Since the very beginning, even when the dinosaurs walked alive and well, the world has been painted in black and the world has been painted in white.
It's that simple.
There is good. There is bad.
Those that bring goodness into the light, or conjure up evil in the night. The ability of differentiating one from the other is supposed to be within everyone's comprehension. After all, they are complete opposites, one can bring warmth and happiness, but the other is doomed forever to bring cold and remorseless suffering. One is on the left of the spectrum, and the other is on the right.
The distinction is supposed to be something fathomable, something that can be understood, whether it be one way or the other.
But it's not.
For some, it can be tricky to find the line within the shades of gray. The line, like the equator, implied but not visible. Sometimes I wonder whether or not the line between good and evil is even there. Who's to say every existence isn't brought afloat to the surface simply to be pulled back into a hole six feet under?
Who's to say every existence is not useless? That the ways of the animal, intently searching, looking for a way enables his survival, never left us? Are these just the words of the addiction while it pokes and prods trying to get me to continue to indulge? I can't say for certain, but I once believed that Belladonna could be the piece to the puzzle that has always eluded me, a piece that could complete me.
She is the nearest to good that can counteract my evil, she is the closest to an angel that can pierce past the gates of my hell. She's an angel that knows what it's like to have an addiction sitting on the saddle trying to get her to trot and gallop to what it desires.
However, we're not the same.
A time once existed where I looked at the mirror and I could see a creature, a darkened deformity with a chance of being good. I feel sadder to realize that the monster staring at me with those remorseless eyes of never ending self-loathing belong to me.
I am too far gone.
I am too long addicted to pull myself out of this slump. But the addiction has its salvation. I couldn't see it before.
No more will I have to jump through hoops while I look for the simplest form of justification for my actions.
Instead, I can simply strike my prey, like the hunter that I am, and like the hunter I was born to be.
I'm not looking for anything anymore.
I'll weather the weather whether everyone agrees with what I do or not, but the world will have to understand. The world doesn't have a choice in this; a time has come when I am not putting it first. This isn't about what the it wants; this is about what I want. The world has watched me struggle to walk on my own two feet, and laughed, never offering a helping hand.
What can you do when everyone else feels like your arch nemesis? They have seen me fall to my knees, scared and afraid, and struck me without mercy. I have spent my life having to bend over backwards just to feel worthy, to feel good enough, but it's time that I kick back.
Still, carefulness is indefinitely necessary.
A new lease on life won't silence the fact that the simplest of mistakes could lead a most unfortunate case of death on my part. A boost to my self-esteem by realizing that I don't have to twirl and twirl like a spinning tire will not bring modification or alteration to the fact that murdering George Schultz was a mistake. An incredibly great mistake, capable of ripping the ozone layer a hole the shape of a smile from a certain kitty-kitty from wonderland, but a mistake nevertheless.
I can't afford to make any more miscalls.
Once the mistake happened, I beheld it with a certain satisfaction, sad at what I'd done but not really regretting any of it, but wondering what the hell I was going to do to get myself out this little dilly of a pickle I was in. I wandered around, with both my fingers crossed, hoping James hadn't decided to come back to see my bloodied masterpiece. He hadn't, of course, and as far as I could see there was nobody else that had. The night was approaching, and soon it would engulf the body from view anyway. Nobody in their right mind would be hunting at this late of an hour unless they wanted to play flashlight-tag with a grizzly bear.
I, of course, most certainly, still took heavy precaution. If an abusive drunk is killed in the forest by his son's roommate and nobody else is around to see it, did it really happen? Unfortunately, yes, but at least for a while, I want to make it look like it didn't happen. I later came to find out that James had taken a taxi to wherever it was that he was heading. However, at the time, I was somewhat surprised to see the Cadillac resting happily atop the dirty ground outside the grassy realm.
The grassy realm that is primarily used for hunting, oh, and animals trying to live their lives in peace and harmony, but mostly hunting. I looked around and I came to the happy understanding of how alone the vehicle was. I didn't see any other cars anywhere near it. Had George known somehow known that I was going to kill him and deliberately parked the vehicle away so that his body could be moved discreetly!? What a sweet-heart!
If so, that was very thoughtful of him, and just for that, I'll resist the urge to further at poking holes into his skin.
I could not simply grab the body by the legs and leave a trail of blood behind me. Leaving smears of blood seems disgusting and like something people would look down upon, which is something that I will not sit for. The night was too dark, and even more buried by the trees, even if somebody knew of my presence; they wouldn't be able to identify the body.
This provokes a risky, but quite necessary happening, because I can't leave the body out in the open very much longer. The trail might be a problem, the trail could quite possibly be seen by someone and be thought of as animal blood, but one could only be so sure.
There has to be a way to stop the overflowing of blood that I was forgetting.
After playing catch with my ideas, I hog-tie George and head on my merrily way to dispose of the body.
Keeping to my promise, I didn't once stab George again, but I covered the wound with a masking tape I found inside his Cadillac. A majority of his blood even decided to stay inside of him for the occasion.
I resisted the urge to tie him to the hood of the Cadillac and simply laid him face down in the backseat of the car.
