Redemption a.k.a. The Mask III

[Dwz]

So since SHF went down before I got an oportunity to even post a second chapter to a new story of mine I decided to post it here in case anyone gets as bored as to actually read it <_<

1

A man stands in an empty parking lot, quietly looking up into the silver moon shining down on him. The bright reflection of light illuminates the man’s clothes. Dark and dirty army boots rest calmly in the muddy ground below his feet. Worn down, grey jeans sway a little to the empty breeze. His black shirt greedily absorbs the eerie light where the shirt material isn’t actually torn, his chest that is covered in scars upon scars … battle trophies … takes in the rest of the light through the torn fabric of his shirt. Wind plays and mocks him with the whistling sound it makes as it enters the man’s mouth through the decayed hole on his cheek and exits through the one on the other side of his face.

As he stands there his arm fingers start twitching violently, he clutches his fist as he notices it. He lifts his arm up and looks at it. His body still thinks he is dead, his arms and feet still feel sore, as if not a drop of blood has been running through those veins in a long time and actually that’s what it was. His nerve endings were still trying to come back to life but with little luck. His vision was still blurry, like through a thick layer of smog, everything was either black or white or somewhere in between. His left lung was mocking him, every time he exhaled he could feel its fabrics stick to one another and every time he inhaled he could feel a portion of the air escaping through that bullet hole in his lung that killed him in the first place.

Feeling his fingers calming down he lets his grip loose and watches as they recline back, he grabbed them with his other hand and started contorting them, no pain … yet.

Aside from a few drawbacks on his cheeks, left lung and his nerve endings Bryan had gained a lot. He had escaped the dark bindings of that accursed mask and its malicious will, he was no longer a slave to the endless, torturous images that plagued his mind every night in his dreams and, occasionally, even during the day, no longer was he forced to quench the endless thirst for blood and murder that the mask used to poison him with, it all went away when he was killed by that policeman, that man took over the curse of the mask, Bryan was sure of it, no one could resist its evil will, no one could escape its iron clutches.
And now, after being resurrected to life, after taking down the nightmares of hell itself, Bryan had even escaped Death itself, he had accomplished the unaccomplishable, cheated and laughed Death in the face.

Overlooking the tall buildings silently soaking in the moonlight further away from where he stood Bryan took a deep breath trying to ignore the whistling sound his lung made and pulled his feet out of the mud below where they had sunk. He walked into a narrow alleyway leading away from the warehouse. As he walked his legs twitched on a random note, it was frustrating, he punched them every time not knowing how else to stop the random twitching. In the distance he saw something move by the huge metal waste bin, as he got closer he realized it was just a homeless person curled up in newspapers and dirty rags. Bryan hadn’t really noticed the cold but he knew it was the middle of winter, he could see his own breath in the shape of smoke as he exhaled. That was the only real indicator. Bryan’s skin was still pale white.

He came up to the man on the ground and crouched before him, “Nice jacket you have there, I’d need something like that to …” he paused before turning his face to the side so that the man could see his decayed face, “… to hide this,” Bryan finished.

The man’s eyes widened in terror, he moved back but hit the wall behind him, there was nowhere else he could go but he would gladly be anywhere but there right then, Bryan could see fear in the man’s eyes.

“Am I that scary?” Bryan asked a little mockingly and smiled showing the rest of his teeth that couldn’t be seen through the holes on his face. He grabbed the man by his throat, locking his cold, still dead fingers firmly around him. Holding the man he looked over the clothes he bore. Satisfied with what he saw he locked his eyes on the man who was desperately trying to free himself from Bryan’s grip. “Shhhhhh,” Bryan exclaimed as if calming a baby and pulled his hand back in one quick motion. Everything went numb and silent after that as Bryan watched half of the man’s throat still in his grip and now a dead body with a widely torn open throat before him. He knew he was stronger but this still took him by surprise, he intended to snap the man’s throat, instead he ripped it out.

Bryan picked the body up with one hand and took the jacket off with the other. He then threw the body to the side and put the jacket on. It was an old jacket with stains all over, it was torn in many places as well but most importantly it had a big hood that could hide the face completely. Bryan threw it over his head and his face disappeared in the shadow of the hood completely. He left the body behind him and walked towards a place he used to spend time in when the mask wasn’t controlling his mind, a very old and abandoned house on the edge of the poorest neighborhood in town - home.

Using one dark alleyway after another he silently made his way through that maze of concrete and steel. Accompanying him on his journey were rats and stray cats, watching carefully from metal ladders on the side of buildings, waste bins and smashed cellar windows.

Bryan was careful to avoid the streets with how he looked now for he would have been stopped by someone sooner or later and he wasn’t going to risk being shot again by some policeman or thug or in a fit of rage or massacre. Not after he had gone through so much to be alive again, well, half alive. Still unsure whether he had the mask’s hunger for death or not Bryan decided to first figure out what he had now become.

Finally, after a long walk he approached the empty field by the city outskirts and the lone, shabby house standing there and welcoming him back home with its broken windows and rotten wooden walls.

[Dwz]

2


The house still looked the same inside as it did outside: cut and torn sofas lay scattered across the room. Shattered glass shards that once were windows reflected the little light from outside as was dawn was already working its way across the rotten wooden floor. They were silently accompanying old, heavy rocks that were used to break the windows in the first place. Newspapers and garbage provided a nice home for the rats that took care of the house in Bryan’s absence. Stupid graffiti now replaced the few layers of different wallpapers that were unglued from the moist walls. Broken TV’s and Stereo’s joyfully assisted for a more chaotic and abandoned look. The staircase to the second floor was damaged more than before though, most of the steps now bore holes.

Bryan shut the front door behind him but it opened up again, it was held by only one hinge now, barely resembling a door anymore, more like a big piece of plywood with holes in it. He left the door semi opened and continued to the second floor where he always used to stay. As he ascended the stairs one of the steps gave way on him and his foot sank through the brittle wood, Bryan cursed silently and after pulling his leg out continued on to the second floor.

As soon as he reached the second floor he stopped before a huge old carpet, he recalled why it was put there, there was a massive hole in the ground and the carpet was put over it so that whoever tried to come in there would fall through the big hole warning Bryan about any unwanted guests. The house was like one big booby trap, one had to know where to step and how hard to step or else one would fall through something or break one’s legs into something. He stepped to the side carefully holding close to the wall and made his way around the carpet continuing into the bathroom to his left.

