Renaistre

Angelus Reprobi

The burning sensation of smoke hitting the back of the throat was nothing new to the tired man who slouched against the wall of a run down bakery. He knew this was bad for his health  physically and mentally, but for him the repercussions of the cigarettes in the long term was nothing compared to what he caused. He was still alive after all. It didn't matter to him if the tar turned out to be the end of him, that was nothing compared to what they went through.

"Tim? I need you to make a few more cakes before you leave!"

Right, work. Tim threw the cigarette on the floor and extinguished the light beneath his foot before making his way back inside. He slightly waved at the old lady who had previously called out to him as to acknowledge the command. Truthfully Tim could've had a better job, he had the degree for it, but it reminded him of everything he'd left behind. He didn't have funds to go back to school so he settled on working at the bakery when he first moved into the town. "As long as it pays the rent" was his mindset as he worked away in the kitchen.

-

The ride home was silent other than faint sounds of the motor and the wind blowing against the car. Tim couldn't listen to music. Every station reminded him of the days he and Brian would carelessly dance around as children during their sleepovers; which then transitioned to the memory of him unveiling the masked man he killed to be the same kid he grew up with. Tim grimaced at the thought as he pulled into his parking spot near his apartment. He supposed he shouldn't completely blame himself about it as it was a survival instinct, but then again he'd remember that Brian never even attacked him in his disguised state. Worse, when he'd originally looked back at the footage Jay had posted online, he saw that he had worked with Brian as his own disguised figure.

"You good in there?"

Tim looked up to see his neighbor knocking on his window. He must've been spaced out for a while, lost in his thoughts when he shouldn't have been. He shot her a smile and a thumbs up before getting his things together and carefully exiting his car. "I'm good, Dr. Thatcher. Just tired from work." Tim waved her concerns off as he locked the car, knowing she wasn't convinced. Dr. Thatcher had been watching him ever since he moved in, not out of malice but distress. He really couldn't blame her, the apartment walls were paper thin and for the first few months he lived there, he'd have terrible breakdowns resulting on her or her husband coming over to check on him.

"If you say so... Please do consider coming over for dinner tonight. I know I ask you often and you usually cant make it, but you're looking malnourished. It's not my place to pry but if you don't have a doctor-"

"You know I don't have insurance, Dr. Thatcher. I'm fine, really. I'll come over tonight if it clears your head. Is your husband cooking?"

"Of course."

"Oh, then I'm definitely coming. I'll see you later, okay?"

Walking away was relieving, he could sulk in peace at home alone while he prepared to spend a few hours pretending nothing ever happened to him while at dinner with the neighbors. He unlocked his apartment door and walked in to the mostly empty living area. When he left Alabama, he didn't bring a thing with him. No furniture, no clothes, no medications. Nothing but his car, his phone, and... The camera. After he uploaded the last entry and left, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of the thing. Even when he privated all the videos to prevent the world from experiencing his and his friend's traumas, in the end he couldn't allow himself to delete the past completely.

How could he? Erase the last moments of his friends and never see their faces again? They didn't deserve that. Even Alex who killed most of them because he didn't know better... None of them deserved what they went through. Tim would have taken the fall if it meant they'd all be here, alive and well.