[My name is ▂▂▃▅▅▃. I live in a quiet villa just outside the city, and my dream is to become a doctor.]
Alone in the quiet, two-story villa, Reed Rowley opened his eyes to a familiar blue ceiling. Rowley forced his sluggish body out of the comfortable twin-sized bed with all of his might as he rubbed the rheum out of his eyes. It was the start of another boring day.
“This place…”
Rowley left the room and walked down the hallway. However, something was…amiss. He stopped for a moment and analyzed his surroundings.
This painting…was it usually off-center? I can’t really see their faces either.
Were the walls usually purple?
The rug…something is off about the design. It definitely wasn’t this bland before.
In the eerie confines of his bathroom, Rowley went through the motions of his morning routine with mechanical precision. But today, as he stared into the mirror, he felt the chilling certainty that this reality was not as it seemed. It wasn't just fake; it was twisted, distorted.
His hands moved of their own accord, brushing teeth, rinsing, washing, while his mind screamed against the familiarity of this place, urging him to forget. Yet, lurking in the periphery of his vision were three grotesque figures, corpses torn apart, their mangled forms oozing blood and decay. They fixated on him with empty sockets, whispering incomprehensible words that clawed at his sanity."
“▂▂▃▅▅▃…▂▂▃▅▅▃…"
A primal terror gripped Rowley as he recoiled in horror, sweat drenching his trembling body. His surroundings seemed to warp and twist with each step the abominations took, their presence saturating the air with a suffocating aura of dread. This was not just fear; it was a manifestation of a love turned nightmarish, a love tainted with deceit and malice.
“G-Get away! I want nothing to do with you!” Rowley's voice quivered as he launched objects indiscriminately at the ghastly apparitions, desperation clawing at his throat. Toothbrushes, soap bars, hair products—all became weapons in his futile attempt to ward off the sinister specters that haunted him. But no matter how hard he fought, he knew deep down that these horrors were not so easily banished. They were ingrained in the very fabric of his existence, a reminder of the twisted love that threatened to consume him whole.
The phantoms whispered. “Come home…We…miss you…▂▂▃▅▅▃”
“▂▂▃▅▅▃…Why…did you…do…this?”
Their voices, fragmented and raspy, echoed through the bathroom, filling the air with a sickly pallor. Despite their disjointed speech, Reed Rowley understood their words all too well. With each lamenting whisper, it was as if they sought to ensnare him in their embrace, to merge with him in a macabre union. But Rowley resisted, vehemently rejecting their advances.
"You're not a part of me anymore! I don't need you!" His voice quaked with defiance as he pushed against the spectral forms. Yet, his struggles proved futile. The phantasms enveloped him in an oppressive darkness, their ethereal presence weighing him down like lead. It crept insidiously, suffocating him, consuming him from within. His limbs thrashed against the unseen force, but it was as if he fought against the inevitable tide. Desperation clawed at his throat as he gasped for air, but none came. Panic surged through him, a primal instinct to survive against the encroaching darkness.
"I won't succumb! Even if I'm alone, I'll survive!" His words rang out, defiant against the consuming void.But as the darkness tightened its grip, a manic laughter bubbled forth from Rowley's lips, a desperate declaration of dominance in the face of overwhelming despair.
"Do you hear me?! THE WORLD IS MINE!"
____
Rowley jolted awake, his scream slicing through the silence of the night. His body trembled, drenched in a clammy sweat that clung to his skin.
"That's the fourth time this month," Callos remarked, his tone casual, devoid of any hint of concern. He lounged in the ornate hotel chair, idly toying with a homemade explosive. The device, capable of devastating a car or worse, seemed insignificant in his hands, treated as casually as a child's plaything, something to be discarded once the novelty wore off.
Rowley forced a weak smile, "It's nothing, Cal." He turned away, a wave of shame washing over him. He couldn't bear the thought of Callos witnessing his vulnerability, of seeing him in such a state of raw fear."Anyway," Rowley continued, his voice strained, "we've got a pit stop to make, right?" The words were a feeble attempt to divert attention from the situation, to shift the focus away from the haunting echoes of his nightmares.
