASE!! TAKE IT AWAY! I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE!!!! TAKE IT AWAY!!!! TAKE YOUR CURSED GIFT AND LEAVE ME BE!"

He desperately howled into the night at the top of his voice.

The woman watched, feeling sorry for the young man. He appeared broken, his ego shattered and his shame drowned in utter despair. He did not care about strength anymore, or fulfilling his deepest desire, he wanted to rest, to get away from the worries that life came with. He had died and made peace with it, he wanted that peace back. The only way he could have this one wish was if this power he had been given was taken from him.

"What are you on about young man, take what away?" She quizzed indulging Michael's pleas.

"THIS!! you did this to me, I didn't ask for any of this. I only wanted to live a happy life." In his anguish, memories of the past overlapped with those of the present, his grief took over.

"But I- I killed a man. I didn't want to, i never would but SHE MADE ME DO IT, it was HER FAULT... and now yours. What do you want from me?! I am but a simple man, I wanted simple things, a simple life, I wanted to be loved. but NO, YOU HAD TO GO ON AHEAD AND SLEEP with that- that- MANIAC!" he yelled into the night perplexing and intriguing the woman even more. Before his eyes, her face overlapped with another, that of a long lost lover, fueling his rage and reminding him of the empty hole in his heart. He was overwhelmed by grief.

In his rant, he failed to notice a golden chain manifest itself around his neck, the woman did though, and she stared in awe as the runes on the pendant glowed a soft gold for a brief second before the necklace vanished like it never existed.

Then, Michael's shoulders dropped and his eyes went blank while his mouth remained agape. The rage, the pain and all the emotions that had build up until now were no more. They all disappeared as the fire in his eyes died with them. It was just like before; back at the cottage, when his emotions had somehow been turned off. He still wanted to be angry, to cry his eyes out, to cuss at the woman who sat before him and the one who tore his heart out, but he couldn't. No that wasn't right. It was like his body refused to let those emotions out leaving him in a limbo like state, his mind once again failing to make sense of reality, blank and devoid of emotion.

"Poor thing" the woman uttered feeling sorry for Michael. "Tea?" she offered, seemingly unperturbed by what just transpired.

Michael lifted his head slowly to gaze upon the sky. His expression blank but his mind clear and sharp, a feeling that he had once appreciated but now, he grew to detest. He had asked why and how, but after all the strangeness, it was as if a veil had been lifted. The sudden calm being the final nail in the coffin. He saw the answer, it had always been there in the questions, there in the confusion, in the enigmatic nature of his reality.

"I see" his lips cracked into a thin smile. It dawned on him, he was a puppet, the identity of his master lain bare in his memory.

"I never had a choice in any of this did I?" he asked, the question directed to a specific entity, the realization heavy and sour.

Whatever had been done to him, was more than just a second shot at life. how could have been so stupid, so naive. Of course he had been at the mercy of another this whole time. It was evident in how he the events felt too forcing, too harsh and outright cruel. He had refrained from adopting this conclusion, free will was the only luxury he enjoyed, if only a semblance of it. But now, it rang truer.

"You are conflicted, it's written all over your face. I can answer a few of your questions, that should put your mind at ease even if slightly. Tea? it will help calm you down" she intruded his thoughts and offered him a cup, which Michael accepted after considering her for a brief second, his eyes lifeless and expression blank.

"My name is Amelia, the forsaken Bride. The grassland you are in is my eternal prison. Nice to finally meet one touched by darkness."

[Authors note: Share your thoughts, what do you think Michael will do now?]