The Retired Anarchist - A Dream SMP Story

Adopted Thoughts

CHAPTER THREE

Adopted Thoughts

Present Day. Two Weeks and Three Days before The Blood Siren.

Techno has tried many times in the past.

At first, it had struck him as a sort of revelation. A possible loophole for a way-out of the misery in his head.

But the misery had not agreed. When he clutched the knife to his chest, the blade pointed over his heart, his hands had shaken with strain. He wasn't scared of ending it or feeling any pain. He was just too weak to bring it through his skin. The voices had overpowered him easily, whispering stories of their suffering and forcing his fingers to unravel from the hilt and the blade to hit the ground.

Every time the same things would happen. He'd try and then he'd be stopped. Even the voices of the dead who served the almighty Blood God did not want him gone. When the thoughts of the loophole filled his head, the voices would only scream louder, leaving him shaking and crying on the floor until his family came rushing in to hold him. To save him.

Only now as he shakes violently on the ground of his finished house, nobody is here to save him.

You won't see Wilbur again if you do this.

If you die, we pass on to another chosen child. You would only be giving your suffering to another.

Is this how you want to be found? Covered in your own blood and tears? Is this what you want your father and brothers to find? A scared boy who lost his honour?

"FINE!" He cries, his hands shaking in front of his face. The knife lays beside one of the many lanterns. The blade flashing in the light. It is distracting so Techno turns onto his side, his back facing the blinding light. He curls into a fetal position, his tears staining the new floor and his long pink hair encircling the floor around his head. He tucks his hands into his chest, his mind creating a mirage of a tiny pig plushie against his chest.

"Please," he begs, his voice quiet and trembling. He shuts his eyes listening to the voices murmur amongst themselves before vanishing altogether.

"I know you are sad but I don't know why."

Techno brings his knees further into his chest. He knows tensing against his shaking limbs is fruitless but he could not help himself from doing it. Instead, his limbs vibrate as if he was experiencing a major earthquake that rocks the whole house. He cries in his defeat.

"When I feel sad, I go and watch the bees fly around Mr. Dad's garden. Then I don't feel sad anymore"

Techno says nothing. He feels sick. His head pounds and his stomach churns uneasily. Is he going to throw up?

"Would you like to watch the bees with me Techno? We can feel happy together."

"There are no bees, Tubbo," Techno whispers.

Tubbo does not reply. Instead, there is silence. It is a thick and heavy silence. The kind of silence that would send shivers down Techno's spine every time he heard it. When the voices would stop talking and the star-devoid sky would loom over him, inky and black. He'd beg for the voices to return and sometimes they'd listen. Now Techno lies in the heavy silence but instead of feeling fear, he feels guilt.