Memory Fragments: Probity

As It Begins (VII/X)

Each time I see these pictures in my head, like a photobook of sorts, I begin to question the morality of all this. Wherever it might have found me or not, the sense of dread lurked in every decision I have ever taken. But not anymore. And because of that, I question my own certainty. If I cannot be certain of my morality, how can I trust in myself to not take a side? To analyze and object impartially to my own soul and the ones of others. Whenever I see a picture flying by, I see it in either black, or white. More or so like a canvas; an empty frame in which ideals and truths have been plastered upon.

Locked away in the faraway regions of this subconscious, I catch glimmers of blurred out memories. Neither white nor black, I stop for a moment to see what kind of picture they might be but, alas, all I see is a grey format. No composition, no mirrored frames, just grey paint all over the canvas. I wonder if these grey pictures and paintings have to do with the fact that I am inside not only Edward's, but also the hearts of Crow and myself. Is there some common ground we once stood on? Or is it like premonitions given out to us by each other to warn us about the dangers we might cause to ourselves? Frankly, I don't know. I don't think any of us does. Seeing this grey things, I am certain of our uncertainty.

...As I think more and more about the possibilities that could have happened had I done things differently, I question not my decision, but the option itself. Why would things like that ever be something possible for me to choose? From what causes do they originate from? Given the consequences I have seen, what version of me took the choice that led to them? Or, not took, but could have taken, I guess? Maybe it is in the past tense, given that I am seeing the results. Or, like I said, the warnings. So is this yet to happen then? What if it is a cycle? A cycle between black and white. If Crow represents the black, am I the white? That...cannot be so. Am I truly so naive when it comes to morality? Gabriela, sure she is white as the snow but, me? Given the many, many white lies I have told her, and the ones I'm keeping still, can I be truly white with not one stain to my name?

...Faust. That is Crow's name, isn't it? Edward's, if I remember correctly, was Erick. So then, am I not Faust? No, bullshit. Of course I am Faust. That is my fucking name for fuck's sake! When I get out of here, I'm going to ask Gabriela to call me by name instead of just letting her call me mister or, well, father. Still, Faust...Faust, Faust, Faust, motherfucking Faust...the more I say it, the more it feels like I am calling out to a stranger.

...Is that so, then? If I...Erick? Please, respond to my voice. If this is truly how things are right now, then you are not the person I thought I was inside of this entire time. Erick, if you are somewhere in here, then you already know the maze that this is. You know Edward is just another version of you; someone corrupted that threw you in here to be forgotten and perfected until the day you shall resurface again as a new, separated entity. Devoid of flaw and...wait. That voice. You sound like, wait. Erick? Is it really? Why does it sound so distant? Erick? Wait. I...I am coming, Erick. Just, keep that sound and I'll get there, ok?

...Keep it up, please. The more and more I hear it, Erick's voice starts to sound ever so different from Edward's. If can hear me, please say so! Erick! Edward is gone now, ok? I'm here to...why am I here for? What? I...why am I here for, really? Did I forget my goal? I was following this voice in...my head? No but, I'm inside Edward's...myself, then? No, no, no. That is not...how? Wait. No. That. When? When did I...take a wrong turn somewhere? Erick. Your voice is...no longer sounding. Feeling. It is...feeling. Why do I feel your voice now? Am I close? To what? I...I see only a black wall, I guess? Blocking me right now. I...can feel your voice's vibrations through it. Are you behind it? Like a barricade, perhaps? It has a lock in it though. So...it was not here to keep you in there forever then. It was meant to be opened at some point. But, where is the key to it? Erick, talk to me again. Do you know of this key? ...There is no key? What!? Then why in the seven fucks is there a lock then!? Might as well just be a meter thick wall! Erick, come on. Erick?

"No true walker of the grey path holds a key to either side as they do not need to peer into them. Only by looking inside themselves can they see both sides and none at the same time."

"Aaron, I am not the one behind the black wall of corruption. But you, behind the white wall of probity, are to remain there. Until you find the Faust within, shall you crumble and be whole again."

...

As it begins, the beginning of grays. As I walk the middle road, the gray path; one sees neither the black nor whites of the world. But instead, it sees the full range of colors emanating from the white side being absorbed into the black one. One how is pure and without stain, or one who is sullied beyond a single clean spot, none shall ever know what it means to be the other. Even if they swap places, they will remain the same person; no matter what side they are on.