The bathroom looked as hideous as ever, the toilet half broken, the water tank was still in tact but the water within it was less than desirable for any kind of use. Aside from a few corrosion induced scars the tub could be labeled as whole too, unlike the shower pipe that was bent in ways one would have trouble making out what it was tried to be bent into. The mirror was probably the only thing that could still be used in the room, of course it was cracked and covered in dust but at least it was cracked in two nice big pieces.

Bryan approached the mirror and grabbed an old newspaper off the ground. Cleaning the mirror he started making out a hooded man’s face looking back at him. It was his reflection staring right back from the other side of the mirror. Bryan had forgotten how he looked without the mask on, so the reflection startled him a little at first but then he got accustomed to it as he recognized the familiar facial features. He took his hood down and inspected his own face more carefully. Moving his head side to side Bryan watched in amazement at his own teeth showing through his decayed cheeks, he put his finger to his left cheek lifting and pulling at the flesh, he couldn’t feel anything except him touching it.

He took his coat off and lifted his shirt, Bryan’s left chest side had a gun inflicted hole, he still felt his lung not functioning properly every time he inhaled and exhaled but he was no doctor, he had no idea how to make it work again and it didn’t bother him that much anyway, there was no pain. Grabbing the coat he left for his room.

Entering the room he used to sleep in Bryan noticed it was covered in graffiti too, probably some kids playing around in an old house, well if they came back again Bryan would give them a show to remember. He pulled the old mattress from the corner of the room and positioned it by the wall near the door. He threw his coat on it and sat down leaning against the hard wall, thinking to himself.

A million questions plagued his mind: Could he feel anything at all anymore, perhaps after some time? Would he bleed if he was injured? Would his chest or cheeks heal? Was it possible to pass this decay onto someone else? Does he age anymore? Where was the limit of his strength? Just how much strength did he have and was it definite or would it fade?

As soon as he tried to think of one thing a dozen new questions bombarded his head all over again. Answers were always harder to acquire than questions, but Bryan’s answers were extremely well hidden, he had no idea where to look or how to explain his own being.

The day passed sooner than Bryan could notice, and before long his room was already welcoming the stagnant silver of the moon on its floor before him. The only thing that Bryan figured out throughout the day was that he needed to test his theories on what he was. Surely trouble was around every corner in such a shabby neighborhood at this time of the night. Bryan got up and put his coat on with the hood thrown over his face. He didn’t want to scare anyone away, at least not until he wanted them to be scared.

Oh and ... comments are welcomed ... all kinds

[blackkat]

This is good stuff, again it has a different tone to the first two parts, this one has alot more concrete imagery and description and its really good. (LIke part two was really action packed and part one had that detective/film noir feel to it. Am really enjoying it, (as the others) - will look forward to next bit

[Dwz]

Ahhh you made it Nice to have you here And thanks for the kind words

3


Standing outside the house Bryan looked over the empty street, bent lampposts and road signs substituted trees, crumbled and potholed pavement imitated dirt and grass, broken benches perfectly represented stumps, it was as beautiful as it was hideous, a true forest of metal and concrete.

With his hood safely hiding his entire face Bryan carefully moved down the few stairs that lead to the porch, stepping on the sides so as not to break them. There was no one around in the street but Bryan knew he’d find someone in one alley or another. He moved along the road glancing to the alleys on the sides, looking for someone, anyone.

He stopped before a narrow alley, “Perfect,” he thought to himself as he noticed a few silhouettes in the distance. He entered the small crack between two houses that was an alley towards the two figures. Coming closer he noticed there were three of them, two men and a little boy leaning against a corner, the men were probably trying to rob the boy.

“Hey,” he said from a distance to the two men.

They both turned around and saw Bryan standing a little further from them, “Get lost, if you know what’s good for you,” one of the men said and faced the little boy again.

From what Bryan could gather the boy couldn’t have been any older than fifteen or so, as the moon was shining from behind Bryan he could clearly see the two men and the boy who was leaning against a wall and a metal dumpster, cornered before the two thugs.

“Hey,” Bryan said again, his voice was emotionless, even the wind that occasionally blew in his face made more emotion as it whistled through his gaping holes in his cheeks.

This time both men turned towards Bryan as they watched him slowly come up to them, still hiding his face in the safety of his hood. “You’re looking for trouble there, mate?” one of the thugs said, Bryan noticed him playing with a butterfly knife in his hand.

“Can’t you pick a more fair fight?” Bryan said looking over one of the thugs at the kid shivering in the corner. He always believed that any adversary had the right to have a fair fight.

The thugs looked at each other in amazement at how Bryan was talking to them, “Stab that arrogant bastard,” one of them said to the other one that was holding the butterfly knife and so he did, he thrust the blade in Bryan’s shoulder. Bryan quickly moved his shoulder to the side making the man let go of his knife, it was now stuck in Bryan’s shoulder, he grabbed it with his hand, pulled it out and looked at it. It had little blood on it, far less than one would expect but it had some either way. Bryan’s speculation was right, his body was still coming back to life, little by little but it definitely was. Pain was still something that Bryan had to wait to have back. He didn’t feel any pain as the blade entered his shoulder. He only felt that it did enter in the first place.

“I think this belongs to you,” Bryan said and slammed the blade in one man’s shoulder, the blade went in deep just past the collar bone, the man screamed in pain and threw himself back. Bryan turned his hidden face towards the other man who put up his hands and started retreating backwards slowly, showing that he had no weapon. Bryan watched as the unarmed man ran as soon as he got some distance between himself and Bryan. He turned the other man on the ground screaming and trying to pull the blade out only to release the grip on it from the pain he suffered. Bryan came up to him and put his leg firmly on the man’s stomach, holding him down, he grabbed the blade and twisted it a little watching the man squirm before he pulled it out with one quick move. “Nice blade, mind if I have it?” he said as he lifted the man with no real effort into the air holding him firmly by the throat. Bryan felt the man struggling and grasping his hand, the man grew weak rapidly as Bryan’s iron grip tightened around the man’s neck squeezing the remaining air out of his lungs and soon the man’s hand let go of Bryan and swung to the side lifeless. Bryan let the man’s body fall to the ground like a marionette.

“Hey Mister, thank you for saving me,” the boy said from behind Bryan.

Bryan turned around and approached the little boy, he grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up to his face, he took his hood down letting the boy see his decayed face, “I wasn’t help you,” he said and was about to slam him into the wall when he thought of something. There was no need to kill the boy, and now Bryan actually had a choice. He hesitated a little but then released his hold over the boy making him fall to the ground. “Perhaps this was what people call free will?” he thought to himself. That concept was unknown to Bryan but perhaps that was it. “Get lost, kid,” he said turning and walking away from the boy, leaving him there with a puzzled expression.

