The cold is unremorseful and harsh, a violent beast that digs into the hearts of all living beings with the intent of tearing them apart. The wind, jagged daggers of invisible ice, skewer the last remaining people that wander the lonely streets underneath the flickering neon lights. The hunched shadows disappear into the encroaching blackness as night suddenly arrives, an inky darkness that pounces upon the world due to the natural lack of a visible sun. Overhead, the clouds, the smog, churn in turmoil, rolling like an upset stomach, rumbling with heavy thunder. Trash flies through the air, empty cans and torn plastic roll along the ground with a loud scraping. A storm is coming, not a natural storm, however. A chilling unease that bends the laws of reality, a prelude, a foreshadow. That Gods above must be sending a warming, a reminder, that the tides of history are on the horizon, that the only thing the weak fellows of the land can do is brace for impact.

Heavy thumps. Disorderly pants. A loud wheezing sound reminiscent of a beaten dog. The hunched shadow scrapes against the wall as it runs through the darkness, mindlessly turning corners, sprinting past danger without thought. Anything. Anything to simply escape the hell, the Past. Eli’s maddened mind direct his feet down a familiar path, uncomprehending in its own influences. It’s the unconscious mind’s duty to protect the host, so the best it can do is exert its influence and find safety. Eli doesn’t care, doesn’t mind, doesn't notice. He simply runs.

Blood streams down his face from when he smashed head first into a wall a few blocks back. The warmth of the blood summons forth the memories, propelling his legs forwards. The scent, thick with iron, floods his senses and conjures the stench of loosened bowls and gushing vigor, of smashed brain matter and stringy intestines. He runs, from his memories, from his regrets, from his responsibilities.

Just as he’s always done.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Stumble...

The sound of a heavy body slamming against the pavement fills the narrow road. Pained grunts echo down the empty streets. Eli’s stifling hot breath steams the air, his heavy panting animalistic and wild, completely unhinged. His eyes reflect insanity, glistening with the unpleasantness of uncomprehending ignorance. On instinct, his body tries to calm itself, only to dry-heave a moment later. Panic overtakes his heart as that familiar sensation of his mind cooling drags forth his incomprehensible acts from mere moments before. Heat. He feels safe in the heat. As such, this ice cold world is nothing but a cage, a place to torture him, a unified front to slow down his mind and draw him back to that inhuman state of absolute calmness.

Never before has Eli loathed his ability. It wasn’t a power he used often. He rarely even thought about it. In all his years of living, he’s only used it a handful of times, each time to satisfy some selfish curiosity of his. This time, however, the single time he uses his power for the sake of someone else, he commits an atrocity impossible to forgive. Impossible… This is impossible…! No! I didn’t do that! It… It wasn’t me…! Denial thrashes like a maddened beast against the confines of his mind, but not even he’s convinced. He obviously knows what he did. He remembers every stray thought he had while in such a state. There was no “influence” directing his actions. It had been him, thinking solely for the sake of solving a single problem, using whatever method he deemed necessary. I-I wasn’t even supposed to do that! There were countless ways to get the guitar back, and yet… why?! He knows why, too. Asking himself questions. Pointlessly evading the reality of his actions. The truth that he willingly and purposely ordered the death of so many people, he refuses to face it.

Obviously there were better ways of getting back the guitar. But there was no avoiding it. The outcome had already been set in stone the instant he laid eyes on Griff's lackeys. To protect Audrey, to protect himself, to protect his future, he needed to foil Griff’s plan. He had seen it. The planning, the mission, the ultimate goal of that madman. The result, the final wish of that psychopath, is ultimately unachievable. Nothing more than a pipe dream. How could he not act? So save the lives of many, by getting rid of the few. A logical choice. Logical, but still immoral.

Another dry heave, followed by the sound of fluids being vomited out. His meager breakfast floods his lips and sprays across the pavement. It’s been hours, almost an entire day since he has last eaten anything. His small stomach aches, yet when he recalls the grisly sight from before, the desire for food evaporates, leaving only pain. He curls up as he flops against the ground, his limp body weak. The cold seeps into his heart, forcibly calming his mind. There’s no way to resist. The feverish fire he’s been stoking within is mercilessly stomped out by sheer exhaustion, leaving only aching embers in the dust. Stillness. Stillness followed by numbness. An icy numbness that digs into his mind, and calls upon the forces of reason.

