*Contains severe violence*
Memories. They're funny things. They love unraveling at the most inappropriate times. Their love for striking made sleep abandon me. This is another one of these times.
Why is it now? Of all the things I've done in the past, why does this memory have to resurface? I'm about to ask Soulless a question, but then I remember we're separated now.
I can't go to them. I need to stop being so attached. Even they said so. Instead, I let the words on the tip of my tongue spill out.
Flashes. Dark purple, bright yellow, repeat. The sound of it dropping to the floor. That one clack breaking the silence.
Haziness clouds over me right when the flashes stop. I rub my eyes and focus back on where a ceiling should be. This place is what I call Cincernum. Synonym for hell. My very own hell.
Except it's not. This place is no hell. The only thing that makes this place hell is myself. I would include Soulless too, but the fact that I'm the one attached to them makes me hate myself more than them.
Cincernum is basically made of black goop. The floor, the walls, the furniture. Everything is black goop. The only color that thrives down here is black. There are no definite indoors and outdoors.
I came down here after I died for the first time. Died physically, that is. I've died emotionally and mentally hundreds of times before then. Being the creator of phantoms and the murderer of Jamaasian citizens has made me an infamous person in history. I wouldn't fit in with the majority of the dead. Things wouldn't settle well if I was to be among the people I killed. I never was meant to die and wake up again in heaven.
I wonder if he got into heaven or hell. Or is he like me in the way of being in his personalized hell?
"Do you think it was right to kill my father?"
Purple flash. Spilled blood. Yellow flash. It's on the floor. Purple flash. My feet are soaking in it. Yellow flash. The front of my clothes is wet. Purple flash. It's the blood. Yellow flash. The first sword drops to the floor, breaking the eerie silence. Purple flash. The second sword falls. Yellow flash. The white is permanently stained. Purple flash. The swords soak in the blood on the floor. Yellow flash. I've claimed victory. Purple flash. My hood falls. Yellow flash. I tear off my mask and smile.
I feel dizzy when I open my eyes. My breathing- if I can even call it that- becomes fast and shallow. My paws take a hold to the left and right sides of the bed. My back stops pressing against the black blanket.
Soulless isn't here, but I can imagine what they would say.
"You did the right thing, Fierdan," Soulless would say. "Remember all those things he made you go through? He deserved to be killed by you."
Soulless had a role in everyone else's murder. Everyone except my father's. I had total control of my actions when he was with me.
To this day, I find it ironic. Soulless taught me to hate him. Soulless gave me hate and abnormal amounts of strength. Soulless abused the naive young boy I was, turning me into a young adult addicted to violence and death. Soulless dug out my heart and replaced it with a black copy. Soulless was only a factor in the years that turned me into a hollow shell of the person I should have become.
I, alone, hold full responsibility for the death of my father. Soulless had no role. I killed my father more brutal than anyone else I've killed.
I made a little girl get slowly burned alive. I stripped the clothes from her. I forced her to play with black fire.
I used to find it so fascinating how people lose their skin. It would melt off their bodies. Bodies are like candles. Too much heat and they start breaking. Melted skin, melted wax.
It was all sick, but I loved it.
But even killing her, my youngest victim, was less brutal than killing my father. Than ending the life of Zios.
After one purple and one yellow flash, the memory plays in my mind.
It's taking place way before the actual violence starts. Father had on his mask. He never took it off, and I never took it off him after he died. He was dressed in white robes with some gold lace in places such as the ends of the sleeves and around the collar.
I was the opposite of him when it came to color. The main color I wore, of course, was black. I had a mask too- it was attached to my shirt collar- but I didn't put it on until later. I did, however, had my hood up which made my ears be covered. The majority of my outfit consisted of a black cloak. Underneath the cloak with its attached hood, I simply wore a black shirt and pants. A pair that is similar to the one Duke wears. On my black shirt and pants, however, there were purple phantom markings.
"You made me rot in hell. To bring your son here must mean you have an infinite amount of hate for him. You obviously hate me, father," I said to him.
Even though I couldn't see his face, I had the feeling that he had shining brown eyes. He was definitely smiling.
"I missed you, my son. You've grown up. Let me have a good look at you," he said.
He never revealed his face to me, but I took off the hood.
"Your hair, it's black and longer than before. You look just like him," he said while observing my hair.
