Again,
I find myself inside the familiar darkness. The eternal void swallowed
everything, only the sound of my voice inside my head kept me company. The
sense of time had gone out the window—I felt what they call eternity. Is this
death? I couldn’t really tell.
The
memory of what happened during the last moments of my consciousness suddenly
comes back like a flaming train wreck. The shooting pain was all in my head
this time, yet I could distinctly feel a charred hole the bullet made on my
Armani suit as my fingers ran through the fabric. There was a hole inside my
heart no painkillers could ever get rid off—and like the bullet hole itself, I
felt hollow.
My legs
were moving on their own—I wonder how many steps I had taken. The world I’m in
wasn’t moving an inch; it felt like I was on a permanent treadmill. Funny thing
was so was my head—no matter how much I think, I couldn’t make sense of it all.
I’m no detective but the work I do sometimes isn’t so different from what the
boys in blue do. If detectives had to think like a criminal to catch one, I
needed to think like a cop to avoid one. But at this moment, I had to think
like my own—scratch that, I’m not like him. I’m not like Alphonse Santino, the
mob boss, an emperor of crime, the Don—he was in a whole different level. I’m
nothing but a soldier or a pawn. He was the one pulling the strings.
Still,
I wanted to know what drove him to commit the ultimate crime in our way of
life—betrayal. Could the rings be the final sin? The kiss of Judas done on his
own son? I forgot that I was never really his son. Maybe blood did have
something to do with it. Or maybe it was his way of getting revenge. He knew
his real son wasn’t fit to rule and I had no intention of being Don. Maybe it
was his way of getting back at me. The
possibilities were as endless as the darkness around me.
At the
back of my head, I knew I was leaving off something important. It could make
sense to all of this but I couldn’t accept it just yet. If I do, I might be
discarding my sanity. That thing shouldn’t exist; it’s merely a figment of my
imagination, the product of too much movies and caffeine. I knew better.
Once
I’ve accepted this change in reality, everything slid into focus. The last
moments of my consciousness played inside my mind—the darkness around became
something like a projector. The memory played and I was watching it, front row
and center.
The
door swung open and I was greeted by a bullet to the chest. Not very welcoming
at all. I heard the gunshot, it made my run my fingers across my chest again
just to check if it was real. The pain came back to me through the memory; it
made me fall to my knees. Still, I
watched. I knew what was going to happen but there I was, hoping I missed
something. Next was the part where I started to lose consciousness. I knew at
that moment, I thought about a lot of things—most of them were questions. I
also knew at some point in that split-second, I stopped asking myself. I grew
furious of the betrayal I felt, I couldn’t die without returning the favor.
That’s when that thing swooped down from the corner of my eye. His crooked old
hands came out from under his tattered purple coat—he was a ghost only I could
see. Alphonse just stood there, helpless as that thing placed its hand inside
the Don’s chest. It looked like he couldn’t feel the G-man’s bony hand until he
had his hand wrapped around his black heart. I then remember the sensation—I
looked at my hand, I could feel the beating of his heart right on my palm like
I was holding with my own hand. Then I crushed it.
I felt
it pop like a balloon full of water yet there was nothing there. Still, I saw
Alphonse—he screamed and fell on his knees, his eyes wide and lifeless, his
expression was fearful and dead. That’s when the darkness had swallowed me in.
there was nothing else to remember, everything faded back to black.
He was dead;
I knew it for a fact.
As if
on cue, that thing appeared. Just like before, a spotlight shone out of nowhere
and he spiraled into existence.
“Looks
like you took a pretty nasty shot there, poppet. We’re back inside your
noggin’.” the G-man said. He had that impish smile on his face again.
“Am I
dead?” I asked. Even I was surprised how calm my tone was after all the crap
that just happened.
“I
don’t think so. Like I said, we’re back in your head. If you’re dead, there’s
no head to come back to,” said the G-man then he gave one of his trademark chuckles. He whizzed through the air and came close to
my face, his hollow eyes looked into mine.
“Aw, don’t be so glum, poppet! Just be glad we’re both alive!” he
laughed some more.
I stood
still as he kept swimming on air; I remembered this was his turf. I just hope
like before, he knew the way out of the darkness.