After removing the tape, I began to thoroughly inspect the wounds from the body and began discarding of certain superficial details that might connect me to said crime. I wiped at his torso, making sure there were no finger prints behind at the wound when I taped it, and then, I removed any remaining remnants from the beer-bottle from inside of him. Speculation came after, and pretty soon I was wondering how I would be able to rid of the body. I thrashed and dashed with fast thoughts speeding through me as if they were on a race-track, but I didn't find anything. No bells or alarms went off to speak of. I look up, and there are no light-bulbs over my head either.
I could have easily just taken him home and made it look like he was drunk and fell on a shard of a broken beer-bottle or something. However, I needed something significantly more substantial. It wasn't as much about keeping the body hidden permanently as much as it was about keeping the body gone until I was long gone from Hardan. A couple of days, a week, maybe even a month, just long enough to create a significant gap between the death and my visit to Hardan.
My decision for the matter happened with the lifeless body of George driving itself off a road into the Amisoic Sea, with a shard of the windshield already cocooning itself in his liver. Cans of alcohol scattered throughout the car, and from his drinking binge earlier, alcohol already in his system. The car drove fast, before it fell in the ocean below, causing a splash.
The minute the car dunks itself into the pool of water, I realize that it is actually a slam-dunk for me as well.
I'm actually pretty good at this, if I wanted to; I could probably go the more traditional route of murdering people. However, I realize that if I did so, I wouldn't get to wear a cool cape and the thought washed away faster than James' drunk and abusive daddy.
This was last night.
But tonight has come, and there are things that need to be taken care of.
There is manure that needs to be scraped off from the bottom of my shoes, once and for all. When I left for my adventurous ride to oblivion, there were a couple of things that greatly needed my attention.
Belladonna and I had been trying to help the polluted environment by discarding of the unearthly trash that was Jacob Nelson, we were given a very unwanted surprise. A fire, one with a large array of colors, one from an individual successfully creating himself a diversion, enabling for his escape. There wasn't much of a reason for curiosity to be laid upon it anymore, honestly. A man was trying to kill another of his own, he saw a dilemma, he caused another problem, and solved the first one. There is no reason to believe that it was anything personal, but there is no reason to believe that it wasn't. Even still, I don't want to share the people of Acera with somebody else, and if it's within my power, I have to dispose of said person.
The other problem was brought about by Olivia Garcia.
Belladonna played by a multiple of specific guidelines and adamantly wished to continue to follow them through thick and thin. After a disgusting display, Olivia convinced the ever-naive, Belladonna into believing that the world was nothing short of dancing skeletons and bloodthirsty rainbows. I decided that tonight would be dedicated toward the more instant gratification, the one that I knew I could take care of the easiest.
I will be subtracting the world of Olivia Garcia, and nothing is going to stop it from happening.
My eyes glare downward with the ferociousness having just joined, feeling natural. The sky blackened, and darkness rained over the city lights, as if putting a layer over them. I glare, staring angrily, determinedly, and with strong focus at the Sidian Inn. I am waiting for something to happen, but what am I expecting?
The building to suddenly set itself a blaze, and the cause of the fire to die thus killing two birds with one stone? A clue to sprinkle itself upon me along with the exceedingly dimmed darkness?
Silvia Garcia isn't here.
“Silvia Garcia isn't here,” a voice agrees with an emotionless coil of certainty and dismay in its voice.
“I know,” I respond with an equal showing of cold certainty radiating from my own.
I turn to Cepheus, in most circumstances, I would go the theatrical route of smacking my hands to my cheeks, and have my mouth opened wide to finish the surprised expression. Alas, I didn't have it in me to be surprised; I didn't have much of anything left in me lately, except for this. I am curious to find why he has gifted me with his presence regardless. Why, after all of this time, has he finally decided now would be the opportune moment to speak to me.
Maybe it's because Belladonna isn't tagging along with me on a venture, but I looked forward to getting answers.
“Do you know where she is?” Cepheus asks, ever so calmly.
“Do you,” I retort back without leaving the merest second of silence between us.
“Where's the bride then?”
“Don't worry about her.”
“She not joining me on this kill, she doesn't agree with it.”
“See? She's not like us.”
“No, she isn't,” I agree with noticeable disappointment in my voice.
“You shouldn't be surprised.”
“Are you going to tell me where Silvia is?”
“I want to be there when you kill her.”
“I want to be there when the time comes that it dawns on you that these people, the people proclaiming to be our peers, are useless. They don't matter.” I tune out to what he is saying.
I am tired of hearing speeches about this, that, and something else. The time for action has neared, and I don't have any interest for anything else. Nevertheless, he continues:
“What we do to them is no different than what they do to each other. They eat away at each other, while we're consumed by something else, something greater, something that tweaks the fabrics to create a greater being. We are that greater being, and I think you're starting to understand that,” Cepheus explains with a seriousness pouring of him that I don't care enough to have admiration for.
I feel so fucking nothing... and everything. So strange.
“I think that you're starting to see that you don't have to pander like a puppet on a string to these blithering idiots, you don't have to search for validation, whenever it is only people like you and me that have the power to cast judgment. If they don't believe in what you do, so what? If you don't believe in what they do, you end their lives, like flicking a switch, you turn them off. It doesn't even matter if you don't believe in what they do. I can't think of anything more trivial, there's no reason to,”
“Just show me where Silvia is.”