Darkness Retribution

Truthful Trauma

As Emo Jesus sat in the corner of the dimly lit living room, the faint sound of his guitar strings filled the air, melancholy yet soothing. Everyone had gathered after another strange day, with the weight of the adventure starting to settle. Mafia Mickey Mouse, however, couldn't take the silence. He paced back and forth, his black ears twitching in frustration as he tried to make conversation.

"Hey, uh, Jesus," Mickey said, forcing a grin. "Why are you always so cold, huh? Thought we were friends now. You saved my life from that weird cult, remember? You don't have to be so mean."

The others exchanged nervous glances. Even Duolingo, who was busy preparing some elaborate meal in the background, paused as if sensing the shift in energy. Freddy Fazbear, Daddy Hello Kitty Batman, and Toe Pedeos all looked toward Emo Jesus, wondering how he would respond. Neuvillette, as usual, stood aloof, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. Felix leaned in closer to you, resting his chin on your shoulder as if preparing for what might unfold.

Emo Jesus, still plucking at his guitar strings, sighed loudly. The room fell silent. Without looking up, he placed the guitar gently against the wall and straightened up. His eyes, framed by thick, black eyeliner and a world-weary expression, met Mickey's, and for the first time since joining the group, there was no hint of sarcasm or indifference.

"You really want to know why I'm like this?" Emo Jesus muttered, voice laced with bitterness.

Mickey took a step back, suddenly regretting his question. "Uh, yeah? I mean, you're always so... intense."

The room tensed up, and Felix shifted beside you. You could feel him squeeze your hand, as if bracing for whatever dark truth was about to be revealed.

Emo Jesus stood up, his long, black coat flowing as he moved. His presence was intense, commanding, as if the weight of the world rested on his slouched shoulders. His lips pressed into a thin line before he began, eyes distant.

"You want to know why I'm so 'cold' or 'mean'?" His voice was low, each word heavy with unspoken pain. "It's because... I wasn't accepted. Not by you guys, not by this world, and especially not by the family I was supposed to be part of."

Neuvillette subtly raised an eyebrow, clearly interested now, though he remained silent.

"My story isn't like the one they tell in the books," Emo Jesus continued, his gaze drifting toward the window as if staring into a distant memory. "I was supposed to be the golden child, you know? The chosen one. But I wasn't... enough for them."

Freddy, clearly puzzled, leaned in toward Daddy Hello Kitty Batman. "Wait, isn't he literally Jesus? How is that even possible?" Batman shushed him, his mask not hiding his confusion either.

Emo Jesus ignored the comment and kept talking, his voice growing softer, more pained. "I didn't fit their mold. I wasn't the perfect beacon of light they wanted. I wasn't their idea of holiness. I was... different. I liked the darker things. The music, the clothes, the silence. So, I embraced it. I embraced who I was meant to be. But they didn't."

The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of Duolingo chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

"They cast me out," Emo Jesus said, his voice trembling ever so slightly, though he masked it well with a shrug. "Not out of heaven or anything dramatic like that—just out of their lives. I wasn't good enough to be part of the family, part of their image. They didn't want an 'emo son,' so they told me I wasn't holy enough. That I didn't fit their brand."

The bitterness in his tone cut through the room like a knife, and even Mickey Mouse had stopped pacing, his grin completely gone. He now watched Emo Jesus with a mix of sympathy and regret.

"And so," Emo Jesus continued, his eyes now hard as stone, "I left. I became what they feared. I became who I am now." He gestured to himself, the dark clothes, the disheveled hair. "And I'm fine with that. I don't need their acceptance anymore."

Felix, who had been quietly holding your hand, gave you a knowing look. He leaned in and whispered, "That's heavy. Makes sense why he is the way he is."

You nodded, feeling the weight of Emo Jesus' story. But then, the inevitable question came. Freddy Fazbear, in his typical, blunt manner, broke the silence with a cautious, "Uh, so like, did they actually kick you out? Like, God kicked you out? Isn't that kinda hardcore?"

Emo Jesus shot him a glare that could have cut through steel. "Yeah, Freddy, it was 'hardcore.' But I'm not looking for sympathy."

Mafia Mickey Mouse shuffled awkwardly, now fully regretting bringing up anything at all. "Hey man, I didn't know. I mean, I get it, being rejected and all. But like... that's rough. Maybe I should stop bothering you."

For a moment, it seemed like the tension in the room would remain, but Emo Jesus, ever unpredictable, merely rolled his eyes. "Yeah, maybe you should."

Felix squeezed your hand again, and you could feel the sadness lingering in the air. Even Duolingo, who had been distracted in the kitchen, seemed to sense the mood, offering everyone some tortilla chips in an attempt to lighten things up. It didn't help much, but it was something.

Finally, Neuvillette spoke, his calm and measured voice cutting through the tension. "Well, that certainly sheds light on a few things," he said dryly, offering his usual understated observation. "But I suppose we all have our pasts."

Mickey Mouse, rubbing the back of his neck, muttered, "I mean, at least you found a group who gets you, right? We're all a bunch of misfits anyway."

The room sat in silence for a moment before Freddy blurted out, "So, does this mean we have to give Jesus a hug or something?"

Emo Jesus glared at him, his expression screaming "absolutely not." "No hugs," he said flatly. "I just... wanted you to know."

As the group sat with the weight of Emo Jesus' story, the room finally began to relax. Duolingo brought out more snacks, trying to cheer everyone up. Freddy awkwardly patted Emo Jesus on the back, which earned him another glare, and Felix gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, both of you feeling grateful to be part of a group, even if it was an odd one.

Mafia Mickey Mouse, still unsure how to act around Emo Jesus, muttered, "So... we cool now?"

Emo Jesus sighed, picking up his guitar again. "Yeah, whatever. Just... don't expect me to talk about it again."

Freddy Fazbear, ever the blunt one, then asked, "But seriously, why the actual skibidi toilet would you bring a suicidal version of Mickey Mouse to the group?" His voice echoed with a mix of genuine confusion and amusement.

Emo Jesus rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. "I didn't bring him here. He followed me, like a lost puppy. It's not my problem."

Mafia Mickey Mouse, looking slightly offended, shrugged. "Hey, man, it's better than being in that weird cult, okay?"

Neuvillette, ever composed, simply sighed, "Whatever."

And just like that, the strange moment passed, leaving the team closer than before. For now, anyway.