#plot masterpost

Plot Masterpost (In order)

This house says my name like an elegy, oh my, oh my Echoing where my ghosts all used to be, oh my, oh my There's still cobwebs in the corner And the backyard's full of bones

Intro

Hearing Voices

Echo Chamber

Crossing the River

Funeral For a Forgotten Friend

And So it Begins...

The First Step is the Hardest

Our Story So Far

Out of the Frying Pan...

   -  Barrel's Aside

It didn’t compute in his head. Negative Nineteen was…dead? Fifty couldn’t process this. He was set to overload. The world spun and went dark, and the next thing he knew, he was back in the Dark Room. Phobia was there, sitting across from him with his little gray hoodie and white smile.

“HI FIFTY. READY TO PLAY?”

He vaguely recalled that playing had not been his intention. But then, what had? His memory was blank, he didn’t recall anything at all. Well, nothing but a sense of urgency. There was something…something he couldn’t deal with. It felt like Antic was gnawing at his mind again.

“Phobia…you’re keeping something from me.” He held up a hand as the child-shadow began to protest. “Don’t lie to me, Phobia. I need to know. You’re messing with my head, you’re hiding things from me. I’ve had this feeling before… It’s what Antic keeps trying to tell me. ‘Look closer, look closer. There’s something you’re missing.’”

“I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T LISTEN TO ANTIC,” Phobia pouted. “YOU SAID IT YOURSELF. HE’S NO GOOD, HE’S THE ONE WHO SHOWS YOU ALL THOSE BAD THINGS. THAT’S WHY I’M HERE. I DON’T LET THE BAD THINGS HURT YOU.”

“I know that, but…I’m starting to think that’s the reason I should listen to him.”

Phobia just stared. Well, he didn’t have eyes, but Fifty could feel him doing the stare anyway. It was just one of those whispers in the back of your head that told you when someone was doing something, such as staring. Finally, Phobia tipped his head down and sighed.

“FIFTY…THE REASON YOU CREATED ME…WAS SO YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO ANTIC.”

“Quite true.”

Fifty turned, the sinking feeling filling his stomach. Antic was indeed there, almost blended into the Dark Room, since he was black as well. Why did he even dream up this form for Antic? It was so…boring. Then again, the grins scared him, and that was probably the main reason.

“What are you doing here?” he asked flatly, narrowing his eyes. “Go away. I don’t want to deal with you right now.”

“You want Phobia to tell you everything, right?” Antic purred. “I can help with that. I know everything Phobia knows, including how to get your memories back. Even the ones you oh-so-tragically lost not even five minutes ago.”

“IT’S NO FAIR IF YOU TELL HIM,” Phobia whined from behind Fifty. “YOU KNOW THE FAIL-SAFE IS THE ONLY WAY TO RELEASE EVERYTHING.”

“Yes, I know.”

All of this flew right over Fifty’s head. “W-wait, slow down!” he cried. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Fail-safe?? There’s something besides Phobia keeping my memories back??”

“WELL, YES, BUT—”

Fifty grabbed Phobia by the neck of his hoodie, yanking him off the ground. “Tell me!! I’m getting desperate!”

Antic, unbeknownst to Fifty, had slithered up behind him. “The only way your memories will come back,” he purred, resting one clawed hand on his shoulder, “is if you kill Phobia.”

Fifty dropped the child-shadow in surprise, stepping back in alarm. There was a knife in his hand. Where had that come from? His breath hitched in his throat, he shook his head.

“I’m not going to kill my friend.”

Antic laughed. “Why not? You’ve done it before.”

>>Part Two

Fifty dropped the knife in shock. What was Antic implying? That he’d…killed someone before? That he’d done wrong? Why would he forget that…why would he choose not to remember? What could he have done to prompt Phobia to shield him as such? Something terrible, something so bad, something that triggered so much guilt, that he would most definitely die if he were to ever think about it again.

“A-Antic…I don’t understand,” Fifty replied, turning slightly, looking over to the shapeless black shadow. “I’ve…killed someone…before…? A…friend…?”

“What did you expect?” the shadow purred, coming up right behind him. Antic bent over Fifty’s shoulder, creepy white mouth just inches from his ear.“You may not have stabbed her with a knife, but her blood is on your hands nonetheless. It’s your fault, it’s always been your fault. Twenty-six, Negative Nineteen… It’s all because of you.”

