Volume V: The Tragic End of Treason

Chapter 25. Reign of Hypocrisy

Full circle.

            A series of revelations led my mind astray. The cycle would continue, despite my decision. Somehow, things would continue. I’d have to search out Mr. Crowe; my inquisitive nature would lead me to him. But recollection is necessary. After the earthquake, I was left vacant. Purpose was beyond my knowing. What am I to do now? Should I fulfill the expectation that’s been set for me? Should I take this road?

            What other road is here for me?

            There is no alternative. This’ my own madness tearing me to pieces. I was trained, I was tried - should I be grateful? They drugged my life away, they left me bitter and lacking emotion. The perfect candidate for Vincent’s gang. They set me up to self destruct. They wanted me to be their murderer. And I’d fallen right into it, headlong to boot.

            I was an orphan in this tempest of society. None will claim my soul from this abyss. No matter what I do now, I’m damned.  There is only taking the steps toward my fall. I just have to keep to moving. But what happens if I don’t ? What if I don’t take the step?

            The key to human nature is free will. I can decide my own destiny. All this time I’ve spent listening to other people distort the truth - they’ve been telling me what they want me to believe. They expected me to forget - God, how I wish I could. I can’t forget. I’ve been trying. All the madness I’ve gone through; ignorance truly is bliss. If only it were so simple.

            Do you know why it’s so hard to cure depressed people, or schizophrenics, or people with suicidal tendencies? Because the symptoms never completely go away - they merely fade. They become dormant - nothing more. Everything comes full circle, that’s life. What you don’t know haunts you. And in this game, we’re all fools, we’re all sinners - we’re all children. Ignorant - far from innocent. The turn of a wheel, the spin of the chamber; one way or another, we come back.

            Syn left me with a folder neatly organized and bound; my case history. The only solid piece of evidence I had to work from. Throughout this entire fiasco, this alone was real. It could have been forged I imagine - but how? My entire life in a cute packet of information. My

history, reduced to this. My life, reduced to this. Black and white, print on a page. Nothing more. Cute, huh? Believe what you see, right?

            Seeing is seldom ever believing in this world. That’s just the screwy way the world works. Life’s the same way. There’s a point you reach where enough’s enough, where the bottom line falls flat. This is that point. I’m sick of fighting someone else’s fights.   

            This one’s mine.

            Who’s left? The axe dropped, the wars waged - and who’s still standing? The gods themselves were taken down by the devastation. When the stars fall and the moon cries, and only the laughter of the garish sun remains - how do you rebuild Elysium? The place of folklore , the heaven of the Romans - legendary fields of vast possibility. And when the dust cleared - paradise was lost. Then again, was it ever truly there to begin with?

            I got up and walked around the empty apartment. Nobody left - only the distant memory of voices echoing from the walls. Tortured screams I could never escape. So lost in fiction, obsessed with the fairy tales of others - I never knew such madness until now. Or if I did, I don’t remember. What a great story to fall back on. Wonderful double-standard; so it goes. All great things are full of complications. That’s the basic risk. Every so often, you’ve just got to jump - head first, no second thoughts.