“How do
we get outta here?” I asked him, following his trail with my eyes as he kept
swooping in and out in my field of vision. He was like a fish swimming freely
inside his tank.
He
stopped for a while to address me, “Hah, we wait.”
“Wait?
What the hell does that mean? How long? Can’t you just do that thing you did
with the ring?” after I blurted out so many questions, it made look at hand—the
ring was still there. It wasn’t glowing anymore; does that mean it was all used
up?
“The
ring was nothing more than a key to the lock, poppet. Never thought I’d be out
and about again! Feels good to crack some old bones and crush some hearts
doesn’t it?”
“What’re
you talking about? Keys? Why would you be stuck inside a ring? What are you?”
“Slow
down with the questions, mate. I ain’t a professor,” The G-man laughed, amused
at the little lost lamb in front of him. “There’s no fun answering question
with just words, don’t you agree? Well, since we’re inside your head, why not
take a trip down memory lane, answer the questions yourself?”
The
G-man snapped his bony finger and everything around us started to grumble.
There was an earthquake inside my mind as he played god; things shifted and
moved like a world was being built inside my head. Walls formed around us, a
roof dropped out from the sky, decors, shelves chairs appeared out of
nowhere—there was a lot happening and fast. Within a couple of moments, the scenario
had changed. I was no longer inside the eternal darkness.
I was
at the middle of a hallway—a staircase leading to the second floor on my right
and a door to my left. The white walls were adorned with photos of a happy
family; an old man around his early forties, a woman in her late thirties and a
small boy. They looked so happy. I could hear a popular Christmas jingle
playing on an old radio. That would’ve explained the colorful lights outside,
shifting and changing into merry and witty patterns. The G-man was right behind
me, looking around the place like he has been here before. I could see
nostalgia etched on his caricatured face.
“Where
are we?” I asked my company.
“You’ll
find out soon, poppet,” was his answer. He whizzed on ahead and turned back at
me. “Come on, let’s go.”
I took
my time, looked at everything I passed. I had this eerie feeling that I had
been here before—everything was so familiar. I approached the wooden door, the
G-man had already phased inside. The old hinges creaked aloud as I slowly
opened the door but it seemed I was the only one who heard it. I peeked inside.
The first thing that I saw was two shadows dancing on the wall. One was of a
man, reading a book or something as he sat comfortably in his chair. The second
shadow was a lot smaller—probably a kid. He was playing with some sort of toy
then propped himself on the floor. I tried to see to whom the shadows belonged
to—the light from the fireplace was too bright to take a good look. I had no
other choice but to get closer. I stood next to the G-man, who was observing
the two people as much as I did. I was right, it was a man and a kid; probably
father and son. The kid had messy dark hair and brown eyes. He was busy drawing
something on a piece of paper. The man on the chair had short-white hair—army
cut, I think. He was switching between reading his book and looking at the kid.
Something was wrong with the old man’s face though, or maybe it was my eyes. I
couldn’t get a good look at his face—as if his features were smudged out and
censored. I rubbed my eyes, it was still the same.
“Who
are this people? Why can’t they see us?” I asked the G-man in a hushed voice. I
still didn’t know if they could hear us.
“Shh!
Look.” The G-man replied in the same hushed tone. It was bizarre—for a moment
there, I could see the G-man with a smile on his face that didn’t seem
intimidating. He gestured me to watch the kid. It looked like he was about done
drawing his masterpiece.
“Dad!
Dad, look!” the enthusiastic youngster hurried to his father to show his art.
The father closed his book and placed it at a small table beside his chair. He
gave all his attention to the child.
“What
is it, kiddo?” the father asked.
“Look
what I drew!”
The kid
gave the piece of paper to the father.
The old man took it gladly and began looking at the scribble like it
needed deep analysis.
“Who’s
this supposed to be?” the father asked in a friendly tone, eager to hear his
son’s answer.
“He’s
my friend.” the kid gleefully replied.
I
couldn’t see the drawing from where I was standing although my companion beside
me looked like he knew what was going on.
“When
you’re gone, he keeps the monsters under the bed away,” the kid told his
father. He acted out absurd things that only existed in a child’s wild
imagination. “He has a thousand swords and guns under his coat, he gives me ice
cream from his hat and flies around like Superman!”
