And so, nothing, he became.
Surrounded in a murky, black void, the absence of light left him weightless, suspended and neglected to drift endlessly. Body lax and mind whisper quiet, he stared blindly into the hollow nothingness, eyelids fluttering weakly as his mouth pinched into a twisted frown. Silence enveloped him, straining and shrill- and yet, oddly peaceful, the lack of noise emphasising the erratic throbbing of his heart.
Can your pulse spike if you don't have a heart?
Swallowing roughly, something hard and intrusive lodged deep within his throat, rasping dryly against the strain. Heavy, and blossoming dully with an odd, faraway pain, it radiated- throbbing throughout his core in an aching rush. Spreading through his body, the pain remained distant, a cooling numbness clawing deep within his muscles. Fingers curled stiffly, bones protesting against the experimental movement; as though it was not fully committed to his whimsical demands; as though it wasn't fully contained by the impulse of his control.
Has a puppet ever known control?
Thrashing uselessly, limbs flailed, feeling detached from his body as he struggled and rolled. Gasping dryly, more of the sludge filled his mouth, choking him as it slid down his throat in long thick trails of slime. Burning the back of his eyelids, a scorching heat spread across his chest, breath rasping in a chaotic mixture of desperation and goo. Trickling into his nostrils, a fuzzy tingling sensation buzzed at the back of his mind, tendrils wrapping grotesquely around his lungs- weighing them down in a dead man's grip.
Can you drown if you don't have lungs?
Screaming soundlessly, he surged up, little pockets of bright white erupting from his mouth. Gaze blurry, he watched as they wobbled, unstable in structure as they floated upwards- popping and bursting out of existence in a flash of faded light. Squinting, he nodded to himself, jaw set tight as he punched towards the supposed end. With a loud, ragged breath-a harsh cough racked his body, shoulders shuddering as everything started to burn from exhaustion.
Breaking through up to the surface, Tom flopped down onto the hard floor, curling up into a protective fetal position as he tried to suck in air. Mouth gaped open, a long series of ragged pants convulsed from his core, everything feeling distinctly wet and dry at the same time- hot and cold, empty and whole.
"Holy pogo stick at a tennis court," Tom whispered, absorbing the still very black expense, an overwhelming sense of loss reverberating through him.
A wide open space greeted him- dark, murky and whisper quiet. No hint of a structure revealed itself to him, the area far too large and far too dim to make out the outlines of any walls that may be present. There didn't seem to be any distinction between the pool and the solid ground he was currently resting on- which, in all fairness, seemed to sort of a dick move, the oozing water-like substance not dipping beneath his fingertips, no matter how hard he prodded.
With no sounds to speak of, Tom found himself unable to hear his own uneven breathing- the usual panicked rush of blood absent behind his ears. It left him feeling disjointed and wrong; unbalanced and-
And naked.
Very, very naked.
Why was he naked?
Symbolism, he guessed.
Cradling his ribs out of self-comfort, Tom slowly moved up to his knees, taking a few minutes of his time to scan his surroundings, no matter how useless the act itself was. Surroundings bringing no sense of purpose or nor a hint of possible direction, he sighed- the movement surprisingly empty without the noise of irritation that usually accompanied it.
A grunt of effort tumbled from his lips as he stumbled into an upright position, legs wobbling unsteadily on the sleek surface. Since the concept of left and right- up and down- and everything in between seemed no existent and absolutely useless, Tom picked a path at random, giving no thought to his aimless shambling.
Footsteps were sluggish and hard-earned; as though his entire body was pressurised, gravity heavy against his lumbering form. Bare Feet scraped against the floor, sweeping close enough to trip. A trail of thick ooze pulsated with every shaky stride, long ropes of oil black coiling around his ankles, seemingly guiding his direction.
"It didn't take long for you to take everything out of my hands." He mouthed bitterly, rolling his eyes as his knees jerked upwards robotically, "God forbid I control myself for once."
