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đđđđđđđ đčđ đđ (Lead me to the Ark series)
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Tobias Erin Rogers yumeship
â©ïœĄ:âą.âââââ â â âââââ.âą:ïœĄâ©
CONTAINS HEAVY TOPICS AND MAY TRIGGER A SENSITIVE PUBLIC, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED
â Summary : The Pyromaniac casting a golden gaze upon the world, danger and chaos incarnate haunts your life like embers after a ravaging fire.
â Warnings : Mental illness, murder, violence, descent into hell, substance abuse, suicidal ideation, Author is a bitch with Yume, Author Regrets Nothing
â Author's note : It has a 50/50 chance to be AWFUL. It's been a while since I wrote in English, so sorry if it sucks lmao
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The ticking clock stirred you awake. You looked over the clock, your vision blurry with the excess of caffeine in your organism and sleep deprivation. With a bit of effort, you managed to read the numbers. Twenty-one and thirty oâclock. Your colleagues left a while ago, you, the secretary and your chief were the only ones remaining there. While some were finishing their work of the day, hastily achieving the few remaining tasks, you were getting obsessed. You just had fallen asleep, but the mere seconds your nerves lit again with a familiar urgency induced by anxiety and the too many coffees you drank today, you returned to your work. Typing text, circling elements on files, collecting and crossing information⊠Under the dim light of your desk lamp, you seemed unstoppable.
You didnât hear your office door opening, but you certainly heard your boss calling for you.
âYou should already be home.â
Sergeant Matthew Brown was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a severe expression on his face. He contemplated the pile of unorganized documents and your computer with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. He approached and saved your work, before closing the application and forcefully shutting your computer down.
You didnât do anything. After all, if you tried, he could take you away from the investigation, hell maybe even relocating you to another work position. Knowing him it would be the administration or the archives, anything to keep you calm and prevent your nerves from snapping. As if you needed that coddling.
âIâm fine, sir.â you answered, battling against yourself not to sigh of frustration. âI just wanted to correct some mistakes and complete my observations.
â My ass you would.â he shot back with a snort. âCanât fool me, kid. You would let yourself die of exhaustion on this very desk if Iâd let you. Come on, let me drive you home.â
He took your jacket from the hanger and put it on your shoulders, tapping your back to encourage you to get up. You obeyed with a heavy sigh and ran a hand down your face. Your gaze fell on the files you studied for the past hours. Missing people flyers over the past ten years, mostly teenagers. Photographs of gruesome crime scenes, a few reports from forensic pathologists. You looked at every detail, every victimâs profile, their families, cause of death and even lives. Nothing was linking them together, and it was making you insane.
The firm hand of your boss squeezed your shoulder, snapping you out of your obsessions. Keeping an arm around your shoulder, he pushed you towards the exit.
âI know you want to do good, kid, but you canât continue like this. Youâll burn out on this case before a match drowned in gasoline.
â If Iâm not doing it, no one will. This fucking investigation has been going on for months, sir. Amanda Keller is missing since December of last year, and weâre in March for fuckâs sake ! We donât even have a body to return to the family. Which image does it give of us ?!â
Your voice had risen without you realizing, mixed with pain, anger and utter exhaustion. Matthew stopped in his tracks, his gaze expressing nothing but comprehension and compassion.
âWelcome to the job.â he murmured with sadness. âIt gnaws at me knowing that the poor girl canât rest where she belongs. Weâll find her, but destroying yourself is not a solution.â
You walked towards his car, and sat on the passengerâs seat. Matthew went behind the wheel and turned the engine on. The road was lived in complete silence, you simply contemplated the cityâs night lights all long. That city that you both loved and hated. That city you wanted to burn to the ground, but also protect from the darkness crawling within.
St-Loret, a city as old as Salem was, so much you and your colleagues called it âSalemâs lost twinâ. A city erased from maps, that could only be found thanks to the old signs along roads, the one with peeling paint and rusty bars. It was not like it was lost in the middle of nowhere though, since with just one hour of road anyone could go to New Orleans. An hour right to the north-west, by taking a road that has not been renovated in eons.
That cursed city you lost yourself in after graduation. You couldnât even remember why.
Your bossâs car stopped in front of your building. You looked up to your apartment, on the seventh floor, and mumbled a âthanksâ before going out and closing the door with a sharp thud. The policeman observed you until you entered the building and closed the door behind you. Once he was sure you were safe, he drove to his own house.
Your apartment was small but comfortable, a studio you rented alone. Never had any issues, and it was enough just for you. You locked your door and threw your jacket on a chair, and let yourself fall on the couch with a grunt. Hunger did not even manifest even if it was late. You took your pajamas left hung on the back of that same exact chair you threw your coat on and changed yourself. The fragrance of your washer hit your nose, you buried it in the fabric and sniffed it deeply. That delicate odor always brought comfort. It smelled like home. Now in your grey sweatpants and large purple shirt, you were feeling way more comfortable. You let yourself slump into your couch-bed and grabbed the remote on the table nearby. You turned on some brainless program you picked out without looking, just enough to fill the background silence. Nuzzling into the pillows with the remote against your chest, you let out a heavy yawn.
