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The Sound of Letting Go


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Tiber Loche

Take this, it'll help you with.. Whatever is going on in there.

It was a nice concept. The woman behind the curtain had every intention of doing good by a near stranger. By Tiber. She'd notice the affliction almost immediately. The way he flinched every time someone moved too quickly. The mention of a too-violent conflict eliciting a concerned brow raise, though his words did not match his movements. There was a growing pain inside of him, and every day that it went unchecked it grew stronger, and destroyed more and more of his life until there was no life left to live at all.

Tiber had lost everything at the hand of Tiberius. Just as he had always feared.

He had a family once. One who had meddled in his life under the guise that they knew what was best for him. Maybe they'd had a better idea about how to handle it. If he had listened it was entirely possible that it would never had gotten this out of control. But they'd put Quinn in danger. The Den in danger. His brother lost his life, his cousin had died by his hand, and his mother was laying in a hospital bed awaiting her death as she breathed only by a machine, with an infection that the likes of their kind had never been known to bounce back from.

Tiber has nothing.

Yes, but how do I...?

The needle came without warning. It was at least three and a half inches long, and it pierced through his skin like a warm knife to butter. Into his flesh it sank, deep inside his neck until it struck the cord of his spine and tapped against his nerves in a fury that would cause him a greater pain than he had ever felt in his life. Every inch of him was on fire, his nerve endings igniting like a billion bolts of electricity had torn across the sky in a fit of static lightning.

When you're unconscious, you don't really dream. It's not the same when you're locked inside of your subconscious with no way to escape. Tiber doesn't remember having any one original thought while he was not awake. For the most part it felt like everything had gone black and he'd woken up mere moments later. At some point in his life he wouldn't remember one single bit of the pain that he had felt when the woman stabbed him with that needle.

When he woke up, specific memories surfaced quickly, like a dream when you get up out of bed in the morning. It's the only reason that he believed that the entirety of the three days he'd been unconscious had been but a private viewing of all the things he missed in his life. Tiberius James Loche. Front and center.

Quinn. Gidget. The clunky old truck he used to drive. The Doe's and The Den. Zarith, William, and Sol. That old Pumpkin festival in Upstate- The town his cabin had been in before he'd relocated. Before Moscow.

Before everything went to hell.

Your memories might seem vaguely unfamiliar to you for a little while. It's a side effect. You'll be more aware of the things that you did when you weren't you.

Tiber wished she would have spoken more quietly. There's a nagging sense in the back of his mind that warns him about how quickly the fog in his vision was going to lift, and the clarity he was experiencing would disappear just as fast. But the shallow itch in the back of his throat isn't there. There's no movement inside his veins; he can't feel his blood getting warmer as the feeling of total domination threatened to overcome him once again.

It's almost enough to bring a tear to his eye. In fact, it does.

It's a heavy anti-psychotic. Not now, or ever approved by any government agency. It's going to shorten your lifespan. It's going to weaken almost every aspect of your life. But it'll be just that. Your life.

Tiber's dualconscious had been nothing if not relentless. In a world where all people (human or otherwise) had prided themselves on their strength and capacity, Tiber had been fast to relinquish control over himself. He wasn't strong enough to counter the pain. His tenacity had withered fast. Too much of the world had stacked against him, and even the love of a good woman had not been enough to counter it's attacks.

So who is he now?

Now what?

I can't offer you anything else. It's all you now. Go. Go and start over.

Start over.

The match sandwiched in between his fingers had burned down so far that it had nearly singed the tips. He watches the bits of gold and orange dance against a blanketed white backdrop. No one had been out here since the last time Tiber had left, and so the snow was still as crisp and untouched as mother nature had intended it. The smell of kerosene stings his nostrils, soaking deep into the frost bitten wood of the cabin he had lived in when he'd first ventured out on his own.

He can almost hear the sound of Gidget's tiny patter coming up over the porch, excited to see Tiber after he'd disappeared for days during the full moon. They would share in whatever was left of Tiber's catch- Gidget paying no mind to the dirty floors and stale scent of blood.

He frowns. Tiber doesn't even know what happened to Gidget, but briefly hopes that he had a better life without him.

This has to be the first step, as dramatic as it had seemed. Starting over made the most sense to him when it came from a place of fresh starts. He's erasing parts of his past that can be erased. Places and things that would pull him back to somewhere that he had already been. There's no going back. Not now. There is only forward.

So Tiber throws the match, standing idly by as the creaky old cabin shot up into flames. It would be a while before it was completely destroyed, and this deep into the woods with no public access would mean that the likelihood of anyone reaching him fast enough to salvage the building were slim to none.

And that's just fine.
January 11, 2018 02:29 am
Actives (11) Fresh Blood (1) View All The Fallen (0) Graveyard
Katherine Murray, Yuri, Diego Kravenoff, W_Kat, -Midori-, Spring Taylor, Cristina Scabbia, Atticus Hammond, Lesprit, Mallory Quarters, Orangesrlife  Atem   
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