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English
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Part 4 of The King of Hearts
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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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2,485
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1/1
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10
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The Final Ray of Hope

Summary:

Summary: Remy searches for the light to kill the darkness in his soul.

Work Text:



The Final Ray of Hope
by Kyrri
kyrrissean@hotmail.com

 

Nothingness, oppressing soul-stealing nothingness holds me in its sway. Darkness surrounds me, encompasses and engulfs me, forcing my consciousness into a tiny pinprick of flame in its very center and all the time the voices call to me.

Shouting, screaming, crying out my name mixed with words of ghastly wickedness, choking my being – suffocating me with their very intensity. Trapping me there, binding me and tying me down with chains that no thief could ever hope to escape. Forcing me to live this half-life… caught within a flame.

Forcing me to my knees as they tear away my very sanity, clawing and ripping – rending me helpless and bleeding upon the floor of this miserable void.

No light ever penetrates this place – only the darkness and the voices. Always the voices – screaming in rage and terror and the soft pitter-patter of bare feet… running, forever racing away from the inevitable till they too are silenced with a bloodcurdling scream. Involuntarily my hands rise to my face, cupping my cheeks between them as I realize the cry is my own. My own horror and pain reflected in the high-pitched horrid melody as the scream rises and falls upon the air – ripping the thin fabric of dark reality to shreds.

A strangled sob escapes me, torn away by the eerie melody of a myriad of voices lifted in screeching, painful song. I want to cry out – to shout – to let my voice mingle once again with the others… to silence them with my own horror.

But I can't – silence escapes me as I take one gasping breath after the other, my nails scratching down my cheeks, leaving fiery marks in their wake as the oily darkness rushed down my throat. I can't move, I can't cry out – I can do nothing and the voices berate me for it, whispering their cruel words in my ears, making the trails of fire across my cheeks burn more hotly as they remind me of what I have done. They'll never let me forget!

"I didn't know – I tried – I didn't know!" I repeat to myself, seeking to find the truth in my silent litany, seeking to find escape from the voices that are burning their way into my mind – consuming
me from the inside out.

How desperately I want to escape them, need to escape them – if only for a little while. I want to make them go away, but the fact remains that I cannot – they will haunt me forever in this darkened void. They will always be there reminding me of my failure – I should have tried harder – I should have saved them – it's all my fault.

It's all my fault – the thought echoes back at me, as if across a great distance. Everything is my fault, but I had tried to make it better – I had tried to fight back. I'd managed to save the child,
even if she was only one among many. The only one I had not failed – my only ray of light.

But in this place that light cannot reach me – will not reach me… refused to stretch across the darkness as I bury myself in guilt and self-loathing.

I shiver as the arctic wind surrounds me, raising goose bumps on my flesh and making my breath freeze upon the air before me. I can't see it. The darkness blinds me, steals my sight, but I know it's there. I can feel the ice as though it is touching me – tracing icy patterns across my skin. I can feel it and it seems to burn with some facsimile of life, it seems almost malicious in its imitation.

Death – I can feel it as I take one searing breath after the other – the darkness only serving to make it seem even colder as I pull myself into a small ball and curl up upon this merciless plane of thought. The voices still singing to me – telling me that I have no right to life, telling me that they will welcome me to them soon. Soon there will be nothing left…

The wind chills me to the bone as it plays with my hair, caressing it with something akin to joy – welcoming me to an eternity of icy whiteness whilst my eyes can see only darkening night. Welcoming me to the end of my journey, for surely I would soon join the phantom voices in their dance with the zephyr. And then it would all cease to exist… I'd be free.

Gray… between black and white you find gray… nothing simply crisp or clear – no route that's perfectly right or wrong. No `yes' or `no' – just gray and turmoil. What to do… what to want… what do I deserve?

Night or day? Neither can be considered the right answer, but this…

I fight against the raging cold, trying to shut the voices out, trying desperately to warm my aching bones – I don't want it to end like this! I want to live, to cast aside their justice. Guilty… I know my shame well and they have judged me for my crimes, abandoning me to the frozen wastes. She left me here. They all left me in the end.

"Come back," I plead. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me here." But there is no one to hear the words that are torn from my parched throat even the voices have left me now. Rogue has left me here to die. They have all left me."

I'm falling now – spinning away into unconsciousness – the cold winning this final battle, as I lay shattered upon the icy darkness. As my thoughts shred the final piece of hope in my soul into a million fragments and scatters it upon the arctic wind. "I love you."

But there is no force behind my words, they had been true once, now they only sound empty, hollow to my ears and echoing dimly with something I will never have.

I don't have the energy to fight anymore. I'm tired and alone. Alone in the darkness.

I raise my eyes to what I think is the horizon, but nothing distinguished it form the rest and I cannot be sure. Names, faces, snatches of sentences surrounds me and the laughter. When had it started? I didn't know anymore. It resonated through the air, impious in its clarity and hatred, recalling her face to my mind. She is laughing at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement at my suffering, as I look up at her in silence.

The world expands, changes, twists and turns and I fall forward, my senses wrapped in vicious laughter until everything comes to an immediate stop and I am jerked awake.

I force myself to take deep, slow breaths. And, remembering the burning pain as I raked them with my nails, I gingerly lift my fingers towards my cheeks, brushing over them softly. It had just
been a dream. There were no fiery trails scorching their way down my cheeks. But even as I tell myself that the pain of the scratched marks across my cheeks, had merely been part of the nightmare, I find it hard to believe that I am awake now and that this isn't just more cunning imagery spun by the dream to keep me firmly in its embrace.

