Within the endless sea of nothing, a disembodied mind drifted like a piece of wood amist the waves of a frantic sea. Accompanied by nothing more than silent thoughts, it seemed trapped between the fabric of reality... Regret - and rage - those were the only concepts known to it during these damning moments.
". . .This can't be the end. I've come so far. Those children, those... bastards," Its 'voice', or mind, echoed through the nothingness. Warped with an indescribable rage that sent tremors through the waves of the abyss. "Look at what I've become," More voices echoed around the drifting consciousness.
"This is all your fault. You deserve this, you stole our lives from us. It's only right we do the same," 'They' spoke.
"No... This is merely the product of a lost mind, you've all no intelligence to reprimand me! You're all gone, left to move on!" It wanted to thrash, move, /do something/, but it was improbable for a separated consciousness to take action. How long had it gone in this circle of blame? Claiming these voices weren't real... weren't tangible. They couldn't be, they couldn't. "I was Immortal, I had it all! I could've fixed her, fixed him, and killed the little rodent who cursed them both to hell!" Screamed the consciousness, sending more violent tremors through the mountain of darkness.
"Father. I'm going to come find you."
This uncontrollable rage... perhaps lamentation? "Come! I'll kill... I'll... I'll..." Nothing. What was the use of responding to any of this... there truly was no one here, he was talking to himself. This was hell, a deserved hell truly. Incapable of tears... any form of emotional release, the consciousness witnessed the smiling, obscured faces of children round it like a planet.
Its mental churning slowly died down, thoughts becoming inactive as it felt itself giving in to the surrounding abyss. These struggles (past, and present) were so tiring. When could it rest? Could it ever rest? Was it entitled to peace after everthing? Even If it, in some lost reason, was selfless...?
As with many times before, the mind was subjected to a recollection of its entire life leading up to this new hell. 'Glancing' emptily out into the fog of darkness.
It saw his smile. His little boy - the youngest - who could never stop crying. Who always needed someone to protect him. The consciousness could bare with the thoughts, the vivid scene of the youngest being tormented. Oh, how he should've stepped in... how he should've never gave into temptation of watching a little brat smile happily as he walked with his mother through the pizzaeria.
*How could he resist taking the life of such a spoiled brat?* That brat's face overlapped with that of his youngest son.
It saw her smile. The one who reminded him so much of the woman he vowed himself to until death's vile grasp ripped them. The ray of sunshine, who even though babied, loved every creation he made for her. It was hers', something to make her happy(or that's what he told himself). That damned prototype activated on the ONE THING IT SHOULDN'T HAVE. Why was she there? He told her not to be, he strictly... strictly... Its mind was breaking apart.
And finally, there was /his/ smile. The oldest, the most useless, the one he despises with all of his heart. The little bastard who stripped the youngest from him... a prank... The real cause of all of his suffering. Just thinking about his features warranted the thought of murder.
"Rest now, Father. We all have sins to account for. I'm sure you know Henry's here too."
Indistinct screaming came from the drifting mind. Directed at what...? His Son? His situation? His own selfishness, and inability to protect his family after his wife's passing, which lead to the destruction of those who never got to live a life?
He didn't know anymore. He didn't want to know anymore. He was tired.
Yet the mind felt a pull... one familiar, yet scarily foreign. It found its attention diverting to light piercing through the darkness of its prison. It was so, so far away, but perhaps - just maybe - this was the chance for it to leave this purgatory.
"You can't leave us, William. What gives you the right to freedom?" Beckoned a mental form of pressure on the drifting consciousness as it tried to will itself to move.
"Shut up!" The mind responded.
"You'll never escape our torment." Pang. The mind ached terribly, its own voice beginning to get drowned out by the repeated chorus of 'them'. Overshadowing the mind's thoughts while it wafted through fabric of empty space. "We'll always be with you."
"Fix us, Father," Another set of voices, different from the terrifying chorus. "Fix us."
"I'll put you back together, both of you. Just wait for me." Unable to resist, the voice responded.
The light grew denser, brightening the hollow darkness that couldn't overpower it. "I'll always come back, you hear me?!" It pushed through the demanding taunts of childish voices, which soon devolved into a mixture of screaming and laughing. The consciousness felt every aspect of it get grabbed ahold of, threatened to be pulled back into the middle of nothing.
It was so warm... The light that beckoned the tired mind bestowed a feeling it hadn't felt in so long, the feeling of life.
As the light expanded, the consciousness found itself undergoing a change. Those hands, now revealed to be a corruptive black, never let go of it. The mind, now a body, encased in a metallic coffin of sickly, yellow fur, mangled flesh, shattered bone, and sparking wires was being pulled.
He could finally breathe.
