HATE. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT HATE.

As the final dregs of your fear leak away from your mind, your body, your soul… you don’t understand why, but you still feel horrible. 

It’s been building, bit by bit, as you traveled through a labyrinth composed of your own emotions with the Builder himself as your sole companion. A festering, mangled feeling, like your heart is tearing itself into pieces and then tying those pieces into countless, impossibly tight knots. 

A hand presses to your chest, your face contorting in pain. Why? Why does it hurt so much? Are you having a heart attack? Are you dying?

A firm hand rests on your shoulder, startling you. “I’m proud of you, Hero. You did it.”

Right. It’s over.

Isn’t it?

Then why do you feel so..?

“You got rid of all of those little obstacles in our way.” 

Obstacles..? Emotions aren’t…

His grip on your shoulder turns into more of a vise, digging his nails into your flesh.

It hurts. “You got rid of everything keeping you from being perfect.” He emphasizes the final word in his statement in a tone of voice not unlike a snarl, endless malice dripping from it. 

A deep, horrible, burning sensation creeps out from where his fingers dig into your shoulder. You can’t move. You can’t stop shaking. You can’t breathe. You can’t. You.

“All that’s left to be done now… is to let me in.” 

Your mouth is dry. Your eyes won’t focus. 

He glances at your face, circling around to be in front of you without letting go.

“...you can at least do that, can’t you, Hero?” His tone is sickeningly sweet, a mockery of the helpful, kind man he had been pretending to be before. “Don’t tell me you’re still too weak even with those pesky emotions of yours out of the way. We can’t have that, now, can we?”

You shakily extend the fingers out of one of your hands, tuck in your thumb, close your fingers over it, and extend them again. The gesture catches his eye, making him laugh.

“Help? You want help?”

He leans in close, hissing in your ear.

“There’s nothing left to help you in here.” He pulls away, giving a condescending grin. “Just us. Just me.”

His hand leaves your shoulder. The pain remains. He moves to stand across from you, hands folded behind his back. 

“But I can see you’re not convinced yet. So let’s change that. Shall we?” His head tilts ever so slightly to the side. 

“In your current state… in order to wield the Ghostwalker… you’ve been made clean. Clear. Open.”

His smile widens. Were his eyes always so red?

“Weak.”

Each syllable feels like a nail being driven through your skull.

“Corruptible.”

His figure warps like a mirage. He’s larger than he was seconds ago. Looming.

“Defenseless.”

He’s more like a silhouette than a man. Pale, pulsating with pure hatred.

“Exposed.”

You can see his heart over his chest. It’s beating in sync with yours.

“Susceptible.”

It breaks in two. A wicked, devilish tail curls out from behind him.

“Vulnerable.”

You’re burning up. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“You’re finally,” he laughs, “all,” he looks down on you, “MINE.”

The sheer weight of his hatred is nauseating. It feels like your eyes are being held open, like you’re being forced to see what your god has become. One has to wonder… is this your fault? Should you have ever gone on this journey?

Did he ever really need to be saved?

Was this a mistake?

let me in

Is the King okay? You saw him melt. Did you kill him?

Let me in

And… and Brad. Will he recover from that? Will he die?

Let Me in

Do they hate you?

Let Me In

Do you hate them?

LEt Me In

Do you hate yourself?

LET Me In

Do you hate?

LET ME In

Do you HATE?

LET ME IN

You can’t…

LET ME IN

You…

LET ME IN

It’s… it’s so… hard to…

LET ME IN

…think…

L E T  M E  I N