Reed Rowley quickly gathered his composure and prepared for today’s event. Under the scorching midday sun, Reed Rowley and Callos emerged from the hotel, their movements casual, their expressions serene. But hidden beneath their chilling calmness lay a secret waiting to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting world.
With lazy indifference, they tossed the first of many homemade explosives into the trunk of their car. The metal casing glinted ominously in the harsh daylight, a stark contrast to the ordinary belongings scattered around it.
Reed whistled a tune as he added another explosive to the growing collection, while Callos leaned against the car, shielding his eyes from the glare as he checked his phone with disinterest.
"Think we've got enough firepower?" Reed quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye as he surveyed their handiwork.
Callos shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Never hurts to be prepared," he replied, his voice betraying none of the darkness lurking beneath the surface.
With each additional explosive they loaded, the tension in the air thickened, the weight of their actions hanging heavy over them. Yet, Callos remained disturbingly nonchalant, as if he were simply running errands on an ordinary day.
Reed settled into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life beneath him as he prepared to embark on their ominous journey. Beside him, Callos occupied the passenger seat, his expression betraying none of the apprehension swirling within his companion.
As they sped off into the distance, Reed's nerves got the better of him, his words tumbling out in a jittery stream of consciousness.
"T-This is pretty crazy, right?" he stammered, his voice tinged with hesitation. "I mean, do you know what we're gonna do? We'll definitely be the most infamous terrorists in the nation!"
Callos remained unperturbed by Reed's skittish rant, his attention seemingly elsewhere.
"We've got over a dozen hand-made explosive canisters," Reed continued, his voice growing increasingly frantic. "Do you think that'll be enough? We're criminals against all Demi-Humans now, ri-"
"Reed." Callos's interruption was swift and decisive, cutting off his anxious partner-in-crime mid-sentence. "Are you doubting me?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity rather than uncertainty, seeking Callos's perspective on their preparations rather than validation.
“N-No! Of course not! How could I ever doubt you, Cal?”
“Take your hands off the wheel.”
“...What?”
“I won’t repeat myself.”
“But…you know I can’t do that.”
Before he could utter another word, the deafening sound of a gunshot filled the car, followed by searing pain as Callos's bullet pierced his femur bone.
"FUCK! WHY DID YOU DO TH-" Reed's agonized cry was cut short as Callos forcefully pulled him away from the steering wheel, his foot slamming down on the accelerator with brutal force.
The car surged forward, hurtling through the streets at a breakneck speed, Reed's screams drowned out by the roar of the engine and the rush of wind. In that moment, as they raced towards an uncertain fate, Reed realized with chilling clarity that he was at the mercy of a man whose intentions were as unpredictable as they were deadly.
"Wait for it..." Callos's voice was eerily calm as he held Reed back, ensuring he couldn't reach the steering wheel. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Reed's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of impending doom.
As they hurtled through the streets at breakneck speed, Reed was once again reminded of his looming fear of death. The rush of wind whipped through the car, mingling with his panicked breaths, creating a cacophony of chaos. With each passing moment, the inevitability of their fate loomed larger, casting a shadow over them that seemed to grow with every heartbeat.
"Now!" Callos's command came suddenly, and with a swift motion, he released Reed, allowing him to regain control of the car just in time to steer them out of danger.
With a stroke of luck, they narrowly avoided colliding with oncoming traffic, but the chaos they left in their wake was undeniable. Countless drivers behind them were caught off guard, unable to react in time to the sudden disruption. Cars careened into each other, metal twisted and crumpled, while screams of panic filled the air.
In his child-like nature, Callos couldn't help but find amusement in the chaos unfolding around them, a manic laughter bubbling forth from his lips. But Reed, still reeling from the adrenaline-fueled ordeal, could only shout in frustration.
"D-Damn it! Don't play like that, Cal!" Reed's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and anger, the reality of their actions hitting him like a ton of bricks. He knew that their reckless antics had consequences far beyond their control, and he couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him from within.
I can’t become like Callos. I can’t become a beast, Reed thought to himself, his mind racing with the weight of their actions. Although he enjoyed larping as an intellectual killer, he was, in reality, a scared child who met a terrifying mentor figure in Callos. However, there was no going back. He had already ruined the lives of countless people, and for as long as he lived, he would never be forgiving.