[Dwz]

Moving on

4


The boy stood in the cold, narrow alleyway watching as the man walked away from him, the man’s face was so scary, and yet, it looked so cool. That man was huge, when he lifted the boy up only then did he notice that he was at least four times smaller than the man. The boy was terrified when the man held him in the air, effortlessly with one hand, but he somehow knew the big man wouldn’t do anything to him, why would someone do harm to a person he just saved? It wouldn’t make any sense.

After hesitating for a little bit more the boy gathered his strength and ran after the tall man. “Hey, Mister, can I come with you? I wouldn’t want to meet that other guy again,” the boy said as he caught up to Bryan.

“No,” Bryan mumbled out continuing in his fast pace. The boy had trouble keeping up with his fast footsteps.

“Please, Mister, I don’t have anywhere else to go,” the boy continued.

“I don’t care,” Bryan replied.

The boy stopped and watched as Bryan disappeared around the next corner, he felt discouraged but had nowhere else to go, he was one of those stray children that either had bad or dead parents, or worse yet, parents that cared more about running away from daily problems with the help of alcohol or other substances than taking care of their own child. He wouldn’t be missed by anyone if Bryan hadn’t shown up to help him with those two men.
--------------------

After getting back to the house Bryan went into the bathroom and inspected his wound, he noticed some dried up blood just below the wound, it must’ve meant that he bled … somewhat … he gripped the wound with his hand and rubbed his thumb on it to clean the dried blood. The wound was already shrinking a little. Was this another new power that was awakening within him? He felt no pain when he got stabbed but the wound bled a little, he didn’t tend the wound but it was healing anyway. Bryan returned to his room and lay down on the mattress thinking to himself.

A few hours later he heard the wooden stairs crack as if someone was walking on them; it must’ve been the kids that left the graffiti all over the walls again. He quietly got up and approached the door ready to grab whoever would walk over the gap in the floor that the carpet covered. As soon as he heard the person get to the second floor he shot out of his room and grabbed him by the hand.

Dirty old jeans with holes torn here and there. Black sneakers with no shoelaces, an old dark green sweater covered by a brown jacket, a black winter hat hiding the hair … looking down at who he was holding by one hand over the gaping hole Bryan realized it was the same boy from the alleyway, “What are you doing here?” he asked the boy a little frustrated.

“I wanted to repay you for saving my life, I brought you some canned food but I dropped it when you caught me,” the boy replied.

Bryan looked down through the hole into the first floor and saw a few cans on the ground by the carpet that previously covered the hole. He pulled the boy over the hole and let him go before himself. The boy stood there unsure of what else to say seeing Bryan stare at him, “Are you not afraid?” Bryan asked clearly turning his face side to side.

“I was a little at first but you don’t look so bad now,” the boy shot back with a tiny smile on his face.

Bryan was puzzled. Fear was what made every kill so satisfying. It was fear that he fed upon from his adversaries but this boy was not disturbed by him, not one bit. He looked down at the boy before him who stood there looking to the sides and inspecting the house with his eyes more than looking at Bryan.

“My name’s Robert, but you can call me Rob, what’s yours, Mister?” the boy inquired.

Bryan frowned and went back to his room slamming the door behind him, leaving the boy in the hall. There was no satisfaction in killing someone that did not fear him. Bryan wondered why the boy wasn’t afraid of how he looked. It made no sense to him but he decided to leave the boy be for he was nowhere near a threat to Bryan.

About half an hour later Bryan heard someone knock on the door, “Hey, Mister, I got that food from downstairs for you, you hungry?” the boy said from behind the door.

Bryan hadn’t really thought about it but he did feel hunger, although it was much weaker than it should have been, he hadn’t eaten in a day now but he felt as if he was as hungry as not haven eaten for an hour or so. He approached the door and opened it watching the boy stand before him with two cans of beef in each hand. Bryan took the food and left the door open. The boy hesitated a little but eventually went in and sat down before Bryan watching him eating his canned delight. When Bryan was done eating the boy took the empty cans and scrapped the remaining meat of the sides, he ate the little leftovers like it was a banquet, “Bring me more in the morning,” Bryan said watching as the boy’s smile widened on his face.

[Dwz]

And this is something I tried experimenting with ... perspective chapters .... there will be more of these

5 - Rob


If you would you ask me to describe my life I would reply by simply saying yours was better at the very least. It’s hard when your parents care more about finding a way to get high than caring for their own kid. It’s even harder when they completely ignore you on a daily basis. Many would figure this to be the perfect excuse for doing what one wanted … true, it was fun … at least, to a certain age. Say what you want but not having parents that care is a bad thing. You’re sitting there in your cozy chair, in a warm home, surrounded by your loved ones. Imagine all of that suddenly taken away from you, you being deprived of all your supremacies. You’d find yourself living in my skin then.

At least I had the pleasure of knowing WHO my parents were, that was about all I got though. My father – an alcoholic slash gambler, whatever he earned he either gambled away or spent drinking to near coma but usually he spent the money with mum. He used to come home and drop dead anywhere he saw fit, I’d sometimes find him in the hallway passed out from the night before, he always smelled of tobacco and cheap perfume that was more disgusting than smelly.

My mother cared for me, to a certain extent. I guess knowing dad was always out having fun drove her to start looking for someone who could give her the compassion that she needed so much for I, apparently, couldn’t offer the type of compassion she wanted. All in all she was a good mom. Do you wonder why I’m talking about my parents in the past tense? No, they’re not dead. As a matter of fact I still “live” with them. Well, technically only, by now mom turned to making money on the street while dad spends the nights with his mates drinking away the little money that he earns.

They simply cannot afford to have a kid. That kid would be me. So they just let me do whatever I want to. Let me is a bad expression … I’d rather say … they force me to do whatever I NEED to stay on my toes. Sure, I have a place to sleep but I’d rather sleep on a bench out in the cold than in that smelly apartment of ours, especially when one of them comes back from Mr. George. Mr. George is what you would call a local businessman. He sells them both weird pills and powder. I sometimes find leftovers of those on the table while they’re both sleeping by the sofa in the mornings.

