4 Chapter Three - Facade

With a gun in my hand, I thought for a moment that I might be able to end it all. The bullet in the chamber would be enough, yet there was a sprig of doubt lingering. Out of those times I brushed against death, what would make this time unique? There's no guarantee that I won't be dragged back to the room and be stuck in an endless cycle of torment with that woman.

"What's wrong, Gray? Cat got your tongue?" The librarian taunts as she leans over her desk.

Then, there's the question of whether she's an actual ally. While she may wear Ashley's face and have her voice, she's nothing like the real one. She had the same stare as those eyes, looking for a morbid way to dissect my thoughts and actions. I had to pick my words carefully.

"Why am I still alive?" I ask as I reluctantly holster my handgun.

"Lost your mind already?" She giggles as she trails around to the front of the desk with a Chesire grin.

"What do you mean?" I question cautiously, approaching her with my hand still resting heavily on my gun.

She doesn't give me a straight answer, just hushes herself like I said the wrong password, pressing a finger to her lips. I must be reeking of fear since she didn't back down either, tip-toeing closer to watch my pained expression. She had a leash and collar around my neck; it was only a matter of how she'd use it.

"Don't you know that a magician doesn't tell their tricks? It ruins the magic." She says as she lifts my chin with a crooked finger.

"Should I take that literally?" I say, trying to incite anything.

Nothing. Not a single ounce of satisfaction left her smirk. As much as I'd like to confirm my suspicions, that damn smirk made me doubt the illogicality behind my assumptions. Whether it was because of how much I trusted that same smile for so many years, I didn't know.

"Don't think about it too hard." She snickers as she flicks my face to the side with a gentle swat. "Your gun needs to do its job."

"This… So, called rent?" I ask, unconsciously biting down on my lower lip a little too hard.

The only reason I knew that was the metallic taste of blood seeping across my tongue. My lack of self-control made me want to gag; I thought I was over mindlessly harming myself. It just reminds me that I'm losing myself slowly.

"More like an annual contract." She states as she picks up the book she was reading earlier. "You've already done a part of it."

"Yeah, that old man already told- Mother fuck-" I hold my tongue as I barely catch the book suddenly flung at my face.

"The details are in the book," she says nonchalantly as if she did nothing. "Don't come back until you've finished the job."

"Why should I do this anyway? There's nothing in it for me." I say, tucking the book by my hip.

"He never did explain how this place works, did he? Typical…" The librarian scoffs. "Let me answer your question with a question, although you perceive me as your friend; how do you think others see me?"

"I… What do you mean by that?"

"How easy do you believe it is to warp someone's reality?" She says with a hint of ecstasy dripping from her words, spreading her arms skyward. "Look no farther than the ceiling to grasp the sheer magnitude of the world you're blocking out."

As I looked up at the pitch-black ceiling, I didn't understand what she was trying to point out. It wasn't until I noticed a slick coating reflecting the whole room upon us. I would have brushed it off as a trick of the light if my reflection didn't constrict in the mass of darkness. That isn't a ceiling; that's an eye.

"W-what the hell even is that!?" I tremble as I try to wrap my head around the size of this thing.

"It's quite beautiful, don't you think, Gray?" She sighs longingly. "Something beyond God himself."

"Beyond… God? That… T-that's just crazy talk!" Despite seeing its vein pulse at the corner of my eye, I try to rationalize. "God isn't some being to be seen, just a concept!"

"You see, people tend to have a different image of what they believe God is, hence the reason for the many religions spanning the globe. But, when a collective of people come together, such as this apartment, a manifestation takes shape."

"This is all a sick fucken joke! Just an elaborate illusion." I say as I chuck the book to the ground and stomp it under my heel.

But, once a page frayed off the book, all hell broke loose. Like a flood, tendrils pour out of the book and constrict my legs, snaking it's way up my waist. I barely manage to draw my handgun before a sharp tug glues my elbow to my rib and keeps the barrel under my chin.

"You don't seem to understand what I mean." She says as she slides by my side and weighs down my trigger, just enough so that the hammer doesn't slam on the firing pin. "Don't you want to see your family again?"