[My name is ▂▂▃▅▅▃. I live in a quiet villa just outside the city, and my dream is to become a doctor.]
Alone in the quiet, two-story villa, Reed Rowley opened his eyes to a familiar blue ceiling. Rowley forced his sluggish body out of the comfortable twin-sized bed with all of his might as he rubbed the rheum out of his eyes. It was the start of another boring day.
“This place…”
Rowley left the room and walked down the hallway. However, something was…amiss. He stopped for a moment and analyzed his surroundings.
This painting…was it usually off-center? I can’t really see their faces either.
Were the walls usually purple?
The rug…something is off about the design. It definitely wasn’t this bland before.
In the eerie confines of his bathroom, Rowley went through the motions of his morning routine with mechanical precision. But today, as he stared into the mirror, he felt the chilling certainty that this reality was not as it seemed. It wasn't just fake; it was twisted, distorted.
His hands moved of their own accord, brushing teeth, rinsing, washing, while his mind screamed against the familiarity of this place, urging him to forget. Yet, lurking in the periphery of his vision were three grotesque figures, corpses torn apart, their mangled forms oozing blood and decay. They fixated on him with empty sockets, whispering incomprehensible words that clawed at his sanity."
“▂▂▃▅▅▃…▂▂▃▅▅▃…"
A primal terror gripped Rowley as he recoiled in horror, sweat drenching his trembling body. His surroundings seemed to warp and twist with each step the abominations took, their presence saturating the air with a suffocating aura of dread. This was not just fear; it was a manifestation of a love turned nightmarish, a love tainted with deceit and malice.
“G-Get away! I want nothing to do with you!” Rowley's voice quivered as he launched objects indiscriminately at the ghastly apparitions, desperation clawing at his throat. Toothbrushes, soap bars, hair products—all became weapons in his futile attempt to ward off the sinister specters that haunted him. But no matter how hard he fought, he knew deep down that these horrors were not so easily banished. They were ingrained in the very fabric of his existence, a reminder of the twisted love that threatened to consume him whole.
The phantoms whispered. “Come home…We…miss you…▂▂▃▅▅▃”
“▂▂▃▅▅▃…Why…did you…do…this?”
Their voices, fragmented and raspy, echoed through the bathroom, filling the air with a sickly pallor. Despite their disjointed speech, Reed Rowley understood their words all too well. With each lamenting whisper, it was as if they sought to ensnare him in their embrace, to merge with him in a macabre union. But Rowley resisted, vehemently rejecting their advances.
"You're not a part of me anymore! I don't need you!" His voice quaked with defiance as he pushed against the spectral forms. Yet, his struggles proved futile. The phantasms enveloped him in an oppressive darkness, their ethereal presence weighing him down like lead. It crept insidiously, suffocating him, consuming him from within. His limbs thrashed against the unseen force, but it was as if he fought against the inevitable tide. Desperation clawed at his throat as he gasped for air, but none came. Panic surged through him, a primal instinct to survive against the encroaching darkness.
"I won't succumb! Even if I'm alone, I'll survive!" His words rang out, defiant against the consuming void.But as the darkness tightened its grip, a manic laughter bubbled forth from Rowley's lips, a desperate declaration of dominance in the face of overwhelming despair.
"Do you hear me?! THE WORLD IS MINE!"
____
Rowley jolted awake, his scream slicing through the silence of the night. His body trembled, drenched in a clammy sweat that clung to his skin.
"That's the fourth time this month," Callos remarked, his tone casual, devoid of any hint of concern. He lounged in the ornate hotel chair, idly toying with a homemade explosive. The device, capable of devastating a car or worse, seemed insignificant in his hands, treated as casually as a child's plaything, something to be discarded once the novelty wore off.
Rowley forced a weak smile, "It's nothing, Cal." He turned away, a wave of shame washing over him. He couldn't bear the thought of Callos witnessing his vulnerability, of seeing him in such a state of raw fear."Anyway," Rowley continued, his voice strained, "we've got a pit stop to make, right?" The words were a feeble attempt to divert attention from the situation, to shift the focus away from the haunting echoes of his nightmares.
