Monday, 23 November 2015

Downfall Chapter 3

The light drizzle did little to wash away the blood and vomit from his clothes.  The small alley was unlit except for the night sky and was as good a place as any to catch his breath and gather his thoughts.  Jake knelt in the grass and dry retched violently.  In his mind he’d seen all kinds of horrors, but in his 8 years he had only seen the least of them for real.  And had committed none, of note.

One of his many unexplained talents was being able to extract the truth from someone, however hard they thought themselves to be.  He’d never tried it before, but had no doubt of his ability. 

The senator was involved in so much more than even Jake knew.  Drugs were just the beginning, and were just to finance his less mainstream hobbies.  It took a lot to extract all the information from him, leaving little more than a husk of a person, his confessions extracted, along with whatever humanity he may have had left.  When he was finally permitted to die, it was mercy.

But that was all.  The senator was greedy, he was evil, he was responsible for deaths and unspeakable suffering and didn’t seem to have a redeeming feature to him.  But he knew nothing.  Not a single answer he was looking for, just more crimes leading to more crimes, and no answers.

When you know you’re insane, it is hard to know the right thing to do.  Not knowing would be so much easier, he could just be whatever he was and let God or the Devil or the courts and shrinks sort him out.  But he couldn’t hide the truth from himself, he was insane, maybe even evil, but he didn’t want to be either, perhaps that was his one redeeming feature?  Perhaps the only difference between him and the senator was that he knew he was wrong.

He realised he was crying, face buried in his hands and promptly stopped.  Children cry and he was a child, but who was there to listen or care?  Who would understand if they were?  He knew he gave up his childhood when he started on this path, and there was no turning back and going home now.  He couldn’t just run home to his parents, say sorry for running off and go back to normal life like nothing had happened, not after what he’d done.  He certainly couldn’t run around playing with his friends while the voices screamed at him that he will kill them all.  Death was the only freedom.

Ringing filled his head.  He’d done all he could for the world.  Despite everything, despite the voices, the hatred, the insanity, he wanted to help.  Now he had done the best he could.  A person like him couldn’t really help others, he could only help by hurting, it’s what he was good at, it was what he did.  He rid the world of some darkness that no one else dared approach, and now he would help the world again, by ridding it of himself.  One more dangerous murderer gone.

So many more dangerous murderers alive.  No one else knows what he now knows.  All useless information.  Useless to him, but how many lives could he save if he went on just a little bit longer? Let everyone know what he found out in the last moments of the senator’s life?  Was he so selfish that he’d throw all that away just to save himself a few more days’ suffering? 

If he lived a few more days, would he lose all control and bring about more suffering than he could prevent?  He was too dangerous to live…

A murderer either way.  He was lying on his back cackling with laughter now.  If he died, countless will suffer and die at the hands of others.  If he lived, who can say what suffering will be caused by his own hands?  It was beautiful.  The voices sang to him, “There is only death,” and he only laughed in reply.

Jake drew his gun again and held it to the side of his head, a wave of sorrow washed over him for an instant and he held it down before he could break into tears again.  He looked at the bloodstained ground around him and took a deep breath, at last it would all be over, the torment would end. 

It was his duty to protect others.  It was the only thing he knew for certain.  Protect them from himself, if needed.  Protect them from himself, and allow them to be tortured and killed by others?  He was a coward.  The voices had always told him that.  He only wanted to save himself from what he might do, and was willing to sacrifice anyone to ease his own mind. No.

Anger welled up inside him as he finally rose to his feet, gun still held against his head.  He wasn’t going to blame others for his weakness, he wasn’t going to let it be someone else’s fault.  He knew what was needed to save countless lives, if he turned away, he killed them.  If he lived, he might kill many more himself.  But he was not a coward.  If people were going to suffer and die, he wouldn’t let others take the blame.  It would be by his hand, or not at all.  It was his responsibility.

His mind cleared and his finger relaxed on the trigger.  The ringing got louder, like it was coming from all around him now.  Sirens.  Police! 

He was too close, he was supposed to be a long, long way from here where he could never be connected to this, to protect his friends and family.  Not a few hundred meters down the block, covered in his victim’s blood.  “Idiot!”  The voices chorused the word in his head.  He got up and ran, he remembered where to go now, where no one could catch him.  He only hoped he didn’t leave his escape too long.

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