((Update Masterpost just because I can. //rolls))
It didnât compute in his head. Negative Nineteen wasâŠdead? Fifty couldnât 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.
âHI FIFTY. READY TO PLAY?â
He vaguely recalled that playing had not been his intention. But then, what had? His memory was blank, he didnât recall anything at all. Well, nothing but a sense of urgency. There was somethingâŠsomething he couldnât deal with. It felt like Antic was gnawing at his mind again.
âPhobiaâŠyouâre keeping something from me.â He held up a hand as the child-shadow began to protest. âDonât lie to me, Phobia. I need to know. Youâre messing with my head, youâre hiding things from me. Iâve had this feeling before⊠Itâs what Antic keeps trying to tell me. âLook closer, look closer. Thereâs something youâre missing.ââ
âI THOUGHT YOU DIDNâT LISTEN TO ANTIC,â Phobia pouted. âYOU SAID IT YOURSELF. HEâS NO GOOD, HEâS THE ONE WHO SHOWS YOU ALL THOSE BAD THINGS. THATâS WHY IâM HERE. I DONâT LET THE BAD THINGS HURT YOU.â
âI know that, butâŠIâm starting to think thatâs the reason I should listen to him.â
Phobia just stared. Well, he didnât 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.
âFIFTYâŠTHE REASON YOU CREATED MEâŠWAS SO YOU DIDNâT HAVE TO LISTEN TO ANTIC.â
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 soâŠboring. Then again, the grins scared him, and that was probably the main reason.
âWhat are you doing here?â he asked flatly, narrowing his eyes. âGo away. I donât want to deal with you right now.â
âYou want Phobia to tell you everything, right?â Antic purred. âI 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.â
âITâS NO FAIR IF YOU TELL HIM,â Phobia whined from behind Fifty. âYOU KNOW THE FAIL-SAFE IS THE ONLY WAY TO RELEASE EVERYTHING.â
All of this flew right over Fiftyâs head. âW-wait, slow down!â he cried. âI donât understand what youâre saying. Fail-safe?? Thereâs something besides Phobia keeping my memories back??â
Fifty grabbed Phobia by the neck of his hoodie, yanking him off the ground. âTell me!! Iâm getting desperate!â
Antic, unbeknownst to Fifty, had slithered up behind him. âThe only way your memories will come back,â he purred, resting one clawed hand on his shoulder, âis if you kill Phobia.â
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.
âIâm not going to kill my friend.â
Antic laughed. âWhy not? Youâve done it before.â
Fifty dropped the knife in shock. What was Antic implying? That heâdâŠkilled someone before? That heâd done wrong? Why would he forget thatâŠwhy 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.
âA-AnticâŠI donât understand,â Fifty replied, turning slightly, looking over to the shapeless black shadow. âIâveâŠkilled someoneâŠbeforeâŠ? AâŠfriendâŠ?â
âWhat did you expect?â the shadow purred, coming up right behind him. Antic bent over Fiftyâs shoulder, creepy white mouth just inches from his ear.âYou may not have stabbed her with a knife, but her blood is on your hands nonetheless. Itâs your fault, itâs always been your fault. Twenty-six, Negative Nineteen⊠Itâs all because of you.â
âANTIC THATâS ENOUGH,â Phobia snarled, appearing next to Fifty. He barely reached the elderâs waist, let alone Anticâs six-foot stature. âIF YOU SAY ANY MORE, YOUâRE GOING TO BREAK THE FAIL-SAFE. HE WONâT BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT.â
A sneer crept onto Anticâs face. He knew very well he would break the fail-safe if he continued. âYes, Phobia. However, I have some bad news for you.â The claws separated with a shink. âPlaytimeâs over. Itâs time to grow up.â
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 wasnât red, but instead white. Phobia bled white. Pure white. Blinding white. Innocent white.
Phobiaâs sudden death set off a chain reaction. Fifty didnât 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 Fiftyâs 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. âA-Antic⊠A-are you trying toâŠkill meâŠ?â
âNo, Fifty. Iâm trying to break you.â
»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 didnât have any friends⊠why would anyone, in their right mind, want to be friends with him?
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 shouldâve been scared of him, but he wasnât, for some reason or another.