His petty snipes held no weight, thoroughly muted by the stiff atmosphere, just leaving him to stew in his own irritated silence. Roaming stiltedly, all he could do was bite his tongue and choke on his emotions, a slow-burning annoyance niggling at the back of his subconscious- for all he knew, he could have been walking in place this entire time, holding no progress, no afterthought and yet unwilling to take action towards the future.
Moving without a direction.
A working body but a broken soul.
Strings of a puppet, guided by an unreasonably cruel master.
In the land where metaphors became reality.
Tom had the sinking suspicion of who was behind this cockblocking shitshow- who else was petty enough, pretentious enough, to not go this extra mile and completely fuck up his day?
Personally, he would like to speak to the fucking manager; he was moody, lost and honestly, was going through his fifth mid-life crisis. Although, fortunately, or unfortunately rather- he had an even bigger suspicion that he was going to be meeting said manager.
Buckle up boyo.
It's going to be a wild ride.
Dramatic irony at its finest.
And then, just like that- the dam broke. A crack, or, a split within the universe perhaps- light and sound and everything suddenly rushing back, leaking out from the fracture, filling up the empty gaps in a tidal wave of life.
Overwhelming, it left him dizzy, vision unfocused and speckled with white dots. Swaying, he gasped, sobbing slightly when he realised that he could hear it, the echo that it gave off.
"Fuck me sideways-"
A couple of paces in front of him, a tiny flailing hand suddenly broke out of the surface. Fingers curling as it grasped fruitlessly at the air, they clearly struggled to stay afloat, thrashing messily within the thick black sludge. Breathless cries and choked off pleads for help were slowly being smothered, high-pitched in clear unadulterated fear.
"...with a rake?"
It came out hollow, twinged with building hysteria- eyes wide, Tom clenched his jaw, flickering his panicked gaze around for any hint of help or harm. When finding neither, he made a soft noise at the back of his throat, hands coiling into fists as he shuffled.
"Oh, this is SO a trap-" Muttering darkly, he felt his pulse shuddering in his ears, lurching forward at a high speed and quickly sliding down to his knees. Skidding almost painfully against the floor, he grunted dryly, attempting to make soothing noises as the helpless begging grew louder, more frantic.
Grimacing, he wrapped both of his larger hands around the slim wrists, clamping on tight as he started to heave. Listening to the other whimper desperately, it doubled his panic- a tingling anxiety resting high against his throat, feeling no absolute give to his harsh tugs, almost as though they were suspended in hardening cement.
"Don't worry- everything is going to be fine. You're fine, you're fine, you're-" He pulled again, the words of comfort tumbled messily from his lips as tears started to sting at his eyes. Hoping upon hope, that perhaps, if he said it enough times, it would actually begin to come true.
Heart in his mouth, Tom inhaled sharply, teeth set on edge as the hands started to grasp him back. Tiny ringlets sank into his flesh, nails clawing at his forearms, leaving trails of inflamed red across the surface of his skin. Hissing under his breath, he huffed out a few choice curses, feeling a falling swoop curl sickeningly in the pit of his stomach.
A sudden jerk made him gasp in surprise, the gurgling calls of terror falling unnervingly silent as he felt the body dislodge- becoming lighter somehow, easier to haul. Slowly, but surely, they shifted upwards, revealing the curves of a set of scrawny shoulders, a bruised pale neck and-
"No-" Tom breathed out in horror, expression pinched and mouth wobbling with grief, "Oh, God."
Staring back at him was the slack, deadened gaze of his younger self.
Head rolling limply to the side, the joints emitted a grotesque clicking noise, mouth gaped open into a silent scream. More of the same black sludge leaked out of his empty eye sockets, seeping from his crunched, broken nose and trickling around his soft swollen jaw. Clothes dirty, and obviously too big- they hung from his small frame, aged and pooling uncomfortably around his malnourished form, hair mused from the lack of acknowledgement nor care.
