Destruction

Contemplation

Dark didn’t enjoy being stared at. He hated the eyes on him that seemed to pull him apart where he stood to get the answers they craved. He was not afraid of them, but he was annoyed by the questions. They asked him as if he knew and was responsible for the acts of a man that he himself had never met. And then there was Wesley. Wesley, the (ex) District Attorney, and best friend of Mayor Damien. Perhaps more than best friend of the soft mayor. He stared at the three for a moment before he straightened up and popped his neck back into place.

“I’ve wasted my time here enough. I see now that this place is infested with ants and I can no longer return to this place as I have done.”

    He could see the way the detective tensed and seemed to press himself back like a snake preparing to strike. Dark took a deep breath into his old lungs, knowing full well there was no real need to do any breathing at all. His whole body was the same, He hardly had a need to eat or drink, but there was an occasional urge and he did have a taste for things like wines and bitter foods. Dark chocolates, seasoned meats, and soups. He knew these men before him saw him as a monster, but he was just as much a monster as they were. They’d all hurt people, all accidentally or purposefully caused things that could not be reversed. A bitter smile pulled across his face and he nodded a bit before vanishing into the darkness of the shadows behind him. They’d never even gotten his name, and he felt that was good enough for him.

    Wilford rose fast, his eyes wild. He rushed to the corner and felt the creases in the wallpaper and pulled at loose pieces as if he would find some hidden door the other must have escaped through. He shouted for the monster and scratched at the revealed wall beneath the floral paper. His body trembled violently and he was so wound up that neither of the other two could pry him from it. Wilford screamed, going limp against the tugs to his arms. Wesley’s eyes remained wide for the whole duration of the breakdown. He could not believe this man had previously been so composed only hours before.

By the time Abe got Wil away from the wall, the colonel’s fingertips were bloody and he could not manage a full sentence. Through the incoherent mumbling, a few bits could be heard from the man as he clutched handfuls of his hair and wept.

“Don’t take them from me-,” There were a few things between this that they could not decipher, then more. “Please, please, please, give them back!”

Abe could only do so much as he watched and observed from a few feet away. Wilford was collapsing into a manic hysteria he had never seen anyone fall into, aside from Wesley moments ago. Wesley thought very hard about the fact that he must have looked similar to how Wilford looked right now. Nothing could really be done.

The detective sighed softly and moved to the closet, pulling soft blankets from the top shelf and draping them over the shuddering man on the floor. He turned to Wesley and sighed faintly. His gaze said it all.

“I’ll move down to a different room, and you can stay with him. I don’t mind sleeping alone.”

Abe nodded a little and helped Wilford up onto the bed. Wesley gathered up his suit and sighed softly before leaving the room.

✶

Wesley managed to find Damien’s room in the midst of the many others. It lay undisturbed, just like it was on the day his friend vanished. The bed was hastily made, pillows remaining in a pile on the floor rather than put neatly on the bed as usual. He settled down into a chair beside the door and waited. He saw the vases and paintings, then remembered his arrival to the party so long ago and how Damien had joked about the District Attorney stealing from him. He laughed softly and hugged himself thinking about it. They’d been friends for so long, dating back to their college days, and they’d always exchanged playful banter like that. Abe had come along not too long after, though they’d never officially been introduced.

He only noticed the tears running down his face when a draft cooled them as they rolled down his cheeks. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes before looking toward the door. The man in the suit stood there, his black eyes settling on Wesley with uncertainty in his eyes. He had not been expecting the other to be in that room. He slowly shut the door behind him before sighing and stretching, Wesley wasn’t sure why it was that he did that so often, but he didn’t ask either. He hiccupped softly, following the man as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not inherently evil. I’m not cruel. I can see you’re in pain, but surely you know that lingering on these things will only make it worse on you. You’ll get so much more attached to nostalgia. Especially in this room. His room. Left like it was when he was taken away from you, likely from the last time you were in here with him…”

He remained silent for a moment before he pulled something out of his pocket. A little white badge, one with ribbon surrounding and trailing from it. Damien’s badge. He stood and passed it to Wesley.

“My given name is Dark.”

Wesley looked up at him before gazing back toward the badge. His eyes swelled with tears once more, soon falling freely. He pressed the small white piece against his cheek and sobbed like a child. It was still so raw. He could hear Damien in his head, scolding him for crying so much over him. He could see the furrowed brows and the worry when he would tell Wesley it wasn’t his fault like he was so convinced it was. Comfort was not Dark’s strong suit. He stood silently before moving forth to kneel in front of Wesley. He wrapped his arms around him and let him cry, but did not speak. What reason was there to reaffirm he was the man everyone blamed for the death of their dearest friend? It would be like rubbing salt in the jaggedly closing wound. This wouldn’t go away on its own.

“You don’t have to do this. Not f-for my sake. He wouldn’t want me to be so distraught over this. He wouldn’t want William so broken, or Abe so angry. He’d hate this. And Mark-,” He wheezed softly, shaking his head. “He would never let Mark do this to himself. Our Mark was so raucous sometimes, sure, but he was still our friend. I think fame stole the real one away from us somehow. I don’t know if you ever knew him..” Wesley said softly.

“My memories are complicated. They’ve combined from multiple people. You, Damien, Celine, Mark. I can remember many things, but I will forget as you remember for yourself. Essentially, I was holding your memories for you. I knew you would be back, and I was… looking forward to having my head to myself.”

Dark felt himself shrinking back from the conversation. He put a hand on Wesley’s cheek before rising from his kneeling position.

“Please, don’t dwell in this room much longer. It’s no good for you, and there are plenty of other places to stay tonight. I won’t force you but know you have to move on eventually. You can’t remain in hate and fear for the rest of your life..”

And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Dark? He clenched his fists and frowned before placing a hand over his eyes. Blue and red shook across his frame, his form wavering before he shoved the door open and left the room. Why now? Why did they always speak up when he spoke of forgetting them? They were nothing more than a stream of thought now, but they could still manifest their own opinions. RIght now, the part of him that remained Damien was screaming for him to turn and tell Wesley he was still alive and that he still loved him.  

Dark growled under his breath and swallowed the other beneath waves of his own thoughts to stifle him.

“This is not your body, this is not you. Not anymore. Leave me alone.”

“I just want to see him. I just want to tell him I’m okay, please, Dark-”

“You are not fine. It would break him to know about you in this form. A ghost is all you are at this point. Let go, you are as bad as he is at this point.”

“Is it so bad to have hope? If he came back from that Hell, why can’t I?”

“Because you’re dead, Damien. You were killed and you can’t get over it to move on. You’re trapped in this body because it’s all you have left. I’m all you have left.”

“I have Celine. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone but her now.”

“Then it’s settled.”

And, just like that, the metaphorical doors slammed shut in his head.