"The Man Who Sold The World - Part One." — Character Dev.
Nov 15, 2021 17:17:54 GMT -5
RYAN YOUNG and Alyssa Grace like this
Post by Jason Long on Nov 15, 2021 17:17:54 GMT -5
[ CONTENT WARNING: DRUG USAGE, DESCRIPTIONS OF SUICIDE, PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. ]
'Cause I've died inside a thousand times
But still I'd kill myself for you
'Cause the truth of it, you could slit my wrists
And I'd write your name in a heart with the hemorrhage
— “Die4U” by Bring Me The Horizon.
———
But still I'd kill myself for you
'Cause the truth of it, you could slit my wrists
And I'd write your name in a heart with the hemorrhage
— “Die4U” by Bring Me The Horizon.
———
‘The forever champion.’
It seemed like a brilliant concept at first, it seemed like something that could stick and last for a long time, because that's all that Jason could ask for as a champion. To fight forever. To fight until his dying breath. To live until the championship was ripped from his bare hands. It seemed like it could go on forever. It was meant to be forever. But now? Forever seemed like an impossibility. Forever seemed like it was never meant to be. A dream lasting forever was never going to happen—and they made sure that was never going to happen. All of this truly felt like the fall of a king and the rise of an axis power that didn’t seem to be soon stopping. But that's what they wanted. That's what they sought out for. To be that axis power that ruled over the land, and like the great leader back in the 1940's? He conquered and he ruled. Power over everyone.
He was a controller. Tear down the walls and let everyone become his victims. That– he made sure was a possibility. With Bloodbath coming to a close, to an end, to a screeching halt— there was nothing left of Fallout. There was nothing left of the brand that Jason Long once held onto with great pride and leadership. All that was left was a supposed true society, a new bringing to what human life was drawn out to be, and if he couldn't hold the crown against those with the first shot fired– then what purpose did he really have? What was he meant to do? What was his next motive? The next line of fire, what was it meant to be with nothing to fall back on? All that was left with Jason was emptied words, hollowed promises, and a void of darkