Antisepticeye Oneshots

His Escape

A/N: (i just wanna quickly mention that whatever this guy says doesn't represent my beliefs, opinions, etc.)

———

He usually forgot about the strange stories and memories that formed in his mind. After all this time, he could never remember it all. Images and colours blurred and clumped together into an ugly, incoherent amalgamation. They were like dreams that he knew he had, but could only remember bits and pieces.

There was one that stuck out, though. Another memory. Blurry and colourless, but this time he could understand what he was seeing and hearing. This wasn't some bland memory from childhood, but one of his last memories he had ever formed before becoming imprisoned here.

Sean was there—but everyone called him Jack—of course. Chase was there too, but he intentionally stayed in the background. He didn't want to be involved in the fight.

Why were they fighting, again? He couldn't remember. He forgot even who started it. But he was arguing with Jack. It was one of the first times he saw Jack this angry. Angry, but also scared. Underneath his cloak of confidence, fear resided in his eyes. He hated seeing him scared, but in this moment, he couldn't help but feel empowered at how weak Jack was.

He loved imagining that Jack was afraid of him.

The fight was never resolved. That night, nobody spoke. The house was silent and cold, although it didn't remain that way the whole night.

The fire was the most vivid, colourful part of the memory. He had woken up from the smoke and the heat, and flames covered his vision. Parts of the house were breaking off from the wreckage. Jack and Chase were nowhere to be seen. That fire and the destruction that ensued was the last memory he had of his past life.

For a long time he thought he had died. He couldn't remember dying, but maybe that was the whole point. He thought he burned like the house did and this limbo state was life after death. He thought he would be here for eternity.

He thought, but never knew for sure.

This memory, though, it made him beg the question: how did the fire start in the first place? And, more importantly, why did Jack not save him?

He wrapped his arms around his chest as the questions swirled through his head, again and again. The answers were there, but he never thought about it deeply. He had all the time in the world and his mind blocked off this memory for years, because he refused to accept the answer. Jack was his best friend, and there was not a day he had lived where that wasn't the truth. Until now.

Jack started the fire himself.

Admitting it felt... right. He was right. That was why Jack didn't even try to save him. They fought (although for the life of him, he couldn't remember why), Jack got angry, and he made the rash decision to get rid of him. Forever.

He pushed out a breath, hot air leaving his lungs. He was on his feet in moments, feeling the overwhelming urge to move. There was nothing to do, but he could not stay still. He was trembling, walking in circles͞

The light caught his eye and blinded him for a moment. He had forgotten about the crack. Days must have passed, or it at least felt like it had been that long. In a fit of anger, he pounded his fists against it once. He pressed his ear to the wall, listening for anything that could be outside. There were no sounds and he got impatient. So he hit it again, slammed his shoulder against it and scraped his nails on it, but the wall felt indestructible.

Ṱ̶̩͙̱͙͚͖͝ḫe̵̴͍ŕ̥̹̣̕͢e̸͕̤̻̲̱̕ ̠̤͙̗̼͔̝͔͟

There were moments where he would completely give up. Sometimes they were short, just taking a break for a minute to catch his energy. Other times they were long. Days, weeks, however fucking long it was. He would not move, refused to. Pretended like he could close his eyes and he would not exist anymore. This hell didn't exist. He was gone. His mind stopped, and he stopped thinking. But the only thing he could do was thi҉n̸͢k

He screamed, his mind never shifting from his last moment with Jack. Those terrified blue eyes. He would make him that terrified again. He realized he never cared that he was yelling at his best friend. Friends were temporary. There were there to help you get to the top.

His nerves shook and his bones ached beneath the sickly pale skin of his body. It hurt like hell. There was a dull ache that remained, even after he grew too weak to go on. He loathed every moment he was here. But he wouldn't let himself stop. He wouldn't let himself sleep until something happened. If he gave up, he swore he would go insane.

Like he wasn't already.

t̕h͡i̵nk̢̀. Just do it. Just remember. Chase, with his grey cap and grey eyes, playing with his hoodie strings in the corner, hoping with that he would just be forgotten about. Some video game was still on behind Jack, waiting for input. The bastard himself was doing that thing he always did, where he would talk and patronize as if he did no wrong.

He wracked his brain, trying to force himself to remember. They were at home, but not the one that burned down. Jack's house, they called it. Mom and Dad weren't in the house, it was just the three of them. Jack's siblings were out too. Everyone was gone for a reason, he knew.

There was something

sp̕͡ȩ̵c̵͠į͝a̸l͜

happening tomorrow

but he wasn't there

to see it.

Tomorrow was the only day he was looking forward to. His chance. His time to shine. For once, he wouldn't be in the background. There would be balloons, songs, a cake, just for him. His family would be there only for him, not

j̶̨ą̀c͜k͝

His day. His life. His body. Everything would finally be his own.

The day they fought was the day he died. He never experienced his happiness.

But today, the day he escaped, was the day he was finally born. Reborn.

Hands bloody, eyes dark, mind filled with nothing but

red̡ ̧ ͜ ̸.͠

The wall broke with a crash. He crossed the line between the void and the light and he felt his whole body transform. After a lifetime of questioning and fighting against the prison and asking 'why him?' it finally clicked.

And he knew one thing for certain: this was his time to live.