I take in my surroundings, uncertain as to where I am. It doesn't take me long to discover that I'm not far from the park. The park where I shot Matraya in cold blood. Guilt washing over me in waves, I sink to my knees, burying my face in my hands, a strangled cry of denial escaping me. As I succumb to the sorrow, years of pent of pain well up in my chest painfully. Every day of my life has been a struggle, a fight to survive. Now this. Now that I have found people that I can trust to stand at my side, I find myself at the mercy of my own darkness, my own insanities. I find myself committing acts to those I would call friends that Thaddeus would be proud of.
Why now? Am I always to walk through life alone? Forever watching others, wanting what they have, knowing that this is to never be mine? I could have hoped for forgiveness by Jag if not for what I did to Cain. This is something I can't expect, nor ask him to forgive. I stole from him something that I, myself, have ached for for years. If someone I thought to be my friend took this from me I wouldn't rest until he or she died the most brutal death I could invent. I have no right to expect any less from Jag, nor can I hope for it.
Staggering to my feet I make my way back to the streets, knowing in my heart what I must do. I must find Jag, and allow him the vengeance he craves. It is not that I wish to die, but better I die than more fall to the evil thing inside of me. Better I die then suffer the loss that this thing has surely caused me.
I pause in an alleyway, my hand wrapping around my gun, my eyes locked on the building before me. Why take the coward's way out? Why expect others to do what I, myself, should have the strength to do? Slowly I pull my gun, pressing the muzzle to my temple, my eyes closing, my heart racing, icy fear tearing through my gut.
Once again I sink to my knees, a tear slipping down my face, the gun slipping from my numb fingers. Try as I might, I can't pull the trigger. The will to survive I inherited from my father is greater than my guilt. I can't take my own life. My will is simply not that strong. I can, however, hand myself over to Jag. This much I can manage.
I force myself to stand, leaving my gun where it fell. Silently I head for the park, every step becoming a battle as the dark thing within me fights for dominance. It knows all to well what I intend, and refuses to allow me that release. I, on the other hand, refuse to relinquish control. This must end...will end...tonight.
As I near the park I spot three figures; Matraya, Ibybeth, and the half demon. My steps falter as I near them, uncertain as to whether they would do what must be done. It is Jag who has that strength, that determination. Any feelings of friendship between he and I shattered when I stood over him, taunting him with a painful death. He is the one I must find.
I turn away from them, continuing towards the park, something telling me that it is there that I will find Jag. Soon I come across his scent, still fairly strong. He's been here, recently. With someone else. Ignoring the second scent, I make my way to a park bench, and sit, waiting, using what remains of my internal strength to keep my alter ego at bay. Soon it will end. Soon.