“B-but I don’t—”

“ANTIC THAT’S ENOUGH,” Phobia snarled, appearing next to Fifty. He barely reached the elder’s waist, let alone Antic’s six-foot stature. “IF YOU SAY ANY MORE, YOU’RE GOING TO BREAK THE FAIL-SAFE. HE WON’T BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT.”

A sneer crept onto Antic’s face. He knew very well he would break the fail-safe if he continued. “Yes, Phobia. However, I have some bad news for you.” The claws separated with a shink. “Playtime’s over. It’s time to grow up.”

“ANTIC NO—”

He was fast. The razor-edged shadows sliced into Phobia like a hot butter through knife, renting deep gashes in his light gray hoodie. What came out wasn’t red, but instead white. Phobia bled white. Pure white. Blinding white. Innocent white.

And he was dead.

>>Part Three

Phobia’s sudden death set off a chain reaction. Fifty didn’t have time to prepare for anything. It moved too fast for him to keep up. He was still trying to process what had happened behind his back when Antic stuck his claws through Fifty’s chest.

It might not have been real, but it sure as hell felt it. Fifty choked, looking down at the hand sticking right through his chest. “A-Antic… A-are you trying to…kill me…?”

“No, Fifty. I’m trying to break you.”

»He was six years old, and he was alone in the bathroom crying. No one liked him. Of course, why should they? Fifty knew he was weak, and he cried a lot, and he didn’t have any friends… why would anyone, in their right mind, want to be friends with him?

They wouldn’t.

Right.

He was alone.

“HI!”

Or was he? Fifty turned around, sniffing, trying to make out a figure through the tears. The other boy was strange. He had dark gray skin and light gray hair and the only thing on his face was a white smile. Fifty probably should’ve been scared of him, but he wasn’t, for some reason or another.

“W-who’re y-you?” he sniffed. “A-are y-you here to make f-fun o-of me too??”

The other laughed, shaking his head. “OF COURSE NOT! I’M HERE TO HELP YOU! I’M GONNA BE YOUR BEST FRIEND, FIFTY! I PROMISE.”

“I-I’ve…never had a-a…friend before…”

The shadow, for Fifty had decided it was indeed a shadow-being, smiled at him, offering a hand. “FRIENDS ARE AWESOME.”«

The flashback ended when Antic twisted his hand. Fifty cried out in pain, and was swallowed by another image from the past.

»“Hey, wait for me!”

Fifty didn’t know why Twenty-six was leaving without him. He always walked her home. Every day, since the day they met. He didn’t care that it meant he had to go out of his way, and he wouldn’t get back to his own home until late at night. She was his friend, his only real friend, and he would die for her.

She turned, an odd expression crossed her face. “Oh, it’s you.”

Something in her tone made him stop. It was as if…she was angry. But…angry why? Why would she be mad? What had he done?

“I thought you were leaving without me for a second.”

“…We were.”

His smile faltered. She was cold, her stare was like a dagger stabbing him right in the chest. “…But…I…I’ve always walked you home.”

“Right. So, what’s one day that I just go with Seventeen?”

Fifty saw the reason in her statement, but his stupid mentality was taking control of his actions. “O-oh…w-well…if you don’t want me to, then…I guess… I-it’s okay if you don’t…um…nevermind…” She hates me, I just know it. She really hates me. Of course she does, everyone does.

“It’s not your fault or anything, you’re just clingy.”

He looked up. “Y-you…think I’m clingy…?”

She shifted uneasily. “Well…yeah.”

“…I-is that what you really think about me, Twenty-six?”

Her eyes flashed and narrowed. “Yes! Get over yourself or you’re gonna start crying again. God, really… You can be so annoying at times. You overreact to everything, Fifty!”

He was upset. “F-fine! I won’t walk home with you then! I hope I never talk to you again!!” He turned on his heel and steamed off, trying to stop crying his eyes out, but he couldn’t. Phobia floated by his side, unseen to everyone.

“DON’T BE UPSET, FIFTY!” the shadow encouraged. “FRIENDS FIGHT SOMETIMES. YOU CAN MAKE IT UP TO HER TOMORROW, IT’S OKAY.”

