Heaven's End

Chapter 7

A week passed. The light never returned. The first few nights were full of suspense and terror, fearing that the last of us will be finished off with another wave of insanity, or another form of our destruction. We all kept weapons close by, most of us dreaming that we wouldn’t have to use them. Most of us didn’t want another bloodshed. Most of us wished for an eternity of peace to re-build.

Most of us.

I wasn’t one of them.

I spent most of that first night craving images of ‘the Master’, as Rain called him, on my arm, the blade of my knife leaving scars that will forever remind me that he is watching. I know not of his plans or aims, but he must exist, he has to exist. I can’t have shot Halu. I’m not a monster like Rain.

Yet I crave for another night of fear and violence.

No, not crave...require.

I require another night of fear and violence. I know Rain has the same feelings. We both want the same goal: an excuse to kill the other. We cannot co-exist, not anymore.

But it didn’t come. It never did return. The light of chaos had seemingly done its tour of Heaven’s End. Maybe it’s in another part of this vast landscape, maybe there is no other part. It’s already changed everything forever. ‘The Master’ appearing, Rain becoming a demon in human form, the destruction of any hopes the few optimists cradled in their arms before the event...everything.

Now Heaven’s End is a wasteland. No more residents.

I can only draw two conclusions from this. Either the world has finally achieved a state of peace, with no need to take your own life anymore, or that humanity has been destroyed. Considering this is humanity, I’m going with the apocalypse theory.

I blow off the thick layer of dust resting on a strange carving on the broken wall. It takes a few seconds to see the image clearly, but it eventually reveals itself to be a shape of an eye. Various lines spout off it, curling underneath the image. The pupil follows me, carved to look extremely focused on the object it is gazing on.

A female voice calming states over my shoulder “Horus’ eye.”

The voice belongs to the emo girl. It’s of no surprise she’s there, we’d both been paired up together to scout the surrounding area for other survivors. All we’ve found are piles of corpses and one or two insane residents, nothing we didn’t already expect.

After a few hours searching, my gaze passed over the carving of Horus’ eye.

“It’s a symbol of good luck and fortune, and a protector against ills.” The emo girl bends down, and traces her finger around the edges of the lines that make up the symbol.

I raise an eyebrow, before replying “Isn’t that like the all-seeing eye...you know: illuminati stuff.”

She laughs slightly “Seriously, you should have stayed out of the weird part of YouTube.”

I don’t chuckle, keeping my focus on the eye. “Someone must have spent months making this.” I feel the edges, and then jolt my hand back in surprise, shaking my wrist and blowing cold air onto my finger tips. Eventually I stop and stare at my now burnt finger. “Fuck, that’s hot”.

The emo girl raises an eyebrow, seeing my injury “That’s...” She pauses, biting her lip in deep thought, seemingly tempted to touch the engraving herself, “This must have been burnt in, recently. As in, just before we came here. Literally, a few seconds before.”

“So the guy must be close.” I smile and stand up “You have to be sane to be able to burn this in, right?”

“Wouldn’t we have been able to hear a blow-torch? And, besides, there are now scorch marks. Even with the best blow touches in the world, well, at by the time I had killed myself, it would take at least 7 days for the black stains to fade.”

“So we’re dealing with a ghost?” I laughed “Stop over thinking things. We don’t know the physics behind this place. It could be possible blow-torches just are messed-up here.”

"Be serious. Who the hell would kill themselves with a blowtouch in hand?"

I shrug "Maybe someone who wanted to burn off their face? I don't know the trend these days. Back in 2012 it was pills, guns and slitting wrists that people were into. Maybe jumping off a building if they wanted to make a scene."

The emo girl slapped lightly on the arm "Stop being a dick. Suicide is nothing to laugh at."

"I've been through it, so aren't I allowed to?"

"No." She said firmly.

"Fine then...we'll go with your theory of ghost with tourches if it will take you off that period-like mood..."

"Stop being so closed-minded...err...” She scrunched up her face “What’s your name?”

“DoubleM.”

“We’ve got Ellie, Steph, Sky and even Rain. What sort of nam-“

“That’s the only name you’re getting.” I tuck my burnt finger under my arm pit, not even glancing at the emo girl to see her reaction. Instead I deepen my stare at the carving. “What’s your name anyways?”

“Too many people curse it, so I don’t see the point of giving you it.” I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was expecting some sort of attention, but I was giving her little, if any at all. She sighed heavily before continuing “You can call me Taylor. Not my real name, but I’m guessing you’ll understand why I would hide behind a false alias.” She waited a few seconds for a reply before making a small, whining noise “Won’t you fucking listen to me?! I actually gave a damn about you!”

I raise my hand and make two short, sharp flicks in her direction, a gesture to show my lack of interest in her ramblings. I couldn’t stop glaring at the eye.

“You are immature, stupid, and most of all ignorant. I never created you this way!” Taylor cut herself off, biting her lip.

I snap my head at her “Created?” My head naturally span back to face the eye, as if a pair of invisible hands had grabbed my head and turned it.

She didn’t answer for a while. In fact, it was so long that I thought she wasn’t there anymore, that I was left alone to continue to be transfixed to this engraving. But then I heard a brief mumble, not one of anger or annoyance like I was expecting, but one of fear and shock.

She slowly raised a arm, outstretching a single finger aimed at my right hand, which was resting on the ground.

I snapped a glance at it, and then focused on it fully.

It was the eye, cut into my hand perfectly. Blood was still spluttering from the fresh scars engraved on my palm. I slowly closed the hand, suddenly feeling the pain that was absent before. It sent pulses of torture jolting through my arm, making my muscles strain.

I moved my other hand to support it, but when I did I saw it was holding a blood-coated edge of glass. I had done this to myself.

I turned to face Taylor, giving a look of worry “How...how long was I doing that for?”

“T-two hours,” She took a deep breath “You wouldn’t snap o-out of it. I tried shouting, hitting you, threatening you...you just wouldn’t stop. Your face was blank, you were just...” She buried her face into her hands, quietly sobbing.

“B-but...why?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” She screams, tearing her hands away from her face, revealing a wave of tears rolling down her face. “I just don’t know...”

I just stared at my hand, now with the forced scar on it. It burns right through me, making my hand flop, then forcing my body to follow.

I just lie there, not moving, seeing Taylor turn and run, hoping it’s for help but knowing it’s for fear. I don’t blame her; it’s what I would have done myself. Fear can change even the strongest of humans into a coward. Fear is the strongest emotion, even trumping hope many times. Maybe it’s just in our self-preserving nature to give into the chills of the unknown.

Yet why do we always eventually come back to face them head-on?

I roll my eyes back into my head and fall into a temporary state of darkness, with only Horus’ eye for company in the abyss of my mind.