âW-whoâre y-you?â he sniffed. âA-are y-you here to make f-fun o-of me too??â
The other laughed, shaking his head. âOF COURSE NOT! IâM HERE TO HELP YOU! IâM GONNA BE YOUR BEST FRIEND, FIFTY! I PROMISE.â
âI-IâveâŠnever had a-aâŠfriend beforeâŠâ
The shadow, for Fifty had decided it was indeed a shadow-being, smiled at him, offering a hand. âFRIENDS ARE AWESOME.â«
The flashback ended when Antic twisted his hand. Fifty cried out in pain, and was swallowed by another image from the past.
»âHey, wait for me!â
Fifty didnât know why Twenty-six was leaving without him. He always walked her home. Every day, since the day they met. He didnât care that it meant he had to go out of his way, and he wouldnât 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. âOh, itâs you.â
Something in her tone made him stop. It was as ifâŠshe was angry. ButâŠangry why? Why would she be mad? What had he done?
âI thought you were leaving without me for a second.â
His smile faltered. She was cold, her stare was like a dagger stabbing him right in the chest. ââŠButâŠIâŠIâve always walked you home.â
âRight. So, whatâs one day that I just go with Seventeen?â
Fifty saw the reason in her statement, but his stupid mentality was taking control of his actions. âO-ohâŠw-wellâŠif you donât want me to, thenâŠI guess⊠I-itâs okay if you donâtâŠumâŠnevermindâŠâ She hates me, I just know it. She really hates me. Of course she does, everyone does.
âItâs not your fault or anything, youâre just clingy.â
He looked up. âY-youâŠthink Iâm clingyâŠ?â
She shifted uneasily. âWellâŠyeah.â
ââŠI-is that what you really think about me, Twenty-six?â
Her eyes flashed and narrowed. âYes! Get over yourself or youâre gonna start crying again. God, really⊠You can be so annoying at times. You overreact to everything, Fifty!â
He was upset. âF-fine! I wonât walk home with you then! I hope I never talk to you again!!â He turned on his heel and steamed off, trying to stop crying his eyes out, but he couldnât. Phobia floated by his side, unseen to everyone.
âDONâT BE UPSET, FIFTY!â the shadow encouraged. âFRIENDS FIGHT SOMETIMES. YOU CAN MAKE IT UP TO HER TOMORROW, ITâS OKAY.â
She drowned not two hours later.«
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.
âDo you see now, Fifty?â Antic asked, leaning down to âeyeâ-level. âYour words are poison. Twenty-six is dead because you didnât walk with her, keep her from walking across that pond. Sheâs 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.â
âN-no i-it i-isnât,â he sniffed. âS-she was my f-friendâŠâ
âYou heard her, clear as day. She was no friend of yours.â
âSHUT UP SHE WAS MY FRIEND!!â
Antic laughed. âAnd so was Negative Nineteen, yes? Didnât he make a promise to you? Tell me, what was that promise.â
Fifty pushed himself into a sitting position, still shaking violently. âH-he saidâŠhe said he w-would come visit m-me w-when he got his s-sight backâŠâ
âSo where is he now?â Antic made a big show of looking around, faking surprise when Negative Nineteen wasnât in sight. âOh, right, not here. Heâs dead. Heâs dead because you couldnât help him. Because you screwed up. Because youâre weak.â
Fifty choked on his tears. He knew everything was his fault. He remembered everything. Twenty-six, Negative NineteenâŠit was all his fault. He was useless and pathetic and his inability to protect his friends had caused them harm. He couldnât protect them. He couldnât protect anyone. He couldnât even protect himself. He relied on Phobia to keep the bad things away. And now Phobia was dead as well.
âEverythingâŠe-everything is my f-faultâŠi-itâs always been my f-faultâŠi-itâs always gonna be my f-faultâŠâ
âMuch better,â Antic purred with a smile. âNow, be a good boy and play dead. Or better, actually be dead!â
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.
âNO, SILLY, YOUâRE NOT DYING.â
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. Hadnât heâŠdiedâŠ?