She drowned not two hours later.«

>>Part Four

The flashback ended and Fifty found himself on the ground, breathless, shaking, and crying his eyes out. Antic loomed over him, a sneer on that black face of his.

“Do you see now, Fifty?” Antic asked, leaning down to “eye”-level. “Your words are poison. Twenty-six is dead because you didn’t walk with her, keep her from walking across that pond. She’s dead because you were selfish and weak. The last thing you told her was that you hated her, that you never wanted to see her again. And look, you got your wish! So stop crying. This is what you wanted.”

“N-no i-it i-isn’t,” he sniffed. “S-she was my f-friend…”

“You heard her, clear as day. She was no friend of yours.”

“SHUT UP SHE WAS MY FRIEND!!”

Antic laughed. “And so was Negative Nineteen, yes? Didn’t he make a promise to you? Tell me, what was that promise.”

Fifty pushed himself into a sitting position, still shaking violently. “H-he said…he said he w-would come visit m-me w-when he got his s-sight back…”

“So where is he now?” Antic made a big show of looking around, faking surprise when Negative Nineteen wasn’t in sight. “Oh, right, not here. He’s dead. He’s dead because you couldn’t help him. Because you screwed up. Because you’re weak.”

Fifty choked on his tears. He knew everything was his fault. He remembered everything. Twenty-six, Negative Nineteen…it was all his fault. He was useless and pathetic and his inability to protect his friends had caused them harm. He couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t protect anyone. He couldn’t even protect himself. He relied on Phobia to keep the bad things away. And now Phobia was dead as well.

Fifty had no one.

Not anymore.

“Everything…e-everything is my f-fault…i-it’s always been my f-fault…i-it’s always gonna be my f-fault…”

“Much better,” Antic purred with a smile. “Now, be a good boy and play dead. Or better, actually be dead!”

Fifty blinked and the black room was gone. Instead, everything was white. He was confused. What was going on? Was he dying? Oh good he was dying. That was a relief at least. Dying would be really nice right about now.

“NO, SILLY, YOU’RE NOT DYING.”

Fifty twisted, not having the strength to stand up. Sure enough, it was indeed Phobia standing behind him, a big grin plastered on his dark gray face. Hadn’t he…died…?

“W-wha—”

Phobia shook his head. “YOU’RE NOT DYING…BUT I AM. YOU DON’T NEED ME ANYMORE, FIFTY. YOU’VE GROWN UP NOW. YOU HAVE TO LEARN TO DEAL WITH THINGS ON YOUR OWN.”

Fifty was in violent disagreement. Phobia was missing the bigger picture… This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t…this wasn’t right…

“Phobia, you don’t understand… I created you because I couldn’t do this. Because I didn’t know how to deal with things like this! How am I supposed to accept it…if you’re not here to help me?” He had to pause to wipe away his tears before he could continue. “You were my friend, Phobia… You were there for me when no one else was! I’ve lost everything, don’t you see? Twenty-six… Negative Nineteen… and now you. They’re dead, all dead, because of me. Because I’m weak. PLEASE, PHOBIA!! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE TOO! YOU WERE THE ONLY ONE WHO BELIEVED IN ME. YOU TAUGHT ME THAT I HAD A PURPOSE. I’D BE DEAD IF IT WASN’T FOR YOU. PHOBIA, PLEASE, COME BACK… I CAN’T DO THIS ALONE, I CAN’T!!”

Phobia only smiled. “YOU CAN DO IT. YOU JUST DON’T REALIZE IT YET. FIND SOME COURAGE AND HANG ONTO IT. YOU’LL DO GREAT. I’LL BE WATCHING, BUT YOU’RE NOT GONNA SEE ME AGAIN. YOU’VE DONE SO WELL, FIFTY. I’M REALLY PROUD OF YOU. BUT…IT’S TIME FOR YOUR IMAGINARY FRIENDS TO MOVE ON. YOU DON’T NEED US. THAT BEING SAID, I’M STILL THE BETTER GO FISH PLAYER. THE SCORE’S SEVENTY-ONE TO ZIP, FIFTY. BETTER PUT YOUR GAME FACE ON. CATCH YA ON THE FLIPSIDE!!”

Fifty opened his eyes and he found himself on the floor. A real floor, a wooden one. He was home still. Of course he was home, the dark room was only in his mind…he hallucinated seeing Phobia and Antic in the real world. They weren’t real.