Coat?
Hat? Flies around? I didn’t like the way things were going. Could it be?
“Well,
I have to thank him for keeping my little buddy safe while I was gone!” the
father declared at his son. The father
stood up and propped the boy on his shoulders. He carried the kid as they
played near the fireplace. The kid laughed and had a good time. It made me
smile a bit. “Is he stronger than your old man?”
“No
dad, you’re a gazillion times stronger.” the boy didn’t even need to think to
answer. At his age, no one was stronger than the father. He was better than any
guardian angel or teddy bear. He kept the monsters at bay, he protects you and
shelter you in his shadows. Too bad that sense of security ends a bit too soon.
After
horsing around a few more minutes, the father let his child down. “Well, it’s
getting late. You better get some sleep. We’ll leave Bagiuo tomorrow morning
and visit your mom at the cemetery.” said the old man.
The boy,
energetic as ever told his old man, “I’ll race you to my room!” and he ran off.
The
father smiled as he sighed. He grabbed his book and began to head out. He
stepped on a piece of paper that made him stop in his tracks. The father picked
it up and gave the drawing another look. A worried smile began to form in his
face. He placed the drawing at the table. “I’m coming, Matty!” the father
declared as he walked away, towards where the boy went.
Matty? I thought. My paranoia increased.
Was it really possible that all this was a forgotten memory? If so, was that me
when I was a kid? Was the old man my real father? Was he Nathaniel Cross? I
found myself running towards the drawing the kid made. The sketch at the table
stared me down, I couldn’t believe what I saw. I held the paper with trembling
hands and looked at the person the kid drew with his crayons—Top hat, purple
coat, orange hair and black eyes. It couldn’t be…
It was
me—the kid was me and that was my father. I couldn’t see his face clearly because
the memory was too faded. The moment was too bittersweet—how lucky was I to see
a memory already buried too deep in my past only to be reminded that it won’t
ever happen again.
“Matt?”
I heard my father’s voice again. It came from outside the room. Was he
searching for me?
Didn’t
bother to stop and think it through. I let the paper fall down on the carpeted
floor as I dashed away, hoping to see the father and son. I didn’t know why
seeing their smiles calmed me down; brought me peace. All I knew was I couldn’t
get enough of it. Their happiness was addictive and I was nothing but a
parasite that wanted to feed off it. I didn’t know why I was like that—probably
because they reminded me of a simple life I wish I had. Maybe I did have it, I
just couldn’t remember.
No such
luck. No such luck at all.
I broke
the wooden doors open by ramming my shoulder against it; didn’t have the right
mind to pull it and save me the trouble. All I could think of was seeing the
two people playing by the fireplace. But as soon as the door flew out of its
hinges, I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t tell if time slowed down or
gravity suddenly clocked out—the door kept floating on thin air. But that
wasn’t the more shocking part of the scenario; just a warm-up of the madness
that followed. The world that formed around us began to deteriorate. The whole
thing looked like a giant Lego model being ripped out piece by piece at an
alarming rate. The floor under me phased out of existence and I found myself
floating with the doors. Soon enough,
the doors were gone too. I was back with what I started on this mad
journey—nothingness.
I felt
like a feather gently falling down the ground. I knew I landed when my feet
felt something hard—where or what I was on, I still couldn’t tell. I was back
at the darkness. I felt sad, lost, and confused. It was like being shot in the
heart again—the hollow feeling returned with the vengeance. Somehow, I saw
happiness in the earlier setup but like all the things that I love, the world
ripped it away from me, cruelly and slowly. I felt a tear began to trickle down
my left eye.
Suddenly,
the G-man zoomed in from behind and started to just float there in front of me
within arm’s reach. The moment I saw him, I felt all that sadness wash away.
The negative emotion was overshadowed with something more volatile. He stared
at me with those blank ayes and that permanent grin on his face—it all made me
boil up inside.
“That
kid… was that me?” I asked as I mustered all self-control I had not to go mad.
I wasn’t doing a very good job. My fists trembled and I began to feel my nails
dig in my palms.
“Aye.”
that was all he answered.