Take responsibility.

A quiet voice. A familiar voice. A deplorable voice.

There’s no reason to crawl around in the mud, Eli. What if Audrey were to see you now? Hands and knees cut up and bleeding. Whimpering like a beaten dog. She’d lose any respect and gratification this little stunt of yours may have achieved.

The voice mocks him, clearly taking the opportunity to beat him while he’s down, yet strangely reassuring in it's own twisted way.

“No! You’re wrong! I didn’t… I didn’t do that for gratification! Shut up! You just want to… just want to…”

Life seeps from Eli’s eyes as he once again falls into the abyss of confusion. The voices, their motives elude him. They seem to know everything, yet why would they fail to understand his motivations? Why did he even do such things? Yes, he killed those people to save this city, but why did he choose to even look for the guitar in the first place? Why did he go alone? Why didn’t he wait until Audrey calmed down enough to have a conversation with?

Heh, you’re an idiot Eli! You don’t care about anyone, do you? You left mom to die, you know. She must have starved to death by now. You killed all those people without even a hint of empathy. You know there were children in that group right? They could have been reasoned with, and yet, look at that, you were in a hurry and just decided to kill them all! Hahaha, what kind of idiot are you? Seriously, I can’t think of anyone more stupid, more cowardly, more selfish than you!

The strangers voice seems closer than before. Stronger. The man whispers directly into Eli's ear, his breath brushing against his cartilage. The man stinks of alcohol. His voice is aged and weary. His every word seems to be spoken with a sigh, as though he's given up on even trying anymore. His only pleasure seems to come from tapping into Eli's psyche and breaking him down. Bit by bit.

Eli curls up further, the ridiculing, arrogant voice cutting open his skin, prying apart his chest, and stabbing into his heart. His face heats up and his eyes redden, but like an empty sewer, no fluid flows out.

“...”

Haaah...? What's wrong? I’m right aren’t I? You’re a monster. A heartless beast that only preys on others. You never cared about mom. You don't feel the slightest hint of regret leaving her behind. You’re even using Audrey! Following her around like dead weight, being spoon fed like a child. What do you want from her, huh? What are you expecting? Go ahead! Do what you’ve been dreaming about for so many nights! You didn’t care when you killed all those people, so why would you care now?

Indignation.

Rage.

Disgust.

Emotions, completely opposing his state of calmness nearly halt his brain’s functioning. He feels his consciousness short circuit as the unpleasant picture the deplorable voice paints becomes clearer and clearer.

Hatred.

Grief.

Repulsiveness.

He feels every cell within him ignite into a flame of uncontrollable fury. Before he can lash out, however, before he can refute that voice that drips with vile anticipation, he is swept away by that very same voice, only now it’s hollow, completely lacking in that previous playfulness.

Pathetic... What are you getting so worked up over, dumbass? What do you think you’re doing right now? Who do you think you’re talking to? Really, this guy… I can’t even believe this. Imagine, imagine how stupid you must be to not understand what is even happening fight now…

There's a crunch by Eli’s ear, but when he peeks open his eyes to take a look, there’s nothing but gravel and plastic. The voice, still hollow and unamused, whispers into his brain, directly, unrestricted.

I’m you, you know. Everything I say, every future I paint, every desire I have, is one that you have. I am here because of you, dumbass… Look, I’m really kinda sick of this. You want to die, I want to die, let's just kill ourselves and get this over with. There’s countless ways to get this done with, so stand up, let's take a look around.

Defeat. There’s nothing to prevent such overwhelming feelings from suffocating Eli. He knew, he understood that the voices were his own. Yet, he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to understand. Ha… ha ha ha… I’m crazy… I’ve lost it…. Since it is his own subconscious talking to him, naturally that means everything the man said must be true. That’s right, he must not have cared about killing so many people. He must want to rape Audrey. He must want to die. Everything he said must be true, because he was the one that said it.

While digesting such obvious truths, Eli lifts himself from the ground. His clothes are torn, his hands are bloody. Vomit drips from his chin and his eyes are no different from a corpse’s.

“Right… I guess I have to die…”