So what else was I supposed to do? I spent days and nights as far away from “family” as I possibly could. I’m a great thief but a poor fighter. That was brought to my attention rather clearly when I got jumped by those two thugs, they were probably just looking for someone to mug to get a dose. I could have overrun them if I wasn’t cornered, luckily that man showed up to save my sorry butt.

My god, that man was massive, those two thugs were tall and skinny but that man was still standing there looking down on them both. I couldn’t believe someone could be as big as he was. And his face covered behind his hood, he looked so creepy just standing there as the moon cheerfully assisted him with light from behind his back. I thought he’d be done for with one of those men having a knife but it turned out that was no match for him. I was still shivering in the corner when he was holding that one man effortlessly in the air by one hand and yet I somehow knew he wouldn’t do me any harm.

As big he and as scary his face looked to be I still felt a somewhat welcoming presence from him. He reminded me of a stray dog that always tried to look tough but actually only needed care. Although that man saying one word in his rigid voice was scarier than a thousand dogs barking, it was so cold and emotionless. Every time he said something it felt as if his voice was piercing through your soul.

After I brought him that canned meat that I stole from a small shop I knew that he was grateful for it although in no way did he show it. He let me stay there that night. The next morning I got him some more food, I could tell he was grateful, he left a decent amount of meat in those cans, you would figure he just ate the good bits but actually what he left was enough for me to stuff my little belly full.

It all fell into place after that, I brought him food and in return he let me stay in that house. One time he even showed me the parts of the house that I could fall through or get injured if I wasn’t careful. I smiled at him for doing that and said thanks but he just frowned, it was a little funny, I must admit.

Very soon the winter came to and end, two whole months flew by quite fast. Just as I figured, my parents hadn’t missed me, not one bit, I once went back home to see if they were still alive, unsurprisingly I found them both sleeping on the floor, bottles and syringes scattered on the floor by their feet, I got the few clothes that I had and left.

The man never told me his name so I just kept on calling him Mister. Once some kids decided to come and play in our house, bad idea, Mister lifted them both up about a meter of the ground. I was a little scared whether he’d do something bad to them at first but to my surprise he turned to me while holding the two kids. Oh how good it felt, I looked back at those kids and smirked teasing them with what I should do. Of course I asked Mister to let them go eventually, after running over some nasty scenarios of what he could do to them, he dropped them! I laughed so hard watching those kids run like hell out of the house.

In a way Mister was like a father I never had, he wasn’t talkative but that was okay, I think I understood him without words anyway. When he did talk he used to tell me stories about some man fighting monsters in hell. I’ve never heard a story like that. He used to tell me little bits of it once or twice a week. I loved listening to that story.

[blackkat]

Hey,
I like the character of the kid i think he is bringing a whole new level to Bryan and it is intriguing.
I have a thought on the last chapter- when you first introduced the kid earlier he sound well like a kid saying 'hey mister...' in this last chapter the kids voice sounds very mature eg 'he looked so creepy just standing there as the moon cheerfully assisted him with light from behind his back.' you use good metaphors but some are maybe too good for a childs perspective? I like the way the kid says stuff like 'luckily that man showed up to save my sorry butt.' -etc (Do you know what i mean hope i dont sound harsh because i really like your work )
Though i do think the way you have used the kids perspective of the story to also portray Bryans' story is a clever move - it works well.

[Dwz]

Yeah, I most likely went a little overboard with the kid's perspective now that you mention it But then again this seriousness of that kid can be explained Though I'd spoil everything right now if I did XD ... Another perspective chapter!!!

6 - Bryan


I’m not sure why I let that brat stay in the house. With a face like mine it was a little hard getting out and buying food, if you know what I mean. And I was trying to see just long I could go on without getting out there and slaying someone. Now free of that prison that the mask held me in I wanted to forget my past, killing just wasn’t a thirst that I had to quench anymore. I guess you could say that we scratched each other’s backs. He brought me food and in return I let him stay in the house. I even told him what I’ve been through although impersonating myself in third person.

I never told him my name. I much rather preferred him calling me Mister than by my real name, for my real name only reminded me of who I was rather than of who I was trying to become. Who was I trying to become? I can’t really say, just someone that doesn’t feed off death I suppose.

During the two months that the boy stayed with me I had regained most of my senses. At first I started feeling cold as I woke up one cold winter night realizing that I was shivering, I crouched trying to keep any warmth I might have had in my body, it didn’t really work, I only fell asleep when the boy curled up next to me like some dog, keeping me a little warmer. Next came pain, once inspecting the wounds on my body I felt a deep sharp pain in my cheeks, as if someone poured salt over a fresh wound, it took me by surprise that time. Those few weeks were agony, my body was burning from the inside out, my chest, cheeks, shoulder and legs were aching with every second. Are you wondering why I say those few weeks? I started healing after that, the decayed flesh on my cheeks fell off like scabs and in place of them the holes started drawing in, the gunshot hole in my chest healed over six days, it completely vanished and I could feel my lung functioning properly again.

I couldn’t explain why this was happening but I just knew it was. My fingers or feet didn’t twitch after a few days either. Although I had retained my strength, I still could crush a man’s skull effortlessly … or … open a can of food with my bare hands.

That boy reminded me of how I looked when I was about his age, I don’t remember much of my past or anything else before the mask, so it was a blurry déjà vu if you may. He told me about his parents, how they didn’t care about him and how bad they were, I offered to kill them for him but he just laughed and said that wasn’t the answer, but why not? I didn’t understand that, I heard him talk about them with such hate and agony and yet he didn’t want them dead. What better way was there to dispose of that which you despised than to kill it?

Sometimes I questioned him about that, he’d reply in long stories about why children must respect their parents no matter what. He used to tell me what morale is. He clarified what was good and what was bad. It was so hard to understand that, sometimes these things contradicted one another and yet he said it was supposed to be that way. I couldn’t grasp clearly what morale was but I somehow enjoyed listening to him talk about that. You must understand, during those years … years … I can’t even clearly recall how long I’ve been under the mask’s influence, ten years? Twelve? Fifteen? Or more? I just knew it was way over a decade of rage and destruction. With it having control over you good and bad cease to exist, it all comes down to what it tells you to do, that’s the only thing you can really do. It doesn’t matter how strong willed you might be either, in my visions of past hosts I’ve seen some incredibly strong willed people, trying to defy it, free from it, they all failed, they all succumbed, and they all eventually died, I did too.