Your eyes dropped. Head felt fuzzy⊠And Morpheus welcomed you with open arms.
In the blissful peace you had found, you didnât hear the sharp clicks coming from your door. Neither the half-muffled curse.
âS-shit f-fucking l-lock ! A-and M-masky told me i-it would be easy- J-just one axe s-swing w-would have been m-more efficient-â
A man was cursing while trying to lockpick the door. He was wearing a dirty grey hoodie with lighter stripes on the sleeves and barely visible patterns, a green cargo pants and brown boots ruined by years in harsh environments. His dark brown eyes were expressing pure frustration behind his orange goggles. A few strands of brown messy hair were escaping from the hood hiding most of his traits. Toby replaced his mask with a growl, before brutally yanking it off to wipe the droplets of water caused by his breath. God dammit did he hated those infiltration missions. Boring as hell with not even a little spill of blood or an ignited match. Clac. Another lockpick broken into his hand. He threw it in the corridor with half-mouthed curses that even Zalgo did not want to hear. Before he would decide to burn that whole place down, target and civilians included, he took a bummer phone out of his pocket and texted his colleague and mentor.
[Masky that door wonât open ! Tried everything.]
The answer came just a few seconds later.
[Toby, itâs not complicated to lockpick a DOOR. Youâre just putting too much strength on it ! We trained on it, listen to the lockâs sounds and BE PATIENT. Donât fuck this up.]
The proxy let out an angry huff and put the tools in his pocket. He grabbed his hatchet firmly and swore with barely restrained anger.
âY-you w-want fucking d-discretion, I-iâll give you s-some ! G-gonna de-destroy t-that damn door !â
Toby loaded his weapon above his shoulder and gave a powerful swing, his axe hit the lock with a heavy clung and finished its way digging into the ground. One front kick later and the door was opened, he entered the living room and froze at the sight of the couch. A shape vaguely human, buried underneath a heavy blanket. Silence stretched for an eternity, blood was pumping in the proxyâs ears, he listened closely. No noise, not even a door opening or the creaking of wood. Toby stepped carefully in the living room and closed the door behind him. He approached with his hatchet steady in hand, and peeked just above. He saw the messy hair of his target coming out of the blanket, the chest rising and falling at a steady pace. How the hell they didnât hear ? He could excuse the neighbours â it was particularly late and the city was particularly shady anyway â but how they didnât hear ?
On the small table next to the couch, a half empty bottle of pills. Toby sneaked close enough to read the label. Antidepressants. He didnât recognize this kind despite the times he was sent scavenging medication in the nearby pharmacies, but he knew some could seriously knock people down. Lucky. He crawled close to his target and let out a soft breath, his hand hovering above the blanket for a second, before hesitantly pulling it down, just enough to reveal your face. The distant lights of the city were casting on your features a soft but cold glow, as the very touch of Death caressed your delicate face. He didnât expect you to be this young. When he was asked to take down an annoying investigator, he expected a middle-aged man who had fierceness printed on his every feature. Not⊠This. You looked so fragile, almost like Sleeping Beauty whom the enchantment would not have been broken for a thousand years instead of a century.
He flexed his fingers around his axe handle, as if hesitating.
Should he really end your life, right there ? Right now ? The Observer had been clear that you needed to be taken care of one way or another⊠But slashing your head in half did not appear as the brightest idea. Worse of all, he couldnât figure out why.
As the gears were turning in his head, the void left by his thoughts filled with a static too familiar to be ignored. The proxy felt something warm on his upper lip, it tasted coppery at the tip of his tongue. Toby lowered his mask and touched his nose, warm blood glimmering on his fingers. He wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve and cursed under his breath.
âF-fuck, o-of c-course i-it h-had t-to h-happen n-now⊠E-enjoying t-the show, as-asshole ?â
The static grew louder in his head, everything felt fuzzier. Light-headed, Toby had to grip the armrest of the couch next to your head to not fall on your floor. By God knows which obscure way you still did not wake up nor move, your chest rising and falling in deep and silent breaths. The static intensified once more, like a warning.
If he had to kill you, why did the static fill his head so much ?
He could barely think as the noise blurred his mind. His fingers loosened around his hatchet, the static quieted down a little bit but remained present in the background. He was watching them. Toby moved his hands away from his hatchets, the static continuing to quiet down. He approached your face this time.
You were feeling everything. Since your door broke you were wide awake, but your body was unable to move because of the amount of unhealthy exhaustion you accumulated. Trapped in a body that felt numb and refused to answer to your every move, while you were very much conscious of your environment. Your guts continuously twisted in anxiety. Was it your pitiful end ?
