Love Me Dead《Bill x Ford: A Darker Reality》

...just to stop your feeling

n̴̨̲̜͖͈̝͈͎͂͂̕̕͝i̵̢̝̼̜̦̯͈̜̰̤̍̾̒͑̏͊̇̽͐͘͠͠ͅå̶̩̏́̎͊̃̋͊̓̿̾ĝ̵̳̇̆͒͊͗ą̸̢̞̘͎͚̖͖͌̿̒̋̚ ̵̛̜̱̺̹͖̬͇͇͖̦̻̖̐͆͗͗͗́͊͐̈͘t̸̥͙̺̰͍̳̥̙͓̹͓͕̣̗̟́̽͐̿e̴͈͓͔͖̘̞̬͖̱̯̭͈̮͓̓̄̋̑̔̅̑̉̅̏͌̄͘̚͜ë̶͓̬̖̉͌̇̅̑̑̎̅̓̐̀̀̕m̶̝͇͇͈͈͎̬͚͎̟͎͒ ̴̥͖̐̅l̶̝̝̗̞̏͗̂͆͗́̍͛̇̾͊͘͝l̴̹̩̝͙̜̿̿̾̋͂̑̏͘͘ ̵̰̜͍̥͉̜̒̽̈́̂̕̚e̸̢̛̞̳͓͍͖̖̝̿̃͗̄͆̚̕͜͝ẇ̸̡̟̳̳̜̞̯̳̜͙͈͍̩͗̃ ̴̢̙̳͉̠̦̹̖̩̜̙̖̺̇́̌̏͌͠ͅw̵̢̖͕̳̳̜͎̬̝͉̻̎ͅŏ̴͉͓̠̫̮̲̖̘̻͖̙͓̭͇̹̈́̌̎̒́̂̃͝n̶̢̧͖͚̫͍̭̟̰̺̫̖̜͂͐́̆͆͛͐̍̏̔͌̽̓̚͜ͅk̶̛̙͇̱̣̠̗͈̭̥̬̆̔̇̓̊͗̏̕͝ ̴̨͔̻̳͙́̾̌̑̓͛̊̐i̸̦̹̾̀̓ ̸̘̣͇͒̀̔t̴̛̞̝̝͂̂̂̀̾́̄̓̍̌̋̚͝ụ̸̅̽͑̽̂͌̀̿̒̈͝b̶͉̣̭̜̖̮̘̖͎͔͖̹̝͉͂̀͑͂͛̃̕͝ ̵̺͈̘̍͗̄̑̌͝͝n̶̫̲͇̺̜̺̽͜͜͜e̶̤̐̿̐̆̏̄̒̚̚͝ḥ̷̹̝͙̯͕͇͓͔̠̪̲͖̜̱̈́w̴̢̞̹̫̲͉̼͎̪̞̼̖͉̗͍̍̅̒́̀͗̚ ̶̡̛̤̭͕̈́̀͐̈͗͐̾̈́̑͝ẁ̷̫̥̖̋̆̑̌̏͜ỏ̸̡̧̥͚̲̱̼͎̝̈́̀̈̈́͂ņ̸̼̮͓̱̬̩̬̬̚͝ͅk̴̛̰̞̈́̋̉͗̏̅̌̑̍ ̴̢͉͕̦͙̟̳͇͔̙̘̝̘͎̅͂̽̈͘t̴͙͉̺̦͔͓̤͖̼̙̯̱̝̀̏̉̓̐́̉͐͊̎͋̕͝ ̷͍̹̯̻̫̯̘͍̪͎͙̿͂́̌͂̌́͘͜ͅń̵̡̛̪̦͌̃̽̊́͛̚o̴͖̪͙̠͍͓͉̓̈̌̾̀̎̾̂͒̚͝͝d̶̢̨̢̛̩̻͖̲̪͚̗̊̌͐̍̀̉̈́̃̕͘ ̷͓̰̾̽͋̀̽͊͛̂́̄̾̕͝͝ę̸̯͈̖̳̲̫͈̺̫͚̰̗̋͜r̶͙͈͚̦̪͎͉̬̖̝̒̓̉̍̀̈́̇ͅe̵̤̙̯̯̗͍̙̳̻̭̦͋͐ḧ̴̠̺̙́̋̑̓ŵ̶̛̘̗̼̟͈̜͈̝̼͈̓̆͆̋ ̴̘̖͙̘̠̦̫̯̪̮̯̹̓̄̈͋̍̃w̵̖̟͛͌ͅo̸̥̦̙͂̔n̴͕̩̰̤̺̤̤̯̰̑̓̆̾̀͆͂̆́̓́̾̍̈́ķ̵̛͕͉̮̱̘͎̲͔̱̙͈̄̇̋̀͜ ̵̧̡̘̱͌̊͐̎t̴̢̛͍̬͖̜͎̳̱̰̙̣͔̞͓̂̈́ͅ ̶̛̩̋n̷̫͍͇̣͚͗̑͂̋̇́͑̈́̚̚͝ͅǫ̵̨͔̪̬̰͉̼̮̀ͅd̷̟̝̦̾̒̅̿̀͊̾͜ ̴̧̦͍̤̱̹͍͎̫͙̘͖̑̌̆̽̂̇̓́̅͋̀n̶̢̥͚̘̱͚̟̠̤̟͍͚̩̏̀̈͑͆̕͠i̶̮͇̘͐̋͌́̍͆̆̋̅̿̿͝͝a̷͚̮̖̠̪̳͚̲̔̒̂̽͋͌̃́̄͐͆̈́͆͘͝ǵ̷̡͙̤͚͓͖́͂̓̇́̀̔̂̊͆͆̌͠͠a̶̻̹̰̭̣̓͝ ̵̡̰̤̬̖͓̰͗͗̐ţ̵̡̺̥̜̑͂̋́e̴͖͒͌̎͝͝ḛ̵̡̛̤̂̔̾̓͆̅̒̆́̕͘͜m̷̛̦̲̫͐̒́̈́̀̈́̂̄͊̂̾̕͝ ̸̢̖͔͇́̓̈́͗͌̊̈̿̊͝͝͠͝ļ̸̛̭̪̾͐͂̀̀̀̈́͘͘ͅl̶̨̠͍̰̖̖̈͐̐̀̓̏͘̕̕͘͜͝e̵̡̖̝̪̦̱͓̜͍͍̻̝͓͎̿w̷̡͇̺̩̗͊̑̅͊́̊͝͝͝