Briefly I close my eyes and take another breath. Even my subconscious would not spin this lie. My mind would not imagine the thin trail of sunlight shining from beneath the blinds, nor would it think to bring me to the mansion when it had the slopes of Antarctica to work with for inspiration. A single shiver runs down my spine at the thought – I can imagine far worse things than waking up at the mansion and the truth of that is the only thing that makes me realize that I am truly awake.

Grimly, I peal the sheets away from my body and swing my legs out of bed, groaning as the movement makes my temples throb violently. The room starts spinning, and I silently curse under my breath. This was just lovely.

Ignoring the rapid twirling of all my material possessions I push myself unsteadily to my feet and take a step towards the bathroom. I groan as the world mocks my attempts to set it aright by spinning more chaotically and come to a stop, lifting my hands to my face and closing my eyes against the assault of frenzied colour. This was simply no good – I had to reach that bathroom so that I could wake up enough to go downstairs.

Cautiously, I open my eyes again and let them trail over my surroundings. The door to the bathroom stands open invitingly less than four feet away. Now if only I could cross that distance without having to watch the circular dance of all the inanimate objects in the room.

I let my gaze fall to the floor and grimace. My dirty laundry spread out across the carpet and the broken glass from the mirror I had shattered scattered laying between the fine material. How could I have allowed it to go this far? But my lack of energy answers the question for me – I do not have the will to fight anymore, I don't even have the will to keep my room in good order.

I slowly lift my head and focus on the bathroom door once more. Things have gotten out of hand indeed but it does not matter. I will be leaving this place soon – there is nothing to hold me here, after all. The mansion is no longer my home.

I move into the bathroom, open the faucet and splash water onto my face. This place is just an empty shell – the hope I had felt upon the first day of coming here with Stormy having fled. The hope of being accepted broken and laying in dismal disarray – much like my room at the moment.

The reflection in the mirror calls my gaze upwards as I search out the eyes of my mirror image – as I search for the strangely dancing coals and find instead only the dead bleakness of black ash. Whoever said that ones eyes are the windows to ones soul must have been smarter than he was given credit for – the eyes that stare back at me now reflect every tumultuous fall into depression I have suffered since Antarctica. Every shred of guilt and self-loathing displayed for all to see in the desolation of the once fiery gaze.

I swallow convulsively, trying to get rid of the bitter taste in my mouth – I did not like what I saw. I have the urge to shatter this mirror as I had done with the one in my room, but I stop myself, clenching my fist tightly – I have enough bad luck to deal with as it is.

Resolutely, I turn my back on the mirror, refusing to dwell on what I have just seen reflected there and I strip and climb into the shower. I rest my forehead against cool tiles as the warm water cascades down my back.

I open my eyes again, studying the tiles until a glimmering light just at the edge of my vision draws my attention. I turn my head to the side to better study it and catch my breath at the rainbow of colour presented by the glistening spray – water like tiny teardrops against the tiles reflecting the thin streak of sunlight that penetrates the barrier of the blinds.

I study the thin trail of dancing light, letting the living colour seep into my aching soul as the darkness surrounded me. I had never bothered to turn on a light, my eyes being sharp enough to see in the shadowy room. I stand there staring, not even noticing when the water starts to turn cold as I exhaust the hot-water supply.

But this thin ray valiantly keeping night at bay wasn't enough – it wasn't enough to pull me from my depression. Even in waking the nightmare would not leave me, reminding me of my second exile, my punishment – there was no shining light to help me from the dark maze of my misery – no matter how bright this glistening sun-streak. I was trapped and would remain so – my light – my hope had fled.

And so it was that I climbed out of the shower with a heavy heart, moving like a sleepwalker as I dried myself off and got dressed before exiting my room. I just had the presence of mind to grab my sunglasses off the bedside table before I stepped into the blinding glare of the hallway, slipping them on to guard my sensitive eyes.

The corridor stretched before me, somehow oppressing – the light of day serving only to remind me of what I had lost – serving only to bring visions to my mind of dancing rainbows and an ever-present looming shadow that encased even that small phantom whisper of hope in darkening night.

I didn't even notice as I descended the stairs – didn't take in anything of my surroundings – my mind focused solely on the darkness within my soul. Dazedly I made my way to the kitchen until my mind was suddenly filled with apprehension.

The sent of cigar smoke hung thickly in the air, coming from the kitchen – wafting through the door as I stood on the threshold, frozen – unable to move.

I fought the urge to turn around – I had to face him sooner or later. But what would he think of me after last night? Would he hate me like all the others? Hate me as I hated myself? I closed my eyes – I didn't think I would be able to bear it if Logan joined that list.

But from somewhere in my mind a memory drifts to the surface. Of a tight embrace, of gentle fingers running soothingly up and down my back, caressing my muscles and forcing them to relax, of a whispered promise that meant more than anything ever could. "No, Remy, I could never hate you, never!"

My lips curve into a small smile – the very act of smiling seeming strange because of its recent infrequency. Logan wouldn't hate me for last night's display of weakness in front of the rec room. He wouldn't – he had said so and I trusted him. I was surprised at the thought, but the smile deepened as I realized that it was true. I trusted him.

The sun glittered off my sunglasses, sending reflected rainbows dancing against the wall.

Maybe, just maybe…
 
 

Series TBC

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