You heard the masculine voice. You heard him curse, breathe near you, and yet it was still impossible for you to move. Even your eyes were sealed shut. Your blanket was dragged down to your chest. Despite not being able to see, you felt his eyes on you. Curious eyes observing you up and down, searching for something you couldnât decipher. ThenâŠ
A faint twitch of your fingers. Right hand, hidden just under the blankets beside your hip. You forced your fingers to twitch again, and slowly you regained control over your hand, your body waking up from its slumber. Slowly your hand hovered above your gun holster, just below your shirt. You never realized that what made you feel safe would ever be of use. Your colleagues called you paranoid for bringing your firearm everywhere you go. You would prove them wrong⊠you would make them feel like idiots for judging you.
You opened your gun holster, and hit the intruder with the barrel. You jumped on your feet, fear coursing in your veins like a drug. Your eyes were now wide open and landed on the man in front of you. His temple was bloody, he shook his head and touched his injury, feeling the blood dripping on his fingers. The surprise was transparent on his face.
Your voice rose, shaky as you pointed him with your gun :
âT-the fuck are y-you ?! Y-you came to k-kill me, d-didnât you ?â
He didnât answer but raised his hands next to his head, still keeping his hatchet. He tried to come closer but you took off the safety and aimed at his head. Weird static filled your head, nausea invaded your mouth. You gagged under the force of the heave.
Fucking idiot, donât stand there ! Do something, anything !
A deafening bang echoed in your apartment. Painful whistle filled your ears. The intruder tackled you to the ground, you fired another shot, hearing a rough grunt from your assaillant. In the obscurity you saw his shadow flipping his weapon in hand and hit you with the handle. Your head crashed into the ground, and all went dark.
Toby was breathing heavily above your now limp body. He checked your pulse, and thankfully you were still alive. The static died.
âT-thatâs i-it I-iâm f-fucking done⊠F-fuck y-you m-mate⊠S-screw M-masky, s-screw t-that p-prick of O-observer⊠C-canât d-do a-anything right w-with th-these g-guysâŠâ
The proxy picked you up gently and laid you down on the couch, and turned you around in a huff. Of course it had to be you. How could he not understand it sooner ? Toby carefully pulled your top up to your neck, and grimaced as he saw a scar between your shoulder blades. Here, graved like an ominous threat, a circle with an X. His own mark, down his back, felt itchy. He scratched it, nails digging into his skin. He only noticed when he looked at his bloodied fingernails. He took his phone from his pocket and took a photo of your mark. Toby scrubbed the blood off on his jacket and pulled your top back in place. The proxy flipped you on your back, put a pillow under your head and covered your body with the blanket. His gaze became blank a second, he stepped away and nervously typed a message to Masky before sending the photo.
[Care to explain this, dipshit ?
â Wtf. Toby, where are you at ? You were asked to break in THE COPâS HOUSE, NOT ONE OF OUR HIDEOUTS !
â They are the cop. Knocked them out pretty badly.
â Leave before you get caught. Iâm waiting for you outside.]
The proxy turned off his phone and cursed under his breath before he left your apartment, leaving your door wide open. He climbed down the stairs without looking behind, and left through the same back door he came from. A bit further away was parked a dark grey car with black tainted windows, the driver window rolled down to reveal Tim with a lit cigarette in mouth. His brown hair was messy, the white mask set to the side of his face. He looked up and relief crossed his eyes half a second, before tiredness settled in.
âYou took your time, mouse.â he called him out, taking a drag out of his cigarette before blowing the smoke. âBeen waiting there for a while.
- Oh f-fuck off, d-donât a-act l-like y-you c-care now. I-i f-f-fucked up t-the m-mission a-and I-iâm g-going t-to get m-m-my a-ass ki-kicked for th-this. K-keep y-your f-false w-words f-for y-yourself.â
Toby sat on the passenger seat and slammed the door shut before retreating into silence. Tim finished his cigarette and threw it out of the window. He reached a hand towards the glove box, and gave a strawberry-flavored cookie.
âI bought that. Take it.â
Ticci Toby stared at the sweet, completely puzzled, but ended up eating it. Tim turned the wheel, and they left the neighbourhood. The two proxies stayed silent for a moment, and as they were driving in the city plunged in darkness, Tim was the first to break the silence.
âYou did nothing wrong. You couldnât know the target was a proxy. Did you find any information ?â
Without a word, Toby took out of his pocket your ID card. Driving with one hand, Tim took the card and observed it closely. He narrowed his eyes, hummed in deep thinking before putting the ID away in the glove box. He positioned the rearview mirror to have an eye on the road behind, looking for any signs of life or police. They were never too cautious.
âWeâll deal with this later.â he declared with a stern authority that left no space for negotiation. âFirst, your injuries. Iâll deal with the boss. And Observer. As for you, youâre going to sleep and not do anything else until new order, alright ?â
Toby did not say a word until Tim parked next to a hotel. He stayed silent when the proxy booked a room, and simply let himself fall into the bed. But before he could let sleep drift him away, Tim grabbed his collar and forced him to sit down.
âI ainât finished with you.
â Yep I know you hate me, blah blah blah. Stay still.â
Toby lost himself in thoughts as Tim disinfected the wound on his temple, and gently bandaged it. Tim noticed how blurred Toby's eyes were, a heavy mist was cutting his consciousness from the world. He shut down again. His mouth and mind felt numb, his brain had turned into mush under the force of events. The older proxy decided to give him space, understanding that the failed mission had taken a bigger toll on Toby than he expected. It was rare, as the brunette was most of the time quite tough.
