Where: Spades, training.
What's happening: ..... Zale is becoming deadly, and unstable.
Listen to: What I used as a muse, and something that might do well listening to with the solo. Vice Versa
'Tick tock.'
He could hear time. He could hear it changing around him, clicking quietly in that maddening harmony. It was driving him mad, he wanted to break. He wanted to let go, but he couldn't. Time was urging him forward, and he was longing to let it, yet he wasn't allowed. He was not allowed to turn around and let the tide take him, he was forced to try and swim forward. It was growing maddening, taxing on his mind. On his body. On his soul, if he had one. Sometimes, when he decided to take comfort in those kind of trivial beliefs, he would pray for someone to release him. These days, when he found himself quietly whispering, quietly praying, he realized how stupid it all was. No one was listening, but really, what would they hear if they listened? A small boys troubled mind, a mind that wanted to give in. A mind that was willing to break, if only to taste the freedom it craved. It could sleep forever if it let in the madness.
'Tick tock.'
Everyday he trained, and everyday he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud it would rupture his longs. He wanted to scream until nothing came out except blood. But he didn't, he wasn't allowed to. He was supposed to be quiet. He was supposed to be training. Each day he leapt and attacked, stabbed and dodged, and each day he died more inside. He was never able to complete the full training coarse. Why? He wasn't strong enough, his body giving out right at the end, stopping him from climbing over the steep wall. Sully kept trying, he kept failing.
'Tick tock.'
He remembered his first friend, Malo. The boy that frightened him at first, and yet became his best friend quickly, showing him affection another child never had. Malo had become special, had become the light Zale clung to. Malo. His eyes narrowed at the name, hands stabbing and ripping into the mannequin, a scream bursting from his lips. Sully was telling him to be silent, he wasn't listening. He needed to scream. He had a feeling that if he didn't he'd burst, that he'd simply erupt right then and there. That he'd die. Malo.
'Tick tock.'
He remembered meeting everyone and exploring the factions as a group, clinging to Malo in fright as faction leaders approached and greeting. Meeting a strange boy named Isaac, whose smile was as frequent as air itself. Meeting Briar, a gentle soul that later he'd hurt. He remembered returning home to a world turned upside down, a world where Sully cried and then shoved him away, forcing him into training. He remembered the first day he realized he was a monster, and the following days where he hid. Ran from his friends, shoving them away.
'Tick....tock...'
He remembered Amias, the first and only boy he accepted after his rejection of others. Another Spades member, he was safe with Amias, who knew already of Spades danger. He remembered lifting stones, seeking the perfect one for Amias. He remembered shoving Malo and Briar away, and the hurt in their faces. What he remembered the most was when he tried to hurt two boys his age, and the feeling of pure lust for violence that followed, and then the pain at realizing what he had become. He remembered everything.
'Tick..... tick... tick....'
His life was repeating, over and over. Pain, hurt, fear, rejection. He was accepting and delivering these things. He was inflicting and receiving. He wasn't sure which hurt more. His legs were screaming as he leapt over obstacles, he mentally told them to shut up. He wanted to run, to turn around and escape. His voice was no longer screaming, but he was inflicting damage, his knife lashing out randomly at anything that brushed against him. He wanted to cut, but not himself. He wanted to cut something that resisted. He wanted to cut until it broke, until he stopped its resistance.
'Tick..... ti.....'
How long would he be forced to play this game? He had two options, reject or accept. If he rejected he would forever be breaking, forever be just barely over the edge. Perhaps he would truly snap. Perhaps. If he accepted he could be allowed to crumble. Acception meant he no longer needed to resist. He could be given the salvation he wanted, as long as he gave in. Salvation. Now he understood... he understood Spades. These people were the free, the ones with truly had pure freedom. Their minds did not restrict them, they gave into that feral lust. They allowed the body to simply be. He wanted to be free. He wanted to forget his morals, he wanted to give in. He wanted to let everything wash away, and drown in the desires that were creeping.
'Tick.....tock.....'
His body halted where it always did, stopping right before the base of the straight wall he was expected to climb, but never had been. He wanted freedom, he wanted the little voices in his head, the morals, to stop screaming. He wanted it so bad, he needed it. He needed to give in, why did everyone outside of Spades want him to stay? No. He was.... meant for this. He needed to be, for it was the only way he could run. He could escape now. Yes.
He would accept.
'Tick tock!'
It took him a few seconds to realize he was at the top. He had finally accomplished it. This would be the landmark of his downfall. This would be the landmark of when the old Zale completely died. This was his beginning, and in a way, his end.
'Tick. Tock.'