"What did you say?" I blurt, almost releasing the tension from my finger.

I didn't expect her to know about them out of all people, oddly ahead of that old man. If he knew, I'm surprised he never gloated about it in front of those so-called neighbors. For someone who hardly knew my name, just how many secrets does she hold?

"I've read up on your name. Tragic, really. But, what if I said you could bring back your family through our God? All for the simple price of following orders." She tells me, easing off the trigger as I fall deeply into a stupor.

Could it be that easy? After all these years, would we still be the stable family in those old photos? Will everything be sunshine and rainbows, or would it just be wishful thinking to stay in the past? I wanted the voices to tell me I was right to be pessimistic, so why the hell are they agreeing with my actions!?

"Do it."

"You have nothing to lose."

"What are you waiting for?"

I barely pull back to reality as the tendrils slip into nothingness, fading into the floor as I slump down to my knees like a broken marionette. The weight of everything almost made me forget how to breathe, choking on the barest amount of spit laced on my dry tongue.

"So, what will it be?" The librarian asks, not holding back a single ounce of pity in those azure eyes. "If it makes it easier, the ones listed on your contract are all faces you're familiar with. But, don't worry, I can replace and bring out the best qualities of your friends. The outside world won't be able to touch your family ever again once you've finished. You can even relieve those carnal feelings you've repressed through the benevolence of our God."

"I… No, I don't want to." I mutter under my breath as I grit my teeth and tear my gaze from her, struggling to remind myself she isn't Ashley.

Familiar faces? No, no, no, I can't. She's just trying to use me. I don't need more faces plastered in my head at night.

"But, why big brother?" A familiar voice echoes, cutting across the others and severing the cord tying my resolve. "We're waiting for you."

"H-Harry?" I squeak out before my throat tightens up when I see nobody in front of me, just the amalgamation of mannequin parts staring down at me with its maw wide open.

"It hurts, Gray." I hear my mom groan from within, followed by my father in quick succession. "Help us."

As their cries crescendo, a tear slowly dragged across my cheek, not of happiness or sadness, but of disgust. A benevolent god? If that's supposed to be his angel, I must be the sheep made for slaughter. Yet, I wanted to believe that I had a second chance at saving them.

"Tell me, even after you've seen them in this much pain, do you still want to refuse?" The librarian says behind my back, adjusting my head so I wouldn't turn from it. "Time's ticking, Gray."

"I… I'll do it," I mutter through my gritted teeth.

"Don't be shy now. God is watching, remember?" She says as she points to the throbbing roof above our heads.

"I said, I'll do it!" I bark, trying my hardest to mask the grief slowly welling up in my chest.

"Thatta boy," she praises as she whistles for the spider mannequin down. "Don't resist; it'll only hurt more if the razors snag on the way down."

As she left my side, I found myself wondering why the hell did I agree. A baby should be innocent, and those razor blades lining its mouth were anything but that. I already doubled down on accepting her God's contract, so it made no difference what I believed in as it hoists me into the air. Just close my eyes and settle on the fact that it'll hurt going down, right?

Too bad it was too excruciating to suck it up. Curling up into a ball earlier might have saved me a few extra lacerations, but you can't be sure when the blades are already going down lengthwise across my arms and legs. It wasn't a quick way down either since most of the razor blades got caught on my clothes. I could only wait until the pain went numb, not wanting to open my eyes until I felt some ground under me.

I was making a slow descent on an escalator, straight into a subway tunnel when I came to. My mind was still so scattered that I didn't care about where I was at; the relief from pain was enough to make me crack a deranged smile. Trying to rack my head on the location would split my head in two; the new scars dotting my arms were enough. This is all for my family, I remind myself.

Once I reached the bottom, I stood up and surveyed the area, oddly expecting a stray dog to pounce on the scraps of food littering the desolate station. For how dirty it was, for it to be this quiet felt bizarre, especially with the train purring on standby. It made me remember that the gun in my hand is meant to kill whoever or whatever is here. I was about to explore the station more, but I jumped inside without thinking when the train doors were about to shut all of a sudden.

