Rise of a Dark Hero

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He sat on his knees, tears welling in his eyes. How had it come to this? To watch his mentor, his partner, his longtime friend, die before him. He stared, not believing that a man with such strength and conviction go into the eternal sleep. “One day…your life is going to flash before your eyes…I hope you enjoy watching it…just like I did,”

And those were his final words. His eyes closed, and he was gone.

Blakely sat in the pale meadow, staring at the pale corpse that lay in front of him. It seemed as if time had never passed since the man had fallen asleep. The light in the world dimmed, and all he could see and remember was what lead up to such an… end.

The tears spilt. It spilt into a hot, nasty rage. He screamed into the nothing that surrounded him; fueled nothing but the rage and anger. Anger towards his mentor, for having to lie to him! Anger at himself for not realizing it! His screamed fueled his insides. Fueled it till he felt as if the world should burn, do nothing but burn.

And that’s what he did; he burned the meadow, the pale meadow, until there was nothing left to burn. Everything except the body his friend.

That memory…it was suppressed. Ignored. Yet it came about like a hurricane to a small town- unexpectedly and uninvited. Why had it reemerged now? What reason did his mind have to stop ignoring what he did not want to remember?

His mentor’s words echoed in his mind.  “One day…your life is going to flash before your eyes…I hope you enjoy watching it…just like I did,”

He was not going to enjoy it. His last days were spent in jail, sitting and bidding his time until he could act. Until he could escape, or die trying.  

Then he heard an irritating noise. A baton clanging against the metal pole of the cell. Blakely found it not amusing unlike guard in front of him. A lopsided grin formed on the man’s face. “Your trial has been moved up to next month. The interrogator will also be seeing you next week.” With that, the guard left.

Unhappy, angered, and guilt-ridden, his life would flash before his eyes and Blakely would squeeze them shut. But now, he could see it all straight. His day of escape had drawn closer than ever, and fit his plans all the better. “Excuse me!” He shouted.

The guard came back with a look of impatience. “I’d like to make a call.”

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The psychiatrist was truly satisfied. He had gone from the insane man who had killed people to a rather normal human being. The only part was that, within the past week, he had a sudden breakthrough. Guilt and unbridled anger had shown up in him.

He yelled and then sulked for a good two hours. Depression, not even a day later, had taken in. Finally, after all this time, his mind had reset. In seven months, he had completely changed, and then, in a week, reverted back to his former self.

Blakely, unbeknownst to her, had faked and acted so finely. It was quite the artistic performance he had put on for the past week.

Of course, there was the one piece that he was missing! He had to fake “snapping”.

They would realize that they were wasting time and resources, sheltering a man who would have a breakthrough, reset, snap, and go through the process again. His interrogation would be moved up along with his trial.

The trial was of no importance. The interrogation, on the other hand, was to be much more beneficial.

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