I desperately tried to ask them what they meant, but no matter how hard I screamed, no sound came out.

As the chanting grew louder, the forest suddenly engulfed in flames, screaming laughter echoing, and then—

—Missing Pages from 'Book Three'

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My pen hits the paper. The journal I was currently writing on—frantically writing on—as the library blurred away wasn't a testament to my happiness, but something even more profound—my pain.

y̵̡̹̥͙̻̤̬̣̮̝͓̪͌̿̿͗̑̀͒̾r̸̡̻͚̤̙͓̮͎̰̲͜͜͠a̶̢̢̖̝̲̭̲̗̘̻͔͛̒̂̒̐u̷͔̦͇̥̜̙̙͛̂͂̈̀̂̉̐͑̾̄͂̕͠t̵̞̄̂̓́̐̿i̸̙̖̻̎̏̑̇̃̄̐́͒́͗̽͊̕͝b̸̢̡̢̧̗̦̻̮͙̠͔̯̒̉̾͋ö̸̰́̄͋͌̓̋͘͠ ̵̪͓̲̇̓̎̍́̽̈͗̀̈́͠ŷ̴͚̽̈́̉͠m̶̨̖̫͉̘̍̓́̀́́͊̌̎̈́̚͘͝

And then my surroundings blurred back into focus. I discreetly tuck the journal in my pocket. Hoping that, once Bill was through with me, someone would uncover it among the wreckage and make my story known.

My feet curl into sand, and I feel the spray of waves lapping against my ankles. I'm standing on a beach not far from where Clarence and I had spent our decades gazing at the sunrise together. Only, the water isn't crystalline blue—