(OLD) MANCHINEEL (a tpot grimdark)

5: the decision

3:00 AM.

the red numbers stared into tree's eyes, laying on his side on the bed.

pounding in his head, the voices screamed at him to make a move. but, he couldn't move, like he was strapped down to the bed as if he was in a hospital.

all he could do was stare at the alarm, the red glow burning into his eyes.

it turned into 3:01 AM. then 3:05 AM. then 3:15 AM.

it felt like hours were going by.

days, even. weeks? months?

it had been a week since the encounter with fanny. the only reason she had came into his room was to argue.

that's the only reason for anything.

no emotions got replaced with sudden anger, voices growing louder.

it was getting to be too much. they were ripping through his head, biting through his leaves, breaking the twigs in half.

he couldn't take it anymore.

breaking the imaginary cuffs, he finally threw himself out of his bed, almost on cue. stiffened muscles became relaxed as he slowly stretched.

"get out of your room." a sudden voice whispered in his ear. it was a demand. as if he was being controlled, he had walked up to his door and threw the door open aggressively.

anger began to light up in his body. he couldn't even pay attention to anything around them.

all that he could see was red and black.

everything.

the walls, the floor, even himself- red and black.

it was eyestraining. it poked in his eyes, causing him to squint. what the hell was going on?

his breathing became heavier as anxiety clung at his back. his body began to shake, unintelligible yelling scratching at the back of his head.

"living room." the voice demanded once more, and tree had to oblige. heavy footsteps filled the hallway, dragging his feet towards the room, his anxiety only growing bigger.

why was he listening to them?

why were they leading him to the living room?

and what was that hatch in the ceiling?

"the attic," the voice, now growing more demanding replied to his thoughts on cue. "go
into it."

his body went cold. go into it? there was no visible opening, no rope to pull it open, nothing. but, of course, he was pushed forward by invisible arms forcefully, his footsteps now lighter with caution.

stepping on the couch, creaking from tree's weight, he eyed the black hatch, beckoning to be opened, poking out of the red ceiling.

he had waited for another command by the voice. nothing came, every sound engulfed in whispers.

there was only one thing to do.

his hand forced itself up, scraping gently against the hatch. almost at an instant, his hand froze up, backing away from the hatch.

questions and questions entered his mind, engulfed in fear as the murmured voices flooded through his brain.

but, he came to his senses, and almost as if he was trying to punch the ceiling, he pushed the attic open.

the colors returned. he was surrounded by darkness. the moonlight shone out of a window near the couch, sparkling on the fabric.

the voices disappeared, too. every single one of them.

he was left in silence.

no time to think.

he hauled himself up with a groan, pushing himself into the dusty attic, holding in his coughs to try and keep everyone asleep.

a thump ensued as his frame climbed into the hidden room all the way. it was filled with boxes, slightly illuminated by the small window on the other side of the room.

propping himself up, he brushed up against the claustrophobic walls, his attention darted to the side of the room without a window.

something shiny caught his eye.

it was propped up against the wall. almost light blue by the moonlight. no specks were seen, only coated by dust. gaping his eyes, he walked towards it, managing to grab it by what seemed was a wooden handle. it was heavy, but he managed.

he inspected the object he was holding. a rectangle blade, curved on both ends. a long, wooden handle, as expected.

an axe.

as he realized, his mind suddenly went blank, as if he was being hypnotized by the weapon in his hands.

"do it," the voice returned.

"kill her."