âToby.â he called him. âIf you need to talk Iâm there.â
No answer, but the silence between them was full of meanings. The proxyâs strength only came back late in the night. He woke up in the middle of the night, the bedroom was plunged in darkness. Tim was deeply asleep by his side, laying on his stomach. His ears were ringing with static. He sat on the bed, and reached for his bummer phone on the nightstand.
He had received a single message, from an unknown number.
[Will take care of it. Youâll find them at St-Loret PS.]
The sender then shared the address of the police station. No more words, no more contact. Just a simple command. The static died, and silent returned. Toby turned off his phone and went back to sleep. The next morning he woke up early. Tim was still by his side, snoring loudly with the nose buried into the pillows.
âS-sorryâŠâ apologized the proxy in a murmur before crawling out of the bed, and putting on his usual attire. He placed the goggles right on his face, put his mask on and hid his face with the hood of his hoodie.
He definitely looked suspicious with his two hatchets attached to his sides, his sweater hiding his features and his Hannibal Lecter vibes. All appearance be damned. The proxy opened barely the window, just enough to slide through it, and landed with a roll. About 4 miles later, he saw the grim silhouette of the grim station drawn at the horizon. The sun was peeking through grey clouds, casting a cold glow on the awakening city. Toby made one with the shadows, nervosity making his neck twitch every now and then.
âF-f-fuck, wh-what am I e-even doingâŠâ he cursed under his breath. âI-iâm t-turning cr-crazyâŠâ
The brunette pressed himself against the wall of the police station to not be seen from the windows. He kneeled and started crawling through bushes and plants, lending an ear for close noises that would mean danger. Fortunately, as it was still quite early in the morning, streets were empty of all life at this hour. As he crawled near the wall, he picked up vocal outbursts. Toby froze, fearing that he mightâve been caught already. He listened intently, staying frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE REMOVING ME FROM THE CASE ?! NO WAY ! IT WAS JUST AN INTRUSION ! I'M STILL ALIVE AS FAR AS I KNOW !"
Their voice rang familiarly to his ears. A mixture of affection and guilt twisted in his gut, and he lended a close ear to listen to the rest of the conversation. A male voice answered, sounding much older.
âKid, my decision is final. Did you smash your head ? Your door is destroyed, you were found unconscious, itâs a miracle you didnât perish.
â You donât even have any proof that my aggressor and Amandaâs case are related ! Youâre just taking that stupid incident as the perfect excuse to rule me out !â
Silence stretched heavily, even Toby held his breath. Then the male voice, which he assumed was their superior, cut the conversation with a sharp tone :
âThis is my last warning. You are stepping away from the case, or Iâll be forced to use more drastic measures. I wonât accept that you put your life in danger anymore. Send me all the files related to the case before noon.â
The proxy only exhaled when he heard the door closing shut. He stood up just slightly to peek through the window. Here you were, sat on your desk, the head within your hands. The Observer was right on one thing, you were really dedicated to this affair. Was this your civil identity, and if yes how did you hide it so well that even the proxy team got mistaken and tried to eliminate you ? You slammed your fist on the desk and let out a half-muffled curse.
Tears fell down your face, your muscles trembling as you gripped your desk until your knuckles turned white. Your breathing accelerated abruptly as you lost your breath, white dots were dancing in front of your eyes. You were on the verge of a panic attack, and Toby was the silent witness.
âI canât⊠I canât do it⊠They just keep throwing obstacles down my way ! Fucking hellâŠÂ hate this, I hate them !â Tears continued to stream down your face and your body was shivering, smothered sobs escaped your mouth. You slammed your hands on the desk to conceal the anger that was burning through you, making Toby jump.
He leaned a bit closer to the window to observe your face. He was failing to realize yet that he was seeing your face after so much time. Your features seemed so soft despite sadness and upsetness overwhelming you.
Your other you was always so emotionless and detached, it was so disturbing to see you getting this emotional. He couldnât pick which version he preferred. But he couldnât let you get destroyed by your own feelings either. He waited outside until you left your office, he heard some muffled words about coffee he didnât care to listen further to. The moment the door closed, the proxy forced the window open and jumped through it. He examined your desk, which was very messy. There were papers scattered everywhere, mainly messy notes and documents about your investigation. It was a true treasure right there, Toby took his phone from his pocket and quickly took a photo of every document he could lay his hand on.
His head shot up when he heard footsteps, and he bolted under the desk. He brought his knees against his chest. You entered your office, gripping firmly your coffee cup despite your shivering hand. You sat at your desk and sighed deeply.
âFuck itâŠâ you murmured. âI canât waste all my work⊠Not like thatâŠâ
Over the next minutes you sent the files and notes your boss requested, drowning yourself in your coffee. Still under your desk, Toby listened to you curse your bosses and type on your keyboard. What a shitty idea he had. As he observed the desk to try to find a solution to his situation, he found a note taped on the wood.
