Have you given your most?
Can you look yourself in the eye?
I am the streak of self pity
And I will drag you down into the bottomless.
Can you do it now?
Do you have what it takes?
I will show you what happens to fear when left to fester.
You will become everything you loathe and I will watch and laugh and cry and give.
You will crawl before yourself and bleed to me.
Drink from the peasants cup you fool.
You traitor. You fucking pathetic leech.
You will only ever take with you what you manage to break off.
Your life is formed in rock.
You belong to sorrow.
I’m going to get you…
The words had been painted and splashed across my lovely, wooden, bedroom floor. I think you can guess what they had used as paint. My cleaner had been carefully arranged to look like she was ironing. It was very clever actually! They used the broom sticks, one end drove through her feet and the other splintered through her thighs. Her abdomen was propped up with the chord from the iron, whilst the iron itself, still smouldering, had burnt into her chest and left a nice neat triangle. She was propped like an eerie manikin in a home department store.
Fucking Illuminati! They loved their symbols. I just wanted to know how they had managed to find me and just who exactly they thought they were dealing with?
Poor old Maria, I turned the iron off at the switch. My apartment was a fucking mess. And what was worse, now I would have to hire a new cleaner!!
I retrieved the sulphuric acid from the cleaning cupboard and began to fill up the bath when a creaking alerted me to the presence of something in the spare bedroom. Two things shot through my mind simultaneously. First, why did I not check the fucking spare bedroom and second, who the fuck would be so stupid? I carefully put the acid down, I didn’t want to get any of that shit on me. The creaking stopped, I strained my ears, can I hear laughing? I flipped around and sent my boot crashing into the door and took it cleanly off the hinges before stammering backward in shock. For what I saw was me, or a reflection of me anyway. In the briefest of moments I thought it was the Leviathan returned. I thought…oh I don’t know. Henry Game doesn’t get spooked, I am the one who does the fucking spooking!! But I definitely heard laughing, didn’t I? Anyway, I had to shake myself to remember, Henry Game was gone. Now I was The Anarchist. The white mask of anarchy had been left over Maria’s face as a clear message. The message was brutal and clear. It was only going to get worse, but what was more, I was kind of excited about it…