Reed Rowley quickly gathered his composure and prepared for today’s event. Under the scorching midday sun, Reed Rowley and Callos emerged from the hotel, their movements casual, their expressions serene. But hidden beneath their chilling calmness lay a secret waiting to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting world.
With lazy indifference, they tossed the first of many homemade explosives into the trunk of their car. The metal casing glinted ominously in the harsh daylight, a stark contrast to the ordinary belongings scattered around it.
Reed whistled a tune as he added another explosive to the growing collection, while Callos leaned against the car, shielding his eyes from the glare as he checked his phone with disinterest.
"Think we've got enough firepower?" Reed quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye as he surveyed their handiwork.
Callos shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Never hurts to be prepared," he replied, his voice betraying none of the darkness lurking beneath the surface.
With each additional explosive they loaded, the tension in the air thickened, the weight of their actions hanging heavy over them. Yet, Callos remained disturbingly nonchalant, as if he were simply running errands on an ordinary day.
Reed settled into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life beneath him as he prepared to embark on their ominous journey. Beside him, Callos occupied the passenger seat, his expression betraying none of the apprehension swirling within his companion.
As they sped off into the distance, Reed's nerves got the better of him, his words tumbling out in a jittery stream of consciousness.
"T-This is pretty crazy, right?" he stammered, his voice tinged with hesitation. "I mean, do you know what we're gonna do? We'll definitely be the most infamous terrorists in the nation!"
Callos remained unperturbed by Reed's skittish rant, his attention seemingly elsewhere.
"We've got over a dozen hand-made explosive canisters," Reed continued, his voice growing increasingly frantic. "Do you think that'll be enough? We're criminals against all Demi-Humans now, ri-"
"Reed." Callos's interruption was swift and decisive, cutting off his anxious partner-in-crime mid-sentence. "Are you doubting me?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity rather than uncertainty, seeking Callos's perspective on their preparations rather than validation.
“N-No! Of course not! How could I ever doubt you, Cal?”
“Take your hands off the wheel.”
“...What?”
“I won’t repeat myself.”
“But…you know I can’t do that.”
Before he could utter another word, the deafening sound of a gunshot filled the car, followed by searing pain as Callos's bullet pierced his femur bone.
"FUCK! WHY DID YOU DO TH-" Reed's agonized cry was cut short as Callos forcefully pulled him away from the steering wheel, his foot slamming down on the accelerator with brutal force.
The car surged forward, hurtling through the streets at a breakneck speed, Reed's screams drowned out by the roar of the engine and the rush of wind. In that moment, as they raced towards an uncertain fate, Reed realized with chilling clarity that he was at the mercy of a man whose intentions were as unpredictable as they were deadly.
"Wait for it..." Callos's voice was eerily calm as he held Reed back, ensuring he couldn't reach the steering wheel. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Reed's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of impending doom.
As they hurtled through the streets at breakneck speed, Reed was once again reminded of his looming fear of death. The rush of wind whipped through the car, mingling with his panicked breaths, creating a cacophony of chaos. With each passing moment, the inevitability of their fate loomed larger, casting a shadow over them that seemed to grow with every heartbeat.
"Now!" Callos's command came suddenly, and with a swift motion, he released Reed, allowing him to regain control of the car just in time to steer them out of danger.
With a stroke of luck, they narrowly avoided colliding with oncoming traffic, but the chaos they left in their wake was undeniable. Countless drivers behind them were caught off guard, unable to react in time to the sudden disruption. Cars careened into each other, metal twisted and crumpled, while screams of panic filled the air.
In his child-like nature, Callos couldn't help but find amusement in the chaos unfolding around them, a manic laughter bubbling forth from his lips. But Reed, still reeling from the adrenaline-fueled ordeal, could only shout in frustration.
"D-Damn it! Don't play like that, Cal!" Reed's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and anger, the reality of their actions hitting him like a ton of bricks. He knew that their reckless antics had consequences far beyond their control, and he couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him from within.
I can’t become like Callos. I can’t become a beast, Reed thought to himself, his mind racing with the weight of their actions. Although he enjoyed larping as an intellectual killer, he was, in reality, a scared child who met a terrifying mentor figure in Callos. However, there was no going back. He had already ruined the lives of countless people, and for as long as he lived, he would never be forgiving.