They are me. Show them proof, drive them away.
My face is hidden beyond knowledge.
Toby took the note between the shivering hands. He didnât have time for your mind games, and yet it was the second message he had of you in several weeks. It was clear they had to take care of your normal half, but how could he manage it ?
He had time to think about it, since you did not leave your office because some of your worried colleagues forced you to go take lunch with them. Toby crawled from under the desk, his bummer phone vibrated against his thigh. Tim was calling, obviously, and when Toby answered the older proxy was yelling :
âWHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU ?! TOBY ! WHERE DID YOU WANDER OFF THIS TIME ?
â C-c-calm d-down d-d-dipshit. I-i just c-catch u-u-up w-with my m-mis-mistakes. M-morphoâs b-been t-talking t-t-to me.
â Did you lose your damn mind ?!â Tim answered at a lower volume, but the edge of his voice was still sharp and angry. âMorpho ? Speaking ? Communicating ? Did you fall on your face ? And who says that cop IS Morpho ? The Operator has dozens of proxies throughout the country, and most of them donât even know they are serving him !
â O-oh g-go s-screw yourself. I-i j-just know it, t-thatâs all. N-now i-if you donât t-trust me, j-just d-drive h-home.â
The young proxy did not leave time for Tim to answer before he hung up. He searched once again the office, and as he looked around he saw a little library in a corner. He took a peek at the note again. A face beyond knowledge. The young man pushed the library aside, groaning in effort. Behind the furniture was a dark hole. Toby plunged his hand in it and felt a velvety matter. He delicately grabbed it and examined it under the light. In his hand was resting a velvet black mask, very soft and light. It had two large holes for the eyes. The inner surface of the mask was a light brown, where the mouth was supposed to be was a little button.
It was Morphoâs mask, and the final proof he needed to have about your true identity. You were the only proxy and even Creepypasta wearing a Moretta mask. Seeing the button, he understood better why you never talked. You simply couldnât, as you needed to bite that thing off to keep the mask in place. He folded the mask and was about to put it in his pocket. A sudden click attracted his attention. You were behind him, gun in hand with all your muscles shivering.
âY-you ! H-hands in the air, y-youâre under civil arrest !
â O-oh sh-shit. F-f-forgot a-about y-you coming b-back. L-look I-i donât s-search f-for trouble.â
Toby raised his hands in the air, one closed since he was holding the mask. You looked at his closed hand and threatened him with your loaded gun. âOpen your hand ! Now !â Slowly, the proxy opened his hand to reveal the fabric mask. Your face twisted in confusion, your weapon lowering just for a moment. Toby bolted towards you at that moment, you shot. Blood poured from his chest, but he tackled you to the ground. You fought tooth and nails, screaming and hitting him with the gun. The proxy grabbed your throat and rode you, using his body weight to keep you down. He unfolded the mask and forced it on your face.
âC-c-come o-on, b-bite t-the button-â he cursed.
Your struggle abruptly stopped. Hurried footsteps approached, and you pushed Toby off with a renewed force. One of your colleagues opened the door, you grabbed your firearm and shot him in the head. The policeman fell like a ragdoll, you slowly stood up. Toby felt his breath rarify.
âM-morpho⊠?â he asked in a strained voice.
You slowly stood up, and looked at him. The Moretta Mask stayed on, perfectly. Tobyâs face unwinded in relief. You stretched out your hand, and helped him get up⊠Before slapping the back of his head.
âHey ! What was that for ?â
You grabbed him by the collar and left together by the same window Toby entered. He barely had time to hear shouting before silence engulfed them both. You were dragging the proxy behind you, the heavy weight of unspoken lies settling between you two. After a few minutes, he broke the silence, stuttering even more than usual :
âM-m-m-morpho⊠D-d-did I-i d-d-do good ? I-i d-did m-m-my b-be-best, I-i d-d-did ev-every-everyt-thinh y-you asked me t-to ! I-i d-didnât m-mess th-things, d-did I ?â
He stopped breathing for a second, the heavy weight of anxiety blocking his airways. You stopped right on your tracks, slowly turned your head. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, well at least as best as you could despite the Moretta Mask. You grabbed the proxyâs sleeve and dragged him behind, shooting glances around you every now and then. Toby looked down at his sleeve and hurried the pace to be just beside you. You slowed down barely. The proxy eyed you for a second, his hand moved and grasped your own, intertwining your fingers with his, giving a little squeeze.
âD-did I-i d-do good ?â he asked in a hushed voice.
He tugged on your sleeve, harder, and repeated his question. You sighed through your nose out of exasperation, and covered his mouth with your hand to shut him up. You shook your head slowly to refuse any word coming out of his throat. You both needed to find a hideout before drowning in the tar of your problems. At one point you reached your apartment, climbed the stairs four by four. You unlocked the door, greatly damaged with the swing of the axe. Toby cleared his throat nervously and stuttered while looking away :
âY-yeah, s-sorry f-for that⊠I-if I-i k-knew s-sooner about y-you, I-...â
You pushed him inside and closed the door, locking it behind. Toby stumbled and observed you. At this instant he would have begged higher powers for you to talk, to stop being this misty and finally express yourself⊠But if you took off your mask, Morpho would disappear, and your other half would appear again. He observed you walking to the kitchen, followed you and leaned against the counter.