Overwhelmingly, the urge to vomit strained heavily from his core- and Tom squeezed his eyes closed, rapidly shaking his head from side-to-side in complete utter denial. Acid crept up his throat, hot and biting on his tongue, the image of the corpse imprinted on the back of his lids.
Dull pain flared up again, the small hands clamping down around him harder and coaxing him forward, the sound of heavy rasping breath ghosting close to his ear. Apparently, it was his turn to thrash- grunting and struggling to get away while fingers crawled to rest behind the base of his skull, digits curling through the dishevelled locks in a way that should be comforting, but really was the furthest possible outcome. It left them both in a stiff one side hug, one of them an abused corpse of a child, and the other, a naked fully grown man that was on the edge of spewing.
Something about this image seemed a bit not good.
"It was never our fault." Came the pained, slow whisper- lungs rattling dryly in a breathless wheeze.
Cringing outwardly, it set his teeth on edge- skin crawling in all the places that they touched. It took him a few more seconds than usual to process the sentence, unease twisting and disturbing the natural flow of his thinking. When the individual words sank in, each disassembling and reassembling in meaning, it still left him confused; unnerved.
"What-?" Came his thoughtless response, reluctant to turn his head towards the other for further clarity, voice cracking as he did so, "What was never our fault?"
Agonised breathing was the only reply he was given- and a stab of empathy surged through his chest. It was clearly difficult for the kid to talk, the possibility of his ribs being broken very probable considering his age and the era of experimentation.
"We didn't deserve it," The tone belonged to someone who had lived years beyond their physical age; their soul old, "And we did what we could."
Quivering, Tom swallowed audibly, "I don't-"
In one violent moment, a pair of large calloused hands punched through the liquidated floor, spraying globs of disgusting oil in every possible direction. Launching towards the both of them, Tom screamed in fright, ripping free from his younger self and scrambling backwards.
Flailing his legs out, he had enough time to see a clutch of strong digits wrap around the soft curves of Tommy's face, fingers cruelly stretching the skin near his empty eye sockets. Blunt, greasy nails hooked into the corners of his terrified mouth, scraping the sensitive gum and pulling him back into the ooze. Without much of a fight, his younger self-slipped backwards into the muck, mouth open limply in what might have been a scream.
Surging up again, Tom barely had the brain cells to process what he was actually doing- slamming his upper body into the floor as he grappled for the thin wrist. Clutching onto it in desperation, he could only watch in horrified silence as the small limb started to melt in his grip, morphing into a colourless sludge. It trickled between the gaps in his fingers, creeping down his forearm and staining his wrist- the dark tone standing out starkly against his bleached white skin.
"What the fuck." He gasped, it sounded thick from the shock and heavy block of tears.
Only having the energy to breathe, Tom laid still for what seemed like hours; naked chest pressed into the floor, the side of his face squished against the glass-like surface and one hand outstretched into a limp claw. Watching blindly as his digits twitched, he swallowed hard, feeling an empty pit ripple open inside of him- hollow, hungry, nothing.
Heartbeat pounding loudly behind his ears, he closed his eyes tightly, thumping his forehead against the ground. Lips pulled tight into a hidden snarl, he bared his teeth, hissing lightly as he shook his head from side to side.
Why? Whywhywhy-? Out of every distinct possibility in the unlimited universe, what in the hizzidy-heck was that? Did it have a meaning? A purpose?
"It wasn't our fault. It was never our fault."
"Not our-" Slumping further, he whispered the phrase, digesting and mulling it around in his mind, "Didn't deserve-"
"Sleep comes easier to those who are kept ignorant."
Shuddering, Tom shook his head again, the words heavy on his tongue and sticking to the roof of his mouth. A tirade of thoughts and barely suppressed memories rocked through his skull, rattling him to the core- weighing him down in a way that felt as though he were still drowning.
Face tightening, he did his best to shove the flickering bits and pieces of recollection back down within the murky depths of his conscious. A figurative key fitting perfectly into a mental lock, holding tough and closing tight- shutting away anything that threatened his stability, his balance, his throne of the Nile.