The shift into motion made me uneasy, wobbling back up to my feet like a drunkard. I wish the librarian had explained who I was up against because my only option was to move up to the conductor's cabin. Familiar faces sounded too vague for my liking; it made me too afraid to move to each train cabin. The creeping anxiety was cutting into my lungs, and I knew it but couldn't stop moving.

"Kill, kill, kill…." The voices chant as if to steel my resolve for the last cabin, yet it all came crashing down as I met the familiar face she was talking about.

"Paul," I quiver as my grip tightens on my gun.

Standing in our security uniform with the Cerberus's Defense logo hand-stitched onto his chest, and at six foot seven, he was nothing to scoff at. I was the one who joked about his shiny, pale head being noticeable, so he built a funny habit of wearing a black beanie around me. I still remember teaching him how to shoot that handgun on his belt. Now, I have to put a bullet in the same person who would have taken one for me?

"Gray, is that you? What happened? You look terrible. I mean, I'm glad to see you, but we have pressing-" Paul says until he freezes up and raises his hands in the air as I aim at his head. "Woah, what the hell are you doing!? It's me you're pointing at here!"

"J-just, just turn around, man. Make this easy for me." I order as I adjust my aim when his posture stiffens up.

"Hey, hey, you don't just wave a gun in my face for no reason. Talk to me here." He begs, trying to deescalate the situation.

"They… I'm sorry, but I took an offer that I can't refuse… It's not like you have anything to prove that you're not part of everything trying to burrow in my head." I force myself to believe, finding any attempt to relate him to the librarian.

"What!? Don't tell me you've gone schizo on me?" He shakes his head in utter disbelief, taking a step back.

"I'm telling you… Don't go for that door. You know as well as I do that you're a big target." I wince, feeling the weight of his words cut like a hot knife through butter.

"And, let you shoot me!? Look, I've seen some fucked up shit here too, but what the hell did you see?" He demands, slowly easing his hands down.

"I… It's for a good cause." I say, trying to display as little weakness as possible to mend my stoic facade.

Unlike that librarian, Paul felt real. He came across as genuine, yet I still wanted to believe he was fake. Part of me liked the idea that he'd die a swift death and that God would have sway in his passing, but then that would defeat the purpose of having him dead. No matter how I tried painting it, I had no excuse aside from the deceased's wishes.

"A good cause?" He snaps. "After all this time, you decided to betray my trust now? Do you think I'm going to take a bullshit excuse like that?"

"No… But, you won't be able to pull the trigger in time." I state, knowing where his hands plan to dart to immediately.

In those few moments, neither of us moved an inch. Paul had nothing more to say to me as our eyes locked, slowly squeezing down on the trigger, making sure his head was aligned with my sights. One bullet, one chance to give up. I knew I could have pulled the trigger earlier, but at the same time, I wanted to give him a chance to kill me before I had the opportunity to shoot.

And, as our minds changed from being friends to being enemies, so did the train. The chrome paint covering the sheet metal slowly peels and withers into rust, dying the cabin red before either of us spilled blood. Neither of us wanted to show it, but we were terrified of this place more than the guns we held. It wasn't until the eyes of the neighbors slowly trickled in to watch our fiasco from the windows.

The blur of the lights made it clear, we were going faster, but everything came to a snail's pace with the click of his holster. If I dropped my handgun, would he be able to survive the horrors of this place, or would I be prolonging the inevitable? Maybe the idea of feeling the same kind he feels right at this moment would spark a bit of empathy. Instead, I felt a blinding numbness as the crack of our barrels rang in the cabin.

"I taught you to shoot to kill, dammit…." I growl as I clutch the hole in my shoulder, watching Paul's lifeless body slumped against the cabin door.

They were laughing, laughing at my inability to trust my decisions. It showed as Paul's blood slowly pooled at my feet and reflected nothing but a monster chasing his own selfish desires. I thought a tinge of remorse would hit at any moment, but when nothing came, I tossed my gun. Kneeling by his corpse, I picked up his handgun and placed the barrel against my head, wanting to feel what he felt.

*Click*

"Fuck!" I howled, hoping to reach out for anything, but the world never answered back.