#mini-series

Months.

It had been months, since he abstracted. Nothing but time to himself to rot inside his warped psyche. Nothing but the hum of a dim pink streetlight and a pitch black floor of tears to keep him company. He had no concept of the digital world outside of his abstracted body, keeping himself only slightly less locked away than he had after Pomni somehow found him. Broke through nearly all his defenses. Saw him in a way no one else had in years.

No one since her.

You get used to the silence in a way, like a prisoner in solitary confinement, unaware of how much time has passed or what the world outside of that room looked like. Felt like. The idea of moving forward feels impossible once you sink into that pit. Is it even possible to come back? How was it that Pomni was able to see him one last time? Why wasn't anyone trying to figure it out?

He didn't want them to. It's easier to hide away from the pain, the reality of who you are and what you've done. The longer he swims in this eternal sadness, the same he'd been wading through most of his life, the better it was for everyone else. All he wanted was to be at peace; even if it was at the expense of those around him (not that he would let himself see that for what it really was).

Like a stone in the forest, growing damp and cold, covered in moss and fungus, he would let himself slowly wither away, just like those he'd scorned before him. Hell knows it's what he deserved.