Kill Your Darlings

Chapter 8 - Endgame.

But he may have your son. You know that, so you turn the knob and push the door open, venturing into the office before anyone outside can see you.

The place is silent; the smell of death and decay is nonexistent in the room. You step deeper into the office, noticing everything is exactly how you left it, save for the dust coating the desk and tabletops.

There’s a figure sitting on the couch, which faces a flickering fireplace. It takes a moment for you to realise that it’s Spencer; he has the same sweater you woke up with in the motel. He has his fingers entwined at the back of his head, orange flames creating a dull glow at the tip of each black strand of hair. You stop right behind him, unsure whether to move in front of him or stay still. He isn’t moving.

“Spencer?” you ask, but your voice is too quiet. Too frail. “Spencer, is that really you?”

The figure doesn’t move for another minute or two before he says, “Can you tell me how it felt walking in here?”

“What?”

“I just want to know the feeling you had when you walked into this office, found this fireplace flickering with flames, and two bodies tangled in front of it. I want to know what was running through your head when you saw the person you loved with another. Did the feeling ever hover over you? Or did it drift away at some point or the other?”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I still feel angry, doc. I really do. You may have forgotten, but I didn’t. I still feel them here, for fuck’s sake. When did you become so blind?”

“This needs to stop.” Your voice sounds louder than you expected. “All these—these gruesome things you’ve done, the pain you caused those people and their families…it needs to end now, Spencer. Right here. Give me back my family.”

Spencer doesn’t answer right away. He stands instead, finally turning to show those unusual green eyes you’ve grown to love and hate. He folds his arms across his chest and watches you carefully—perhaps amused—as you squirm under his gaze.

“This is the endgame,” he says. “You’re a step away from the finish line. You’re finally ready to move on—we’re ready. We can venture in the world together and kill people’s darlings. Let’s save them from themselves.”

“Enough! Give me my family!”

The corner of his lip twitches in annoyance, yet he still pulls up a grin. “Do you want your prize?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer. He has his hands in the pockets of his sweater, soon pulling out a strip of newspaper and handing it over to you.

Couple found murdered at psychiatrist’s office—murderer unknown.

“I find these things funny, you know,” Spencer says as your eyes widen at the words printed in fine ink. “Here I am, out in the open, yet there’s nobody around to catch me. See, officers are pretty dispassionate about their jobs nowadays. The old couple, the little boy…it’ll probably take some time until they’ll come around. By then, we’ll already be on our way. Just like you did some odd years ago when I didn’t exist.”

“W-what are you talking about?”

“Come on, doc. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don’t you fuck with me!” His voice sends a tremble straight down your spine, causing your legs to give away and fall beneath you. “I know what you did. I know how angry you felt when you saw them, and how relieving it was to give them what they deserved. I felt it, doc. I felt the anger, the pain, and the triumph of running away and leaving your sin behind, knowing that there won’t be anyone around to condemn you for it. You knew this. You’re just boxing it up. I’m here to set you free.”

“But I don’t—”

“Your darlings, doc. After this—after that traitor—you built them around you. You allowed them to shape you into something pathetic; something you’re not supposed to be. You left me for them. I made this game to take you back, doc. We belong together.”

He’s moving closer now, eyes blazing with something you can’t quite comprehend. Before you can get your body to snap out of the shock and move, he has your hands in his, staring at you intently.

“You’re just as smart as I am, doc. You know it, but you’re boxing yourself up. You’re trying to force yourself to be one of the mundane bastards who run the world. But we’re something far greater than them. You know that. Unlock it, doc, and remember how it felt. Remember the old couple, and the little boy, and even that teenager. Remember the fear in their eyes when you came up. It felt good, didn’t it?”

Did it?

“It did. You know it did. I can’t keep doing this on my own—I need you back.”

Quick scenes flash in your head; memories of blood, screams, and quick cover ups going through your mind. But who had written the letter?

“You did. It must’ve been a hell of a lot of work—flashing in and out of your own head.” Spencer lets go of your hands and stands, staring down at you with a smug grin. “It’s about time you answer my question, doc. If you had a son that existed, what would you name him?”

But you can’t answer. The pain in your head is growing, jolts thrumming from your brain to the rest of your body and sending you in a state of shock. Spencer doesn’t make a single move to help; he only stands over you with that same smile on his face, amusement shining through odd eyes.

“What are you?” you manage to ask.

Spencer folds his arms over his chest and shrugs, saying, “To be honest, doc, I’m everything you’re not.”

A/N: This isn't the end. I've got another chapter coming your way; it's just in its writing and editing phase c: