How You Play the Game

Shatter

At least, that's what Mark thought.
It's beautiful, the things one comes up with in their final living moments. Things they want to see. Things they want to happen. Almost cruelly beautiful how in their last dying breaths they can live their dream.
They were still in the snowy forest. Mark's throat was gushing crimson blood, and the ashes of a particular short skeleton were in a pile nearby.
"Mark? Mark, Mark, come on, open your eyes. Please. No, don't go, you can't go, you...you have to.... Don't leave me..." Jack wailed, clutching Mark's bloodstained shirt. He watched the light slowly die from his eyes. Mark's head lolled to the side and Jack knew it was over. But he didn't believe it.
"Mark! Mark! Come on, this isn't funny! Wake up! Chara can't just do you in like this! You're stronger than that, I know it! Mark, come back! I need you here, I still need you here..." Jack pleaded, his voice cracking.
An hour later.
Jack stood up slowly. It felt like he hadn't moved in one hundred years. He stretched his stiff legs, gazing blankly at the blood spattered across his clothes. Mark's blood. He glanced down at the corpse.
Chara. Chara's fault.
Chara was dead.
Who knew Chara?
Monsters.
Monsters knew Chara.
Monsters let Chara do this.
Monsters probably worked with Chara.
Chara was dead.
Guilt by association.
Kill all monsters.
Monsters killed Mark.
His tear stained face was as emotionless as a stone as he picked up the knife Chara had used to kill Mark.
Kill the monsters with Mark's knife.
Justice.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Jack's face grew into a grin. A twisted, broken, insane grin you'd only see in horror movies.
Mark. Mark. Mark. Mark. Mark. Mark.
I'll turn this world to ash.
Jack closed his eyes and listened. He could hear giggling. Loud, high-pitched. Screeching laughter, like a mad hyena. Who's voice was that?
He opened his eyes to find it was his own.

A/N: OKAY. Because I had to. Thanks for joining me, and I'll see all you dudes...IN THE NEXT FANFICTION! Buh-bye!