I somehow felt weird around that kid. I felt peaceful watching him trying to clean up the litter in the house only for more to be blown inside through the broken windows. I felt calm watching him try to fight and punch me, his little fist was so tiny, it easily disappeared in my grasp. Maybe I had a family before that madness? I didn’t even know what it meant to have a family anyway. Maybe this piece and quiet inside of me was it? I just knew that I’d kill anyone that would try to harm the kid … funny … first time I met him I nearly did that myself, and now I’d do that to others that would try to pull anything on him.

I taught Rob on how to act if he got caught while he was out getting food. I knew that pretty well. I showed him where to aim his fist to inflict maximum damage, where to kick to break his opponent’s leg. But most importantly I never let him leave the house without a knife. Rob learned how to handle it rather well, pretty soon the knife was as much part of him as his own arms. He was fast and agile, aiming precisely where it would hurt most. I was proud of him although he was taught never use the knife, unless it was absolutely necessary. I’m not sure why I didn’t encourage him to simply go out and kill someone, taking the person’s wallet, I suppose I just thought if I wasn’t forced to do it after so many years of it then he didn’t need to go through the same.

One day when he returned with a big loaf of bread and a nice juicy piece of meat he had a newspaper with him too, I wasn’t really the reading type but the headline caught my attention, it went something along the lines of:

Killer still not apprehended

Another two bodies have been added to the mass murderer’s kill count today. A young couple in a downtown apartment was found brutally killed. The victims bore multiple stabbing wounds, the female desecrated. Upon further inspection it was discovered that the tongues of the victims were cut out, experts say that was done while they were still alive so as they would not make any sound. The signature murderer’s trace was left on the murder scene: a knife in each of the victim’s hearts. Sources do not disclose the possibility that this might be the return of the mass murderer that ravaged over seven years ago, but so far this is only speculation. With this newest double murder the body count is up to sixty nine. The murderer first started his killing spree just over a year ago, leaving his signature in every murder scene.

The article went on but I didn’t need to read anymore, I already knew perfectly well who it was talking about. The newspaper article was referring to me as that mass murderer that vanished seven years ago but I didn’t vanish, the mask’s thirst grew so powerful after a few years of me doing its biding that my murder scenes didn’t look anything alike anymore. I barely left bodies in tact and it’s not like I could do anything about it either. I couldn’t fight it. That man still can, he’s only been under its influence for a bit over a year. He is still trying to fight it, oh how well I know that feeling. Unfortunately it is futile. The article talked about a man that killed me and at the same time freed me: that detective.

[blackkat]

RE my previous reply - i thought there was a possibility of something deeper for the Kids intelligence. -So it will work out when i find out more about him...
Ive just read your last installment like i said above i think the kid is bringing a whole new perspective of Bryan. Its good how the two teach each other, and how there is almost a father son bond now.
Its good

[Dwz]

With Rob the point was to show a somewhat different side to Bryan, contrary to his evil and not caring side

And now let's revisit an "old" character. I'm very fond of the next two chapters, I really like how they turned out in my own taste ...

7


“Please, what do you want from me? I don’t have anything,” a man pleads to another man who is ravaging through the quiet suburban house.

The living room looks like it was turned upside down: the sofa turned over, its pillows slashed and feathers scattered all around the carpet which bears muddy footsteps left behind by the burglar, the once beautiful glass table now shattered into a million pieces some of which still rest in the house owner’s back, paintings and vases, slashed and broken, lay everywhere.

A long yet narrow trail of blood leads from the sofa, it goes across the huge carpet with graceful patterns, along the wood imitating laminate trail, which leads to the stairs, and into the kitchen where it stops near a man in his mid thirties.

He sat there leaning against the kitchen counter, his face contorted with pain. Blood was freely rushing from his legs. The man’s leg sinews were slashed. Not being able to stand from the wound inflicted upon him he must have dragged himself to the kitchen in hopes of finding a knife but all of them were gone. The drawers were empty. A spoon was hardly a weapon. He could hear the burglar coming down the stairs from the second floor, the man’s heart nearly froze as he watched the other man calmly walk towards him with two knives from the same kitchen in both hands.

The burglar stopped before the house owner who lay on the floor bleeding, not able to move his feet. The bright light from the living room still illuminated the burglar clearly: black casual shoes scratched and muddied, dark blue jeans with splatters of blood, a white shirt underneath the gleaming black leather jacket and a terrifying mask covering the burglar’s face. It wasn’t a mask you could buy in any ordinary Halloween shop, it looked like it was made from some hard material and it was cracked in many places, looked extremely old yet very sturdy at the same time. The teeth on the mask were broken, some missing a portion, others simply cracked. A red grinded away nose gave away what the mask depicted … a clown. Empty eyes stared at the man on the floor through the holes in the faceless mask. Two knives bearing blood of the victim rested in each palm.

The man on the floor overlooked the tall figure before him trembling in fear when he noticed something reflecting the room light. Something metallic poked out beneath the leather jacket that the burglar wore. As the man looked deeper into it he realized it was a policeman badge, “How can you do this, you’re a cop? I haven’t done anything wrong,” the man begged with tears of despair rolling down his face.

The burglar looked down his waist to see the badge for himself. “I was a cop …” he said and paused as if being startled.

And indeed a cop he was, a man with the relentless motivation to punish the bad and protect the good, never had he done anything wrong throughout the endless years that he served in the force. He was the man to catch and kill the infamous masked murderer Bryan. But such devotion to justice came at a very high price, a price that he paid involuntarily. He sacrificed his life, his sanity and everyone he cared about to bring such justice and even when he had accomplished that the circle started all over again with him. He had become that which he hunted and despised for so long, a killer driven by a rage and hunger for massacre that cannot be explained or controlled. John Carter – a man of endless good, now reduced to a creature of torment, a being that has nothing else beside a mask that feeds him power in exchange for blood and death.

Right then his right arm, that held a knife, started twitching violently, he slammed it into a nearby wooden door casing, the blade went in deeply, John held his breath for a second shaking as he stood there.

The man on the floor watched this fit of John’s, confused and puzzled, “Please, I have a wife … a child, just take what you need and leave, I don’t want to loose my family,” the man cried out with his hands tucked into his face as he sobbed on the floor.

John’s breath hastened after hearing that, he clutched his free hand firmly so that it wouldn’t twitch as much and glared down at them man, “Family? Family?!?!” he screamed, breathing as heavily and violently as ever. “You think I wanted to loose mine?!!!!!!” he yelled back at the man.