âYouâre doinâ breakfast ?â he joked, trying to alleviate the atmosphere.
You froze a second in your movements, your pupils chasing his through the mask. They hardened, and with a renewed energy you grabbed kitchen utensils. Soon the smell of protein filled the air, tickling his nostrils pleasantly.
âY-youre c-cooking f-for me ? Ho-how c-cute⊠J-jokes as-aside, Iâm starving.â
You served him a plate of brewed eggs and bacon with a cup of chocolate, you planted the knife you used in the counter, eyes cold with severity. Toby chuckled and seized the fork, taking a mouthful of food. Your grip on the knife loosened and you nodded, satisfied.
Toby caught you off guard when he touched your face. You plunged your eyes in his. Brown irises were glowing in a golden hue under the morning light, the soft rays of the sun caressing his face. A piece of food was stuck on his cheek. God was he eating like a pig. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, you mirrored his movements by cupping the scarred side of his face. He unconsciously leaned into your touch, eyes half-lidded. He looked at you, entranced and charmed. Your thumb hovered near the massive gash tearing his cheek in half, leached into the small opening along his teeth. As they grazed your skin, Toby slurred, words and sounds meddling in each other :
âHey, what kar ou doin ?â
You forced his head to tilt to the side, leaning over the counter. Your eyes narrowed an instant searching for something he couldnât identify. The proxy felt his face heat up with such proximity, and his mouth went dry. He let out a nervous laugh :
âW-wow dude, you missed m-me t-that much ? I-i y-you w-wanted a h-hug you c-couldâve a-asked for i-it !â
After a few seconds you took off the piece of food from his cheek and pulled back, leaving the poor boy totally lost in your whims. He looked around as he ate breakfast, observing your apartment. It was strange to see you with a home, and one that didnât feel like one on top of that. From the ceiling to the floor, everything was covered with that cape of dullness, despite the colors and the well-furnished environment, everything felt so⊠Lifeless. There was no objects scattered everywhere, no personalized decoration straight from the holy walls of bad taste. Just vacant space where life should be.
âMorpho ?â he called you.
When his eyes turned towards yours, he noticed you didnât stop looking at him. Not even a second. You handed him a notebook, the first page blackened with an improvised letter. How did you even write that fast ?
I apologize for the unforeseen event. We need to investigate why my other one had been targeted. Before you say anything, they and I are the same person. Theyâre the same person you know, theyâre me and Iâm them. The only difference is memories. They donât remember once I take the mask off, but I do when I put the mask back on.
You tapped the Moretta mask to emphasize your words. Toby tilted his head to the side and hummed out loud. He thought about the implications of such words. His tics quieted, he reached for your hand and waited for you to open your palm to take it. He spoke seriously, squeezing your hand in support :
âDo you mean you have like⊠Two personalities ?â
On the other hand, you wrote yes in the notebook. Toby hummed louder, resting his head within his hand. He absentmindlessly caressed the back of your hand as you were developing your thoughts on paper. You turned the notebook backwards to let him read.
Somehow, yes. But contrary to other proxies, I am not a âfull-fleshed individualâ. When the Operator made us his servant, our consciousness splited in half to protect ourselves. I am the true one, the police officer is the diminished one. They donât remember, and donât know how to do things. It is a mask that became so convincing that even we forgot we were wearing it.
Tobyâs brows furrowed with concern. In one shared glance, he understood all of your shady tactics. From what he's seen, and read, your condition makes you a prisoner of your own body, basically unable to be awake if you don't have your mask on.
âL-l-let me h-help you.â he declared firmly, expecting nothing else than crystal-clear agreement. âI f-failed the m-mission already, a-and I f-felt the Op-operator i-in my head. Wouldnât surprise m-me i-if Heâs a-already investigating t-the re-reason of t-the contract o-on your head. I-i mean- I-it wasnât supposed to happen.â
He squeezed your hand in determination, and brought it to his lips, planting a small kiss on the knuckles. He had to protect you, from the cops, from the other proxies, from the Operator himself if he had to. You didnât miss that fire burning in his gaze, you grip on his hand enhanced to be bone-breaking, and snap him out of whatever murderous trance he was falling in. Your free hand tilted his face, forcing him to look at you. You pulled your hands away from him, and signed. You rose your arms to your forehead, pinched your fingers and opened your hands as your arms were drifting to the left, coming down to rest on the countertop. A single word he heard too many times, but with a different tone as he was coming from you.
A single order, communicated in the language of those unable to speak. You rarely used ASL to communicate, unless it was a matter of utter importance. Few Creepypastas knew how to use it anyway, and he only knew the words you were using the most.
You repeated the sign with stiffer movements. No time for feelings or the smallest mistake.
