mute man | Septiplier

15

                        °Jack°

Time was at a stop.

A voice ringing in my ear.

I am you

The real you

The one that deserves this death.

Nothing could be heard other than the words and my loud crying.

A new voice appeared in my head.

It had a echo, dark voice.

It sounded almost like Mark.

But completely different.

I see what you are doing Jack.

He spoke softly.

You need to stop.

You need to let go.

Let go of him.

No. No!

Let go of yourself.

Give him control.

Give the real you control.

The real me?

I stood up and grabbed Marks hand "Mark please, you have to remember me!" I plead.

He didn't move.

He just stared at me.

I shook my head, my screams and sobs becoming silent tears.

Maybe this is good.

Maybe we can start over.

Become friends again.

He won't remember her.

He won't remember anyone.

And that could be good.

I wiped my tears from my face.

"I'm here to take you home." I said, my voice cracking.

He looked at me, fear and worry in his eyes.

He nodded slowly.

"I brought you some clothes" I grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt with some black sneakers.

You knew this was going to happen, you fucking idiot.

You should've fucking gave us control.

Us.

You are nothing to him.

You were nothing to him.

He never cared.

And you know that.

It'd be so much easier if-

No.

Stop.

Please.

Just stop.

I'm not hurting him.

I'll never hurt him

Please just leave me alone.

Let me go home.

A nurse came in and unhooked Mark from the machines. I nodded my thanks to her.

Mark got dressed quickly and walked out with me.

His hair was a mess, his skin was pale, his body was limp. His chocolate brown eyes were lost of life. It was like he was a zombie.

He spoke nothing to me as we got in the car.

I began to remember the first car ride we had together. I fell asleep to the soft pattering of the rain and he carried me in to sleep. I smiled at the memory.

I glanced over at him.

He was still.

His chest heaved up and down like it was carrying bricks.

He glanced over at me.

"What?" His voice was hoarse and rough against my ears.

His voice was like a knife, cutting into my neck.

It was the first time I ever heard him clearly.

I smiled "nothing, just checking to see if you were okay" I spoke

He didn't respond.

My iron grip on the steering wheel kept me on Earth, my eyes becoming dizzy and my body shaky.

When we reached the house, I got out and he remained in the car.

I walked to his side and opened the door.

His eyes were locked onto the house as he whispered "Amy."