Going Down

~

I'm losing ground

I bear no sound

He was sorrowfully looking out through his lone window that was covered with light metal bars on the outside. It's been very sad and lonely two weeks at this point. It seemed nobody was coming to see him anymore and so far the medical staff left him alone for most part.

Almost as if to let him stew on his own and figure things out so that when there will be a hearing and trial after all this isolation time he's somewhat collected and decent.

Well, not that he hasn't been decent...

However there was no denying things still didn't look particularly bright for Malcolm. Two weeks later he was still in some shock from his own actions. The hand tremor was a strange thing if he was being honest. He used to struggle with it but now ever since he let that knife become something that took over his life the tremor wasn't really the main thing that was worrisome.

Tremors now rattled his whole body. And at first he understood inside that it was perfectly normal for the shock and grief to work its way through his system and he allowed a good sobbing for several days but it wasn't just about his serial killer father or the fact he actually killed him.

The only thing I wanna let you know

I never meant to hurt you

There it was...

The thought of his own hand being capable of doing something so ruthless and crude, so instinctive and self-defensive. He wasn't meaning to do that yet here he was, stuffed into some mental institution like some crazy psychopath. Which, judging by his past and present, may have been holding a bit more truth than he wished to admit. But not really, cause that wouldn't be him to be like that. And he's not a sociopath either, not to his extended knowledge at least...

Yet he looked at the outside and felt the deep burn of that fire he sometimes was feeling when things took that dark turn. Malcolm was far from being 'bright' and he took that as some sort of an inside joke.

Sleep was still a thing he couldn't get fully on par with, but it was slowly progressing into an even deeper insomnia that sneakily bordered on plain madness. It started to look reasonable for him to be in here. He's not crawling the walls... yet...

Though it wasn't entirely far from that...

The only thing I really know for sure

I never meant to kill you

At least no hallucinations so far which was something Malcolm was grateful for because even the slightest and faintest thought of having his dead father taunting him all this time... well, if he was being honest to himself, having his father pop up in any environment, his loft included, was not pleasant under any circumstances on a regular day... however... now that there was this part of his life gone he felt somehow empty. Alone even.

No more chatter from the corner, no more advice of how to do things or just the seemingly sincere genuine interest about his son. And while it irked him to no end somewhere very deep down he carried a small warm spot for that. After all they all were probably right about that, it's just him denying the only true thing about himself.

And he really didn't mean to kill the man. It just happened. Right when the words sank and the realisation hit...

"You're going to kill me. Ten seconds ago, that's when you decided."

The words now only kept turning around in his head. It happened too fast and too sudden and now there's nobody left. He was so scared and in so much pain and guilt ridden...

He truly just acted out in pure autopilot it seemed. His hands moving before his brain caught on, an action drilled into him by the FBI training. And he's always been quick on his feet and wit.

The only thing I wanna let you know

I never meant to hurt you

The only thing I really know for sure

I never meant to kill you

"I was right. We are the same."

Echoes of Martin Whitly's last words kept echoing in Malcolm's mind over and over again like a broken record. The guilt was eating him from the inside and he felt so raw. It burst through his very core burning like the candle light he once kept his hand above until it hurt too much to handle, as a child he'd been like this, broken by the very man himself only to be kept broken over and over again, yet here he was over and over again, in pain but still not too far from the man.

He'd promised his mother, his sister, even himself and his father to never return and speak with him again, yet he kept coming back.

Sure FBI did somehow make their connection less intense but it never withered fully. While his night terrors eased up some they never truly went away. He was always drawn to the dark and mysterious mind of his ancestor. It's the price of a man being born to a pathological serial killer, a psychopath... all in all a very calculating man who knew exactly how to manipulate his own family, the people that were meant to be close and protected and not put through that much pain.

He was just a boy yet he felt it his job to protect and keep his family safe and now that everything had happened it stung him as a deep failure, a very big failure to keep the monster out, because the monster was better than him, more clever and more sinister...

To young Malcolm to this day it felt like he was betraying someone and failing badly, and while the monster was gone he still felt like failure.

Nothing new there, he did fail his own promise to himself, now he has to pay for that.

And the pay was eating himself alive on the inside with his heart bleeding out.

That very last couple days...

When he started to believe (cautiously) maybe he could still have a dad for a moment...

Maybe there was still a teeny tiny sliver of hope for their relationship being something beside grooming for something dark and sinister...

He knew, of course, it was a pretty lame and incredibly naive of a man like him to hope for such thing. Yes, he actually started to see some hope but then he asked his father to do something, he did regret that, but it also caused him to notice few things about himself so when he let go of that knife all his eyes could focus on was his damned traitorous hand...

The one who had finally stopped shaking and betraying his fragile mental state. And he's been fluctuating so badly of the past year. His hallucinations have always been wild but then since his return to NYC and then all that happened to Ainsley it seemed to pull the floor from under his feet...

Now, looking back at all of that, he should've had it coming from miles away...

They were the same indeed...

He came to this conclusion as the vague memory of him walking down a path while leaving his father to do the dirty job and then for the most part after the final moment... he was finally seeing it!

It was whenever he allowed himself to forget for a bit, that he was sternly standing against everything his father was and in those moments he allows himself to not solely focus on that his tremor goes away.

And hell, some devil of his own has been unleashed just as well. And in those moments he feels like going down..

I'm going down

As you see

I can feel your hand

Reaching out for me