Fuck You.. Fate

Chapter 17..The Start Of A Chase

The world was fuzzy..warm and quiet, and very pleasant. Amidst the chaos that had rendered him wounded all these days..Syren felt unconsciously peaceful.

In this warm translucent layer of glitter surrounding his head, nothing bad would come to hurt him, well nothing that he could comprehend..and it should have calmed him down further..but this fact alone was terrifying enough. That moment of not knowing what was happening to him, where he was and who even he was..it was haunting, almost.

Those Drugs were so familiar to him..their effect, the peace they brought upon him..all packed in the form of Blueberry cupcakes; And yet, They recalled of something haunting, something terrific. It was not about the serenity that they brought with themselves, it was more about the destruction Syren knew he would feel after these drugs wore off.

He lay slump on the red cushion beneath him, his mind ticking off slowly, and his words turning blabberish and sloppy. The King's deep, gravel like voice kept asking him things, things that the warmth in his head did not understand..words that he could not comprehend, and yet he replied to all of them.

And That was how it always was..

People did not seem to understand when to stop asking for things from him..when to stay quiet and maybe let him breathe a little. Syren was used to it, he claimed stubbornly that he was..but the ache everyone brought over him was always much stronger. Never mattered the harsh circumstances he had suffered from, because words always seemed to plunge deep in him. Every time he thought he was strong enough, someone or something would come strangling him, as if sensing the little happiness, and everytime he would weep and cry..for what, he did not understand.

The crystals in his vision slowly started to dim, and his throat stopped vibrating..indicating he was no longer talking. The world blackened into complete darkness..and he fell limp on the ground..a question, unknown to him, left hanging in the air.

~•~•~

"Ah..."

Amidst the quiet blackness of his conscience, slow whisperes stroked him gently. It was a continous mantra of something, threatening to take him out of this warmth. Syren felt unable to move, to hear, to sense..or to open his eyes.

"Ah...ah—!"

Someone was calling his name..and yet he did not want to listen.

Syren felt himself wrapped up in a plush, furry blanket..and in the same golden room he had met the lady before. The lady, he soon realized, was the one calling out to him in the most lightest of voices. Her expression was panicked, Syren couldn't tell due to the blurriness in his eyes. His ears were ringing, ringing so hard with strange, dirty voices..and he could feel nothing..he could do nothing. His arms did not move, his eyes did not shut close..and the voices did not stop..never stopped.

"..Yeah? You feel good?"

For some time he couldnt even recognize her..He could not make out the difference between reality and imangination. He knew this wasn't real, he really did..but his instinct could not make out that difference.

Faces morphed into each other..The old lady's face seemed to mold into the dirty face of a man..and everytime it did, a sheet of sweat masked his forhead.

"I-I love it..love it so much, baby..hnngh, look at that—look at that pliant body.."

Hands were touching him, Syren could not understand whose. Brown eyes changed into dark black orbs, and wrinkles morphed continously and repetitively into hair and beard.