It never occurred to me that he was referring to another person when he said that. I was only focusing on my bangs and how long they were. They were so long that they began to become wavy. I was relieved to hear him not comment on how my hair was stained black and purple. That it was actually brown hair.
I made the bangs stop covering my eyes and told him, "You got rid of me when I was between the ages of four and seven. I'm in my twenties now. You stripped a life with a mother away from me. You forced me to grow up without a family. Why have you suddenly come back? To see if I'm dead? Because I'm not. I'm not dead."
I snatched his gloved hand away from touching me.
"I wanted to check up on you," he said as his pathetic answer.
The next few minutes have faded from my memory. It does continue, however.
"I don't hate you. I am proud of you, my son."
Zios didn't even remember my name.
"You have grown up with a striking resemblance to me," he said. "You are just like your father."
I lifted my right paw. "I am nothing like you," I said out loud. I was thinking of how Zios and I could have any similarities. Much later, I figured out what he meant.
Zios and I were parallels. My parallel to him haunts me the most. We both held plans for the future. Mine sprouted from the seed he successfully planted.
Anyone who went against our plans was killed. Anyone who opposed us died. Our plans, however, couldn't have been more opposite.
I moved so close to him. My right arm was still raised.
My eyes glared at him. I snarled at him, and it was the first bite of my venom.
"Stop lying. You hate me. Admit it."
His only reply was a few words. "I never hated you."
I put on the hood with my left paw. While on the tips of my toes, I stared at his mask. Right where his eyes should have been. Before I can only assume I clawed them out. I showed him my teeth, my fangs, when I grinned at him.
"You still want to lie. It looks like I have to be the one being honest here," I snarled at his face. "Well, I freaking hate you."
After I spoke that last word, I attacked.
It started with a punch to his neck. It ended far worse than that.
We both were covered in blood. My face and paws were smeared in the deep crimson color. Most of the blood wasn't mine though. It was his.
Attached to the cloak were two swords. Dual blades. He tried to fight back. Oh, how he failed. Oh, how many times I stabbed him.
The blades were already red before I dropped them.
If the swords didn't cause my father pain, then my black flames did.
His clothes were more red than white when I was finished with him.
I focus back on my current surroundings. I fall back onto the bed.
I swear I hear Soulless say something to me.
"You lost your humanity. Zios took it away from you by putting you here. When you killed him, however, you got rid of any humanity you had left. You are an inhumane person, Fierdan. Even if Duke kills me, you won't ever be able to go back to being what you once were. You're not human, dear brother."
That's when the flashes return. Purple. Yellow. Repeat.
I can only guess that we're humans. Purple flash. A boy who looks similar to me is being distant with me. He keeps on hiding behind corners while we play. Yellow flash. I'm in a garden with Dawn. She is wearing a sun hat. She is picking flowers. She puts them in my hair. We laugh. She's happy. I'm happy. Nothing I have on is black.
Purple flash. The boy who looks like me never looks happy. I don't know what burdens him. He is working against me with our father. I become distant with him as well.
Yellow flash. Brother is crying. Father is abusive. Brother was forced to work with him. Brother isn't even ten years old. Purple flash. Dawn and I tease him. Brother and I refer to Dawn as our sister. Zios isn't her father though, so I am confused.
Yellow flash. Brother is breaking down more than usual. He tells me that he "doesn't want to say goodbye", but Dawn and I continue to tease him. Purple flash. They took Dawn because of her parents. Some call them witches or involved in witchcraft. Yellow flash. I get separated from everyone.
Purple flash. I feel like I lost my memories. I don't remember anything except basic information about myself like how I'm male. Yellow flash. I only remember three letters from my name- D, A, and N. Purple flash. I name myself Fierdan. My clothes aren't colorful anymore. Everything is black. Yellow flash. I'm surrounded by dead bodies. This place is hell. Why am I in hell? I thought I was a good boy.
Purple flash. It has been a few days. I meet this girl. She only remembers her name, which is Dawn. Yellow flash. I don't remember her from before. She is a stranger to me now. Purple flash. But that doesn't matter. We become friends again.
Then the flashes stop.
I can only wonder how I would have turned out if the Jamaa project never existed.
I could be happy. I could be human.
I could have stayed Daniel. I could have never become Fierdan.
I could have a normal life.
But that had to be taken from me.
From the three of us.
By our father's force.
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