But they were dead.

Because of him.

Everything came flooding back. He let out a choked sob, rolling over onto his stomach. Everything hurt. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Everything hurt because it was all his fault. Fifty wanted nothing more to just lay there. He couldn’t deal with this. He didn’t know how. He didn’t—

He would need time. A lot of time. He knew that, at least.

If eternity was even long enough.

((Dramatic reading by me))

>>Part Five

It took a long time for Fifty to learn how to cope with himself now that Phobia and Antic were gone forever. Because he had been avoiding everything, he really did not know how to react to the emotions he was experiencing. Because he shut himself away from practically all human contact, he didn’t know how others dealt with things, and had to develop his own ways of surviving. He forgot everything around him while he drowned in himself. There was nothing but pain.

When he finally got air, his head cleared. There was something he was forgetting. Something important. Someone important. Fifty-five. He realized he hadn’t talked to her in weeks. He’d been too busy selfishly wallowing in despair. He had to talk to her, she had to know he was okay. He forced himself into the City, now more afraid of the walls then anything. He wove his way through the streets like a bandit, keeping out of the light. If no one saw him, no one would question him. Good.

He still had the key in his pocket, but he knocked several times first. She’d given him the spare for when he ran over during the night to help with the nightmares. Still, he regretted using it if he wasn’t expected. She could be indecent, and it would be rude to barge in. So he waited until he was sure she wasn’t coming to the door before unlocking it and slipping inside.

“Fifty-five?” he called. There were no lights on, and the house was deathly quiet. This wasn’t like her at all. “Maybe she’s not home,” he murmured aloud, closing the door behind him. “Fifty-five, I…I’m sorry I haven’t been talking to you, I mean…if you can hear me or anything. Oh wait maybe you’re upstairs. Oops s-sorry I didn’t mean to raise my voice I hope I didn’t wake you or anything.” He put a hand over his mouth. “No shh stop talking you’re making it worse,” he hissed under his breath. “She’s probably asleep.”

He crept up the stairs, peering into her room. She wasn’t there. He looked in all the upstairs rooms, but she was nowhere in sight. Now he was worried. Where could she have gone? Had she gone out maybe? That was probably it. He nodded, smiling to himself. She went out. Yeah. She would be back soon, and then he could apologize. That’s all he wanted. Just to make sure she knew it wasn’t her fault. He had just…needed to deal with a few things. Put in a better mood, he rounded the corner to the kitchen, flipping the light on.

If the world had been a pane of glass, it would have shattered. And not “shattered” as in a couple big pieces falling to the floor to be picked up and pieced back together. “Shattered” as in millions upon millions of tiny little razor fragments, and every one of them dove right into his heart. Fifty was in literal shock. He couldn’t comprehend the scene. Something red and sticky, someone lying on the floor, a knife buried in the flesh that had once held life now turned stone-cold.

“H-hey…h-hey, i-i-it’s not safe to sleep down th-ere,” he said, kneeling down beside her. He reached out, pushing her arm lightly. She didn’t move. “Haha, v-very f-f-funny…prank’s over, y-you can get up n-ow…”

If he was expecting her to sit up and smile and laugh and wrap him in a hug and tell him it was only a joke and that she was sorry, he wasn’t sure. He wanted that though. If this wasn’t a joke…no, it had to be. She was pulling a joke on him to get back at him for disappearing.

Fifty gave another choked laugh. He could feel the tears starting. “Th-this isn’t f-funny, Fifty-f-five,” he said, reaching out again. “L-look, y-you slept out h-ere and n-ow y-you’re c-old. Th-that’s w-wh-at you get f-for not using a blan-ket. D-don’t you know th-at?” The sadness turned to anger as she still didn’t respond to him. “I-I s-sai-d this w-wasn’t funny,” he repeated. “S-say someth-thing! Don’t y-you f-feel bad f-for m-making me cr-y?”

Still nothing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Fifty had acknowledged she was gone, that she couldn’t hear him anymore, but he wasn’t ready to face that. He wasn’t ready to face anything. Twenty-six and Negative Nineteen still hung heavy over him. If he admitted the last person he could call friend was dead, he would die. He would wither up and let himself die. Because everyone he touched died too. He was a danger, a disease, a threat. If someone came too close, they would die. Because they always did.