And to his greatest displeasure you disappeared again several times later, leaving your unconscious body on your couch. He took the mask with him, holding your hopes and burdens. You didn't wake up until late in the night, with several missed calls from your boss.
You failed. Failed failed failed failed ! That criminal was toying with you, he even had the audacity to abandon you in your own house ! Failure. You were nothing but a failure, a joke of an inspector unable to catch a single criminal.
You were in front of your mirror, the dark traces left by tears staining your face. Weird, they were never this dark. Are tears supposed to be dark ? Under the dim lightbulb hanging above your head, your own reflection felt meaningless. Three holes barely distinguishable from one another. Were your eyes up or down ? Soon your face disappeared, replaced by that fleshy pea soup. You touched your face, not recognizing it anymore. Despite everything, only the dull wave of apathy was smothering you at this very instant.
Just raw and unfiltered apathy. You were disappearing, just like everything you fought for. Did it matter to get up in the morning, just to be carried everywhere like a doll ? Your current situation with that boy was not very different from what you were living with for all those years. Just⊠Running to crime scenes to other crime scenes. Nothing else was awaiting you but disgust and disappointment.Â
Even when you solved an affair there was that bitter taste in your mouth.
Even when you tried to change things your contribution was ridiculous.
Even when you tried, nothing mattered.
A sharp pain brought you back to reality, but your mind was only able to pick up shards. The broken glass. Blood in the sink. Your bloody hand radiating in pain. Every move was pain. Pain and numbness of your mind.
Hands grabbed you from behind and choked you to sleep. You only saw the orange goggles of your torturer before falling unconscious.
Days went by without your memory being able to catch anything of it, only fuzzy visions you barely grasped as reality. Once you were working at your desk. Another brushing your teeth in the morning. Flashes always interrupted your consciousness from pondering about recent events.
You became less than human. Just a barely functioning machine. Only your pills helped you count the days that went by. One two three, one two three⊠Refill every ten days, four rows of your tablet are already empty⊠Or did you consume too much ? Not enough ? It appeared surreal that you live ninety-six hours without any memory.
And that static, that constant static ringing in your ears ! Youâd give everything to make it stop even for just one second. Make it stop. For Godâs sake, make it stop !
A knock jolted you out of your fear-fuelled delirium. A mailman entered your office with a package in hand, looking all lost and a little shaken. He tilted his cap to greet you, put the box on your desk and left in a hurry. You opened the package, inside there was a folded paper and a bottle of pills. They were a different kind than yours, you didnât know what kind it was. The label had been torn off, replaced by a paper with âEAT ME :Dâ written on it. You unfolded the other paper, and read a letter.
Oh my god that letter. You wanted to shred it, burn it and shove it down your nearest colleagueâs throat. As you were putting on your jacket, your boss entered the office, alarmed as one of your colleagues certainly warned him about the mysterious package. He froze at your sight.
âKid, put that bottle down. What are you doing ?
â Getting the fuck out of here. I need to find that fucker and gauge his eyes out of his sockets, I swear to G-
â Kid, STOP.â he interrupted you, slamming both hands on the table. His gaze fell on the letter, then stared back at you. Long gone were the worried eyes of an old friend. They were now cold, implacable, his voice rose as cold as steel. âYour behaviour has been w ay to erratic lately. I dismissed you from your functions. Come with me, we have a serious talk to have.
â No ! NO, NO NO ! Iâm at THIS to solve that affair ! You cannot prevent me from doing something, ANYTHING useful ! You just canât ! STAY RIGHT THERE, YOU CANNOT PREVENT ME TO BRING JUSTICE ONTO THIS WORLD ! NOT AGAIN !â
You drew your gun in front of his face. The safety was never on, and somehow he knew it, after all it was the only thing keeping your sanity away from the gnawing fear rotting your brain from the inside out. He rose his head, eyes alert, speaking in a much calmer voice :
âKid⊠Put that weapon back. Youâre out of your mind. Calm down. Please. We all care about you.
â LIAR !â you screamed. The static rang so loudly in your ears it hurt. Something tasting coppery drooled along your face and landed on your upper lip, the only moment you noticed. Your nose was bleeding. âYou never did ANYTHING when that guy broke into MY HOUSE, never did anything to help me bring a bit of comfort to those grieving families ! Youâre afraid, and youâre a damn coward ! I wonât follow your steps, no no no no, Iâm going to follow that man and have ANSWERS ! If no one does anything, I WILL !â
You snatched the pill bottle, put it in your pocket and opened the window. Through the small opening, you heard sirens wailing. The bitter feeling of betrayal filled your chest as you observed the blue and red lights awaiting you.
âIâm only doing this for your own good.â Matthew said, trying to come a little closer to you. âYou did nothing reprehensible but youâre a danger to yourself. Let us help, let me carry the rest.
â DID YOU CALL THE 5150 ON ME ? ME ?! IâM NOT INSANE ! YOU ARE ! DAMMIT MATTHEW, OPEN YOUR EYES ! THAT TOBY IS TOYING WITH US ! WE NEED TO DO OUR.DAMN.JOB ! WEâRE COPS, NOT BARISTAS !
