Stockholm Syndrome (Jalex)

Day Twelve

Alex. Day Twelve - 0:02

"I have to do it, Jacky. I have to do it."

My words had lingered in the silence for far too long, but it was just long enough for both us to accept the fates that would befall us. I'd accepted mine, and he knew, he knew what was to become of this whole ordeal; he knew it too well, I could too from the saddened glimpse in his eyes.

He knew what was going to happen, what needed to happen, and he knew that it needed to, but despite this, he was still stubborn enough to not want it to, but I guess that kind of innocently framed stubbornness was just what made Jack well... Jack. I just hated that I wouldn't be able to see that anymore.

"W-What do you have to do?" He knew - he just didn't want to know. He wanted to be told something else entirely and pretend things would never have to happen, but no, I'd already decided this all, and I'd spent far too long deciding as well. He wanted me, he wanted me to pretend that everything was alright for him, but I was Alex Gaskarth, I wasn't here to baby him - that's exactly what had gotten us into this mess in the first place.

"You know." My words came out in more of a linguated breath as opposed to actual formations of syllables, but he still managed to hear me - I could tell; I'd become painfully adept when it came to reading Jack and his emotions. It was a useful skill, but a painful skill, because sometimes thoughts were just kept private for a reason.

"I know you know." I didn't want to say it aloud and he wasn't going to guilt trip me into it, despite what those puppy dog eyes pleaded. Jack had a certain way with persuasion, and I was usually more than happy to given it, but it shouldn't affect me at all, I'm Alex Gaskarth, nothing should affect me, and there you have reason two as to why this has to happen.

"You're going to kill..." His words came to halt, his throat choking on air, unable to speak. I daren't finish his sentence for him either, leaving us in the most uncomfortable of silences ever known to man.

I began to think about last words. Last words were important, even if it'd only be the two of us to hear them; last words were the last remaining shard of a person's soul, drifting away as their spirit went beyond the veil.

At first I wasn't sure if I was ready, or if I really wanted to do this at all, but now I was more than certain. There was nothing else but this - it was the only thing to do, and it wasn't just required, it was begging to be done. It was like a dog yapping at my heels, and Jack was the cat distracting it and trying to tempt the dog away... hmm, Barakat, ironic, huh?

I began to think that maybe I didn't want to, but really I was just selfish - this is what's best, for the both of us. It's better for me, and it's better for Jacky - it'll keep the angels away, or the monsters. I can't differentiate between the two anymore, and I'm beginning to suspect that maybe the words 'angel' and 'monster' were just synonyms; two words for the same thing, leaving a confused society to interpret them as two different things.

The angels don't want me to, but I'll shut them out for now. They need what I'm going to take, and they're ravenous vultures circling overhead, wondering if they can still abuse the dead flesh. Angels and monsters are like scavengers, if anything, because they don't kill or feed directly, the abuse other people to their own will, and that's both brilliantly clever and terrifying at the same time.

I don't think I should have told Jack this. It'll probably scare him, but he needs to know what's going to happen. I owe him that at very least. The deathbed changes the world, doesn't it? It's odd how people only seem to care when someone's gone, but then again, humans. Humans are alive they don't care for some normal, only someone different, someone dead. That's why zombies hunt the living... or maybe just for revenge...