Not able to hold back any longer, John rammed the knife into the man’s chest and heard the wood of the kitchen counter splinter behind the victim. It went clean through and further. John left the knife there and collapsed to the floor on his knees. He put up his hands to his face but only felt touching the cold mask instead. As he stayed there kneeling he recalled his beautiful wife and son. It wasn’t often that the mask loosened its grip over John’s mind, or any other previous host’s mind for that matter, and let him actually remember his own life instead of being plagued with images of what the mask and the hosts of the past had done. Tears rolled down his face, dripping from his chin as he couldn’t contain them.

He would have done anything to break free from this curse that bound him, while wearing this mask sanity was only a faint dream, free will - an illusion. It would make you do whatever, whenever and however it wanted to. And as if showing its superiority, the mask started burning into John’s face, as if it was digging deeper into his skin only to have more control over him. The insatiable hunger that John knew oh so well had come back. He felt his mind drifting into nothingness as he got up and pulled the other knife from the door casing, laughing as he did so.

[Dwz]

Another perspective thingy!!!

8 – John


As I was standing before a man who was bleeding to death from a throat wound that I inflicted upon him and cleaning blood of my knife I was cursing my very existence yet again. I looked down at the blade and saw that mask smiling back at me with its devilish smile. I saw my caged eyes pleading for freedom from the empty eye sockets. I saw something clear dripping through the mask’s sockets and it wasn’t sweat. Suddenly feeling a sharp burning pain on my face I thrust the clean blade into the man’s chest and left it there, the pain on my face subsided … for now. It was satisfied, fed. I was somewhat free for a day but it would return to demand more, it always does.

Believe me when I say this, the things I have done weren’t done by me. I couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone kill countless people. What would you do if there was an insatiable hunger, a pain that twisted every bone in your body, a thirst that no drink in the world could quench, a force that would push you until it got what it craved for? Would you have the will to fight it? And if so, for how long could you defy it? You see I tried getting rid of this curse, oh I really, really tried. I tried taking the mask off but it only dug itself deeper, burning into my skin and flesh as if a louse that you were trying to remove. I tried defying its cravings in hopes it would give up sooner than I did but as punishment it tormented my mind with the vilest images I have ever seen: horrible visions of war in person, some of the goriest murders that it had forced men into doing, and that’s not even half of what it showed me.

It felt as if I was going crazy and most likely I was, still am. Lastly, when I had given up any hope of ever setting myself free from it I even tried destroying it while it was still on my face, I figured if I died then so would it. No matter how hard I tried it always saw through my plans of suicide and stopped me the last second as if laughing and mocking my futile attempts of setting myself free.

A year had already passed since that damn day I put the mask on and embraced the curse that came with it. Why did I do it in the first place? Before I shot that serial killer … monster dead he managed to murder everyone I held dear, my family, my brother, my father, everyone. I simply had nothing to loose, justice had turned its back on me and I was left there abandoned of all hope with the only choice of inviting that which I spat on and despised for those endless years with me chasing that man. Perhaps I was foolish enough to think that it would help me forget what was so wantonly taken away from me. Now I realize how foolish of me it was to think that way. It didn’t help me forget, quite on the contrary, that thing only mocked me by letting me remember it all and then scorched my face with pain making me do what I vowed not to when I gave my life to “protect and serve.”

During this year I had killed so many, so many innocent people, and for what? For IT. Men, Women, even children … an endless sea of death and all of that in the name of an evil that has plagued this world for so long. Oh yes, I know where this thing has been and what it has done, it wasn’t as humble to restrict itself to one continent, Europe, Australia, Africa, even Antarctica before it decided to make our nation its next target for chaos and destruction.

When I was still a cop I gathered a lot of information about this thing in hopes of something leading me to the killer that then wore it. Now with me in that man’s place I realize that it has no logic, no sense of planning or the sort, it just does what it was created to do … bring annihilation.

I’m not sure if any previous wearers saw how it was created but I have, it showed me its birth in my dreams. Just as the earliest articles, that I had gathered, mentioning its patterns claimed, it was created during World War I. In Eastern Europe, somewhere next to Poland a very little country resides. In this little country there is a small harbor town that meets the Baltic Sea. In this little, secluded town lived a puppet maker. This man was also obsessed over dark magic. I’ve seen this man’s house: it was full of books about hell and evil spirits and summoning as well as controlling demons. He believed he could summon creatures from the darkest pits of inferno and use them as he saw fit. As time passed this man spent a lot of time creating a particular item, not a puppet, a mask. He believed only a mask that had to be put over the face could contain sufficient power within it. Well it certainly does. After he had finished making it he used his books to summon something not from this world and he succeeded, he succeeded in summoning an evil that turned out to be far stronger than he could ever control. And not only stronger than he was, it was stronger than anyone that bore it after that. He was the first one to put it over his face, he was the first one to loose his sanity to it and he was the first to start its accursed quest.
--------------------

I found myself yet again standing before a random door. Just as I had expected - nearly two days have passed since my last blood call. Who where these people before whom door I now stood? It was futile to even think, no amount of compassion that I could muster could save them from the fate that had already been laid upon them, with me as the Grim Reaper. I knocked as innocently as it let me. It was always the same, a quiet and encouraging knock … and then …
No one answered. I knocked again. Nothing. Pushing the door a little I noticed it wasn’t locked, what people in their sane minds would leave their door open like that with all the stories about a killer on the loose? That was the sole thought I had the privilege of having before it forced me inside. A pair of junkies. Somehow I felt somewhat at ease, these people had clearly given up on life long before I came. That was the only sympathy I could give myself, perhaps they wouldn’t even feel a thing. I closed the door lightly behind me.

[blackkat]

Hey
Its good to learn about the mask - it is developing a character of its own and displaying how those who come to wear the mask are but hopeless hosts. I want to know more about what its done...lol i like knowing the history of it too. Its good how you jump about in time; reflecting back and forth - makes the plot all the more interesting. Yeah i am enjoying it
(Like i said ill mail you a full response when ive read the whole thing! - so i'm waiting for some more...... (lol)

[blackkat]

Oh yeah i meant to say also that the way the Mask allows john to see all the brutality and malice it has provoked over the years is cool (maybe you could expand on that even with even more gory details!), its like the ship in the movie Event Horizon thats been to Hell and back and allows the crew, which come on board, to see in their own minds the vile ferociousness it experienced there in hell. -Have you seen it - you'll know what i mean if you have

[Dwz]

I have not seen it but I'm adding it to my "to get list" right now

And this be, I think the longest chapter ... more violence Hooray!!! XD

9


“Hey, wait a second. Let me go check on my parents while we’re here, okay?” Rob says turning to Bryan as they both stand near an entrance to an old apartment building. Bryan nods and leans against the wall next to the entrance watching Rob go in.