â IT IS NOT YOUR ROLE !â he snapped. âYOU DIDNâT FOLLOW ORDERS ALL THIS TIME AND YOUâRE ACTIVELY WORKING ON A CASE YOU WERE PUT OUT OFF ! Youâre losing your mind, look at yourself ! You barely sleep, eat and just- wander around feeding off your obsessions ! I HAD to act ! I refuse to lose another of my officers ! It is JUST a cold case ! Let it go.
You lost me a while ago.â your breath fell in a whisper, and you let yourself fall off the window.
Shouts followed you, but you ran, and shot when the sirens felt too loud. You ran so quickly your lungs were burning. In your escape, you tripped and fell into a canal below, the icy waters bringing you back to reality. You swam to the nearest shore, and hid under a bridge from the rest of the day. The sirensâs dreadful chant disappeared into the horizon after a few hours.
You only had that bottle of pills and the drenched letter left. The letters were barely readable, and for hours without an end you looked at those two objects under all angles, searching for a hidden meaning, for anything that might guide you.
The label, of course the label ! Eat me, eat me⊠Did it mean you could consume it ? Should consume it ? Which amount, how, why, when ?
He was toying with you. You were nothing else but a something hollow of all essence now. Impulsively, you emptied the bottle of all the remaining pills and gulped them in one go. Consequences didnât matter at last, it was the only option left.
The world and words became blurry. Everything around you felt so fuzzy, like a ball of cotton. Your breath rarefied in your chest. Air was coming in, but few was coming out. Your brain felt so mushy it didnât even pick up the pain. Your body hovered from left to right, like you floated on an unsteady surface. Colours disappeared, and soon followed shapes and sound. The last thing you registered was icy water filling your throat.
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump. Thump. Eternal silence.
Death is not tender towards her most impatient children. In the dance between her and you, she stabbed you in the back and brought you to the world of living. A sharp pain, so vivid it woke you up.
You wheeze in your first inhale, pain crushing your ribs. The first thing you heard is the angry voice of your torturer :
âI-idiot ! Y-y-you re-really th-thought y-you c-c-could die ?! A-and le-leaving me behind ?!â
No, your protégé. A burning sensation tingled unpleasantly between your shoulder blades, where rested your mark. As you opened your eyes, you saw Toby above you, crying with snort drooling off his nose, the face torn by anger and fear.
Every breath felt like torture, and yet you managed to sit. The immediate answer was a punch in the chest from the proxy, who grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you like a ragdoll :
âWHAT WERE YOU THINKING ?! I GAVE YOU THE BOTTLE TO HELP, NOT FOR YOU TO KILL YOURSELF ! I-I WANTED YOU TO CHASE ME SO I HAD AN EXCUSE TO TAKE YOU AWAY FROM THE CITY, A-AND MAKE YOU RECOVER YOUR MEMORIES ! I-I KNEW I SHOULDâVE KIDNAPPED YOU FROM THE START, IâM SORRY IâM SO SORRY !â
He hugged you tightly, weeping in your neck. You returned the embrace, silently, as the mist of your amnesia slowly left your mind. You became one again.
When you looked down, your hands were stained with blood. An hallucination of your guilt, murmured your subconsciousness. Just something haunting you for all the horrible things youâve done for Him.
Toby was the one who killed Amanda Keller, but you were the one who got rid of it with cold efficiency. Just a routine mission your citizen identity managed to stumble on. How unlucky were you to be both the chaser and the chased ? You tore the hopes and dreams of that poor girl for the count of someone you didnât even know the face nor name, only a pseudonym. The Operator. You were facing something way greater than you once assumed, just a pawn in the game of a faceless actor.
You were right all along. Someone was toying with you. Just not Toby.
âCan I go out ?â You asked in a breathy murmur. âI⊠I need to go outside for a minute. Just a minuteâŠâ
Toby helped you stand, as you walked together you saw you two were in a little hideout that seemed to be the perfect place for squatters. It was all concrete and just dirty rags as blankets laying this and there. Sunlight gently caressed your face, and you sighed in relief at that sign that you were still human somehow.
You sat in the grass, touching it with your bare hands.
âLeave me alone, Toby. Please. I need⊠Time for myself. I-i wonât move, I donât think Iâm able to walk anyway⊠Just give me time.â
Toby looked at you and put his sweater on your shoulders and left. Hugging the fabric, you left yourself drift into the nebulae of your thoughts. Light ones, dark ones⊠From the surface to the deepest parts of your mind. You felt a weight in the sweaterâs pocket, you searched in it and took out a folded piece of velvet. Your mask, the face of your crimes.
You put the mask in the grass, observing it with bland eyes. From a tree nearby, a purple flower fell and landed on the mask. A beautiful flower with vivid colours, but ultimately fated to die, and submitted to the worldâs whims.
You only had one action left. To choose your own ending.
Pick up the withered flower.
➻➻➻➻➻➻➻➻➻➻