“Then
the old man…”
“Correct
again. That’s your real dad. Nathaniel Cross himse-”
I
didn’t let the bastard finish his sentence. I dashed in, grabbed him by his
coat and brought his face closer to mine. My furious eyes stared his hollow and
soulless ones.
“Is
this how you get your kicks, you twisted son of a bitch?!” I began to shout,
just letting all the rage out. At some point during the conversation, my hands
found its way on his neck and I began to strangle him. That smirk of his just
made me want to kill him. “Haven’t you seen me suffer enough?! I watched you
kill Alphonse while I was at the brink of death, you showed me a memory I never
knew I had so you can rip it away from me again! Does that make you happy?!
Does it make you happy to see me suffer?! He was there but I couldn’t even
remember his face! I couldn’t remember my father’s face!”
Even I
had to admit I was getting too emotional. I shouted, was pissed and cried as I
blamed the G-man. It was all I could do. It was all I wanted to do. I didn’t
want to blame him, he was just there; I could’ve blamed anybody. For once, I
just wanted someone else to take the fall—someone to point a finger at when
asked who was responsible for all the tragedies in my life. I was too tired of
blaming myself or calling things coincidences. I was being selfish.
But he
took it; he took all the rage I had to throw. I’ve exhausted my hands trying to
strangle the life out of him. He waited for me to calm down before he phased
out of my hands.
“Stop
your cryin’ poppet, you look like a pussy!” he told me. He laughed. That really
wasn’t what I wanted to hear but in its twisted way, it helped me calm down. “Anyways,
I didn’t show that memory so I could see you whine like a fuckin’ baby. You’re
the one who told me to show it to you in case you set me out again.”
I’m
beginning to wonder what the fuck happened five years ago.
“You’re
the one who locked up that memory, poppet. You locked it up with other memories
inside that ruby ring of yours,” the G-man began explaining. I couldn’t help
looking at the ring Alphonse gave to me. Is this all happening just because of
one lousy ring? “That’s not the only memory you locked up. I’ve got four more
to show ya’.”
“But
why? Why show me all of this?” I asked. I’ve began to regain my composure. Wiped
off all the remaining tears and snot on my sleeve.
“Ahh,
my memory ain’t that good, poppet—but I’ll tell you what I know. You sealed me
away at the deepest caverns of your mind—that made you forget and repress all
memories that concerned or involved me. The key were the five memories you held
dear. With a help of some witch five years ago, fogot the bloody hag’s name,
she sealed those memories inside the ring with some voodoo crap. Guess it ain’t
that unbelievable after seeing me murder your father. There’s a lot of fucked
up shit in this world, poppet, and you chose to forget it all—including your
powers. Once you had that ring on your finger, the lock was broken and I was
finally free again. I guess that’s about the gist of it.”
“Powers?
What powers?” I asked. The more things the G-man say, the more things don’t
make sense. Somehow, the story became a fairy tale; talking about witches,
voodoo magic and supernatural powers. That really wasn’t my cup of tea.
“Well,
uh. It’s sorta’ like uh… weird,” the G-man took his hat off as he scratched his
balding head. It looked like he was really deep in thought. “Never had to
explain it before, it just came naturally last time. Basically, I can do shit
for you. You really have to see it in action to understand it. Sorry, mate.”
The
G-man laughed. Things still were as dim as fish on murky water.
“But
why these memories?”
“I don’t
really know. If you ask me, I guess you put there to show yourself why you got
rid of your powers in the first place—so you could stop before it was too late.
Guess it’s supposed to remind you why you gave it up in the first place. Well,
we still have four more memories to get through. Maybe it’ll make sense then.” said
the G-man.
Things
were getting weirder and weirder. Twilight zone had nothing on what I’m
witnessing right now. All the memories of my past were littered with bloodshed
and crime. I thought it was as low as it gets. Then he went on about repressed
memories—some skeleton in my closet I never knew.
“Fine. Let’s
head to the next freakshow.” I said. I grew tired of asking the G-man; his
answers only lead to more questions. Hopefully, the second memory will clear
things up. If not, I’ve got three more shots. I wasn’t in a hurry—it looked
like I had all the time in the world.
The
G-man nodded. The darkness began to quake and things began to appear out of
nowhere again. I waited what the next dream will tell me.
TO BE CONTINUED
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