Just another old and crumbling building amongst the many standing tall and silent, overlapping one another, intersecting in alleyways, offering shelter to those that could not buy their way into the luxury apartments in downtown. These buildings were quarantined from the rest of the city by a river that split the town in two. It was like it was meant to be: the poorest part pushed back into the outskirts while all the greasy pigs lived in their warm, comfortable wombs.

Bryan looked up at the building, the red bricks were so old, most of them were cracked, some missing completely. The first floor apartments were abandoned, no surprise there. It was dangerous living on the first floor, those who lived there had taken in the risks of having a bullet or a brick fly through their window at any given moment during the day or night so those who had some sense moved out. Blank, broken windows stared back at Bryan, he could feel a sense of déjà vu taking over him for a second but it went as soon, “Just another tall sanctuary for the poor,” he thought to himself.
--------------------

Rob ascended the flight of stairs to the apartment. It was on the top floor, five stories up. Empty beer cans, newspapers, paper shopping bags and even syringes lay scattered on each of the little floor rests that separated each floor. No wonder. If the blurred paint on the walls as well as the poor condition of the stair rails didn’t give away how bad of a condition the building was in then the litter sure did.

Approaching the old wooden door that resembled a piece of plywood with a number hanged on it more than an actual door Rob was taken aback by what he saw. The fact that it was slightly open didn’t bother him at all, it was usual for his parents to leave it like that but a stream of crimson making its way towards the stairs was certainly not something he would have expected to see greeting him home.

He stood there for a second while numerous gruesome scenarios played out in his head. It mattered not that his parents didn’t care for him, that didn’t mean they weren’t his parents in the first place. Clutching his fists tightly together Rob took little steps towards the door. The closer he got the more scared he felt as to what he would find. When the door was finally within his reach he froze before it, staring at it and at the trail that came from below it. He looked down over the stair rail, for a second he thought of turning back and getting Bryan to come with him but the irresistible craving to know what was going on eventually won over his mind and he pushed the door lightly open.

His father lay on the ground leaning against the couch in the living room, his throat cut wide open. His left side of the chest bore a knife stuck in it. The blade was stuck so deeply that only the handle was sticking out. Rob gasped but quickly covered his mouth. His sharp thief mind forced him not to panic, he silently creped inside the apartment gently pushing the door close. As he approached his dad’s corpse Rob overlooked the dead body. Taking precautions into his own hands he grabbed the handle that was sticking out of the man’s chest, he pulled on it gently, it didn’t give in, he pulled it harder and felt it pulling out as it cut through flesh and bone.

It was only after he had the bloody blade in his hands that the voices in the next room reached his ears, someone was sobbing there and Rob knew it only meant trouble, he put the blade behind his back under his belt and went onwards into the room the sounds came from. He kneeled before the closed door and looked through the keyhole, he saw his mother on the floor crying and pleading to someone that stood before her, Rob could only see the man’s feet. Enraged as much as frightened by the whole ordeal Rob took out the knife and charged into the room yelling at whoever stood there to let his mother go. Caught by an uncontrollable madness Rob didn’t even find time to notice who the strange man was, he only realized that within seconds he stood there with the same knife he pulled out of his dad’s chest embedded in the man’s hip.

“Where did you come from?” the man said as he threw Rob across the room leaving the blade still in the man’s hip.

Hitting the door back into the living room Rob only stopped at the couch as it absorbed all the momentum that he was giving out from the massive throw. He watched as the man walked out of the other room towards him. It was only then that Rob saw what the man looked like: normal clothing for any man, jeans, white shirt underneath a black leather jacket. But his face was something different: a mask, a mask depicting a clown’s face. The man stopped right before Rob letting him watch as he pulled the blade slowly from his hip.

“Nice try, boy,” the man spoke from behind the mask as he brushed the air with the bloody knife right before Rob’s eyes. He threw the blade behind him, it hit against the window shattering it to pieces and falling to the street below. The man took out another knife from behind his waist and slammed it into Rob’s shoulder pinning him firmly to the couch, he kneeled and turned his masked face side to side before going back into the room that he was in before Rob came in.

Rob tried pulling the knife out but the pain was too great for him to concentrate, he retaliated with shouting and calling the man back to himself in fear that he went for his mother but the man didn’t answer.

An overwhelming sense of failure took over Rob, he couldn’t do anything but watch what the man would do next, he couldn’t fight back nor could he help. His shouting and screaming was all in vain, the man didn’t even react. A sudden familiar voice calling out for some “John” broke Rob’s sobs of misery. Turning as far as the blade let him Rob caught a glimpse of Bryan standing in the doorway with the same bloody knife in his hand.
--------------------

John walked out of the room again and faced Bryan across the living room. Their eyes locked together. John stood patiently playing with another knife in his hand when he suddenly charged at Bryan standing on the other side of the room. John made haste towards Bryan laughing all the way and slammed the blade in Bryan’s chest when he finally was close enough.

“It won’t be as easy this time, John, I’ve changed in ways you can’t imagine,” Bryan said as he grabbed John’s shoulder firmly, he looked John in the eyes and pulled the knife with his other hand while pushing the one he had into John’s stomach.

“You didn’t change, none of us do, none of us can,” John said and tried grabbing for the knife when Bryan pulled it away from his reach and pushed John towards the stair rails. As brittle and as rusted as the rails were they didn’t hold the impact of John being pushed straight into them and they instantly gave way making John topple over and fall five stories down to the ground below. Bryan peeked over to the bottom watching John in a pile of garbage. Bryan threw the blade down and went inside the apartment again to help Rob.

“Help mom, I’ll be okay,” Rob told Bryan as he pulled the knife out of Rob’s shoulder.
“Get some towels,” Bryan ordered him and went into the other room where Rob’s mother lay.

Entering the other room Bryan was taken aback by the woman that was on the floor. She somehow reminded him of someone, he couldn’t even think who. Bryan’s memory has always been like a field plagued by a never ending fog ever since he had accepted the mask, there was no trace of a life he might have had before this madness but this woman brought something back to him. He wanted to inquire if the woman was okay but words escaped his mouth, all he did was gasp like a fish out of water when he noticed her coming to. The woman turned to face Bryan and he noticed her eyes widen in amazement or perhaps fear.

“Bryan?” the woman let out, her eyes were gathering tears by the second.