In a land of metaphors.
Eyes hard, Tom sucked in a steadying breath, tilting his chin to look up and-
Screamed like an absolute piss baby.
Again.
This was going to be a trend, isn't it?
Something was rolling towards him at a high speed, quickly advancing towards his face in a chaotic flurry of motion. Flailing his legs, Tom clumsily scampered backwards, skin scraping dryly against the floor. Throwing up his arms in a protective position, he squeezed his eyes shut again, curling his shoulders into a near ball.
A lofty thump landed by his feet, a scratchy sort of material just barely touching his toes. Opening his eyes in surprise, he looked down in confusion, only to see the long, velvety trail of a dark red carpet.
"Yeah, okay." Huffing partially in disbelief, he poked it uncertainly, flinching away as though it would burst into flames at any given moment. When it didn't spark to life immediately, Tom slowly unfurled his tense posture, sighing in equal parts of annoyance and relief, "What an absolute cock tease."
Scrutinising it for a second, he followed the far expense with his line of sight. Threadbare and stained, it spanned off towards a set of solid oak doors. Large and oval in shape, it reminded him of those of a church- or a chapel, maybe- intricate patterns carved into the dark brown wood.
Inching closer, the soft sound of bells rang louder- echoing its cheerful chime within the vacuum. A blinding white light started to slip out between the crack as it started to pull open by itself, the structure groaning with age. Soft pink petals spilt out of nowhere, scattering along his path in a warm, sweet welcome, circling around his ankles as he peered into the supposed other room.
"If I fall for a second trap, in as many minutes, I'm going to be so fucking disappointed in myself." Murmuring quietly, he peeked around the corner, body hunched and feeling oddly childlike in his meekness.
A polished marble floor greeted him, sparkling in its checkered glory, covering the circular room in a playful smattering of glittering black and white. Large pillars lined the walls, framing the rounded stage sitting innocently in the middle, illuminated underneath a singular spotlight. Dark and gleaming, it reflected back his ghostly white features like a vague, insatiable mirror- with the platform being raised several inches over his head. It was clear to view from every possible angle, the clear centrepiece of the room; a true spectacle to behold.
And oh, what a fucking display it made.
Shoulders splayed confidently, and feet spread, stood a lithe, grinning figure. Swallowing up the blinding light, it basked within the heavenly glow, sparkling gorgeously. Handsome and graceful, it was dressed in a form-fitting three-piece suit, the unique purple blend of its shirt meshing charmingly with the violet glow of its smirking eyes. A cane rested calmingly between its clawed grasp, aiding the powerful image- looking every inch of the posed and regal figure that Tom will never be.
Distantly, a deep-seated anger flared up within his gut at the irony, a heavy frown twisting at his lips as he stepped through the threshold. Squinting up his doppelgänger in a way he hoped was interpreted as disgust- but really looked like a dread-filled grimace, Tom tried unsuccessfully to fight the urge to fidget. A warped sense of vulnerability filled him; being figuratively and very literally, naked- he settled on wrapping his arms around himself in clear discomfort.
Definitely symbolism.
"Welcome to your mind, Little one."
--
A/N: This is part one of like, an 8k word chapter. I asked a friend about the length and they said that they wouldn't read something that was about 1000 pages long, lmao.
But yeah, anyway. I took a break- one that people have been suggesting for me to do for a while now. I didn't expect it to last this long, but I'm going, to be honest, I've felt really unmotivated to write lately. Between people stealing my writing, exams, school work and having panic attacks over update schedules- I was ready to quit life in general, to put it mildly.
This chapter's fanart was gifted from my child ! Who has done a few lovely arts for SP! Highly recommend to check them out, wink wink nudge _human_garbadge_
Thanks again! <3333
I've kinda lost track of fanart- so if I've missed anyone, I'm sorry. I'm a shite human being.