Phobia shook his head. âYOUâRE NOT DYINGâŠBUT I AM. YOU DONâT NEED ME ANYMORE, FIFTY. YOUâVE GROWN UP NOW. YOU HAVE TO LEARN TO DEAL WITH THINGS ON YOUR OWN.â
Fifty was in violent disagreement. Phobia was missing the bigger picture⊠This wasnât how it was supposed to go. This wasnât supposed to happen. This wasnâtâŠthis wasnât rightâŠ
âPhobia, you donât understand⊠I created you because I couldnât do this. Because I didnât know how to deal with things like this! How am I supposed to accept itâŠif youâre not here to help me?â He had to pause to wipe away his tears before he could continue. âYou were my friend, Phobia⊠You were there for me when no one else was! Iâve lost everything, donât you see? Twenty-six⊠Negative Nineteen⊠and now you. Theyâre dead, all dead, because of me. Because Iâm weak. PLEASE, PHOBIA!! DONâT LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE TOO! YOU WERE THE ONLY ONE WHO BELIEVED IN ME. YOU TAUGHT ME THAT I HAD A PURPOSE. IâD BE DEAD IF IT WASNâT FOR YOU. PHOBIA, PLEASE, COME BACK⊠I CANâT DO THIS ALONE, I CANâT!!â
Phobia only smiled. âYOU CAN DO IT. YOU JUST DONâT REALIZE IT YET. FIND SOME COURAGE AND HANG ONTO IT. YOUâLL DO GREAT. IâLL BE WATCHING, BUT YOUâRE NOT GONNA SEE ME AGAIN. YOUâVE DONE SO WELL, FIFTY. IâM REALLY PROUD OF YOU. BUTâŠITâS TIME FOR YOUR IMAGINARY FRIENDS TO MOVE ON. YOU DONâT NEED US. THAT BEING SAID, IâM STILL THE BETTER GO FISH PLAYER. THE SCOREâS SEVENTY-ONE TO ZIP, FIFTY. BETTER PUT YOUR GAME FACE ON. CATCH YA ON THE FLIPSIDE!!â
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 mindâŠhe hallucinated seeing Phobia and Antic in the real world. They werenât real.
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 couldnât deal with this. He didnât know how. He didnâtâ
He would need time. A lot of time. He knew that, at least.
If eternity was even long enough.
((Dramatic reading by me))
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 didnât 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 hadnât talked to her in weeks. Heâd 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. Sheâd given him the spare for when he ran over during the night to help with the nightmares. Still, he regretted using it if he wasnât expected. She could be indecent, and it would be rude to barge in. So he waited until he was sure she wasnât coming to the door before unlocking it and slipping inside.
âFifty-five?â he called. There were no lights on, and the house was deathly quiet. This wasnât like her at all. âMaybe sheâs not home,â he murmured aloud, closing the door behind him. âFifty-five, IâŠIâm sorry I havenât been talking to you, I meanâŠif you can hear me or anything. Oh wait maybe youâre upstairs. Oops s-sorry I didnât mean to raise my voice I hope I didnât wake you or anything.â He put a hand over his mouth. âNo shh stop talking youâre making it worse,â he hissed under his breath. âSheâs probably asleep.â
He crept up the stairs, peering into her room. She wasnât 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. Thatâs all he wanted. Just to make sure she knew it wasnât her fault. He had justâŠneeded 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 âshatteredâ as in a couple big pieces falling to the floor to be picked up and pieced back together. âShatteredâ 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 couldnât 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.
âH-heyâŠh-hey, i-i-itâs not safe to sleep down th-ere,â he said, kneeling down beside her. He reached out, pushing her arm lightly. She didnât move. âHaha, v-very f-f-funnyâŠprankâs over, y-you can get up n-owâŠâ
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 wasnât sure. He wanted that though. If this wasnât a jokeâŠno, 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. âTh-this isnât f-funny, Fifty-f-five,â he said, reaching out again. âL-look, y-you slept out h-ere and n-ow y-youâre c-old. Th-thatâs w-wh-at you get f-for not using a blan-ket. D-donât you know th-at?â The sadness turned to anger as she still didnât respond to him. âI-I s-sai-d this w-wasnât funny,â he repeated. âS-say someth-thing! Donât y-you f-feel bad f-for m-making me cr-y?â
Still nothing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Fifty had acknowledged she was gone, that she couldnât hear him anymore, but he wasnât ready to face that. He wasnât 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.
âS-stop s-sleeping, I-I came to s-see y-you⊠Get up, w-wake up, th-this isnât f-fairâŠâ He felt sick. The world spun and blurred and he didnât care. âY-you were s-supposed to be s-strongâŠf-for me⊠Y-you pro-mised me, F-Fifty-five⊠You made me a promise!!â He doubled over, clutching his stomach. It physically hurt. He couldnât even see clearly. âYOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULDNâT EVER LEAVE!!â