Then a name suddenly rushed into Bryan’s head. A name he had known all along but couldn’t pull out for the life of him. “Elle,” Bryan said in a cold and blank voice, the name didn’t mean anything to him he just knew it.

“He’s gone,” Rob’s voice broke the silence between Bryan and Elle.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Bryan said turning to Rob. Rob just shrugged his shoulders. Bryan stood up and went to the stairs. He looked down, John was indeed gone. A pile of garbage lay where John’s body was supposed to be.

“Where do you think he went?” Rob inquired walking up to Bryan.
“I know where, the same place I died for the first time,” he replied silently.

Rob looked at Bryan with a puzzled expression on his face. He didn’t say a thing only watched as Bryan went inside, grabbed a knife and was about to run out when he heard Elle call out for him. Rob rushed to his mother’s side shortly, Bryan followed after.

[Dwz]

And now a little ...a lot ... of mush XD


10 – Elle


It’s amazing how fast time flies. Nearly sixteen years had passed, one would think that a person could forget anyone in such a long time but I haven’t, it only took me a mere glance to recognize that man. The man I loved. The man I thought was my knight in silver shining armor on a white horse. I wasn’t always the way I am now. Well, I used to be this exact way when I was young, you see, I never had a family. I grew up in a foster home. Never knew my parents, but then again, I don’t think I ever wanted to. But that same knight on a white horse saved me from such a life and the very same knight doomed me to return to it.

I met Bryan purely by accident. Back then I was barely nineteen, I had no worries in the world and yet I turned to the foulest things … drugs. I was an addict. I was a child. I was lost. He found me in some alleyway, I can remember that much. I will never forget how he stood before me inquiring if I heard or understood him, of course I did but I was too high to realize that. He took me back to his shabby apartment. If you’d ask me to say why he did it I wouldn’t have an answer for you, perhaps he felt pity for me … perhaps he thought he could help me or perhaps he had other plans in mind. Whichever the case I know he never did anything that was inappropriate to me. When I woke up I saw him watching me from behind the little kitchen in his living room. He just sat there drinking his tea, overlooking me, almost as if guarding me.

What he said to me that morning really changed the way I thought and my life for that matter. He turned to me then and explained that he didn’t do anything to me. I inquired why he brought me there in the first place. His reply was that I was too pretty to wash the streets aimlessly. He came up to me then and offered a cup of hot tea, oh god how good that tea tasted, it was like a chunk of heaven in a cup from an angel. That same angel looked at me while I was greedily drinking that bit of heaven only to offer more when I was done.

He let me stay in his apartment after that. I can’t really understand why he did that to this day, surely no one was that good hearted? Well it didn’t really matter. I think I fell for him far sooner than he did. Then again, how couldn’t someone that had fallen as low as me not fall for a savior? A hero. I still giggle at that thought but the feelings that I grew for him never changed.

He was a folklore researcher. Bryan used to explore legends and myths, tales of lore. I was always fascinated by that. He was so dedicated to his work, I should’ve known it would get the best of him but I’m getting ahead of myself.

After the first time he let me stay it all sort of fell into place. I never moved out, not that I had anywhere to move out but that wasn’t why I stayed. He treated me like a queen, me, a freaking junkie, who would have thought? Days turned into months and months, well, you know how it goes. I dropped my old habits for I had a reason to do it for. I got a shitty job in a dinner, it wasn’t the best job but at least I felt like I was doing something with my life … our life.

It was a little strange the first time we slept together. I remember we went out to a little cozy restaurant together, had dinner and while walking home he went out into the field just beyond our house to pick me some wild flowers. It was so cheesy but it was so nice at the same time. He was so gentle, so careful not do anything wrong the first time we stood before one another at the side of his huge bed. He lightly brushed my shoulders moving my clothes to the side, I blushed, badly. I can still feel his soft lips pecking on my neck, his big arms around my waist holding me so tightly in his grasp. It all seemed like heaven. But heaven cannot exist without hell.

I can still clearly recall that particular folklore that caught his attention so much. He had just finished his research on Valkyries, Norse mythology handmaidens of Odin who collected souls of the slain in battlefields. He was so proud of gathering so much information on them that he immediately went on his next project: folklore about a mask of evil. At first I laughed at the thought but he kept on convincing me that it was real, that such a mask truly existed. I used to watch him look up information in various books. They seemed like his usual sources at first: books depicting myths of different regions and cultures. But it soon grew into something completely different.

I’m not sure what it was but something about that particular myth captivated, entangled, imprisoned him completely, he spent nights upon nights researching and digging up information about that mask rather than spending time with me. I sometimes glanced over what he was looking for and got amazed at the gruesomeness of what he read. He had dug up articles of mass murderer outbursts in Europe during World War I and onwards. It seemed as if that masked traveled from country to country. He told me he needed to see it with his own eyes. I couldn’t stop him. It was futile to even try. Bryan had his head over it fully and completely.

So he left to conquer his quest. He left for Europe. It was really fun getting letters from different countries with those little postcards, I was happy for him. I couldn’t even reply to him, he never stayed in one place for long since he kept on following the mask’s path. Oh and how I wanted to write to him too, for you see, I found out I was pregnant soon after he left. I was carrying his baby, our baby. The joy was overwhelming but the agony of not being able to share the news with him was killing me.

After nearly six months of him being away his letters stopped. I was worried but I couldn’t really do anything. I gave birth to Robert and Bryan was still missing, I raised his son until he was three when I finally gave up any hope on Bryan ever coming back to me. I tried holding back my habits and raising my child but old habits die hard.

I raised Rob up to about six years old before I completely broke down and started taking dozes again. I met some guy that was an addict as well. My life had been crushed and thrown away once again and I was the one to blame for it.

But now, after such a long time I see him standing right before me as if he had never left. But something was wrong with his look. Bryan’s blue pretty eyes were so blank, as if he didn’t know who I was. Bryan just stood there after everything I told him staring at me as if he had no memory of our past life. He had his pretty face but the man I loved inside seemed to be gone, it only took me a glance to realize that. He had really changed in ways I could not comprehend. It was like he had lost his soul. Did his quest for that accursed mask destroy him completely? I didn’t know but I wanted him to back, I wanted him to tell me everything, I wanted him to stay but it seemed that he had something to take care of first as I watched him run down the stairs after that masked man. Rob ran out after Bryan, leaving me behind sobbing into my hands in both joy and sadness, I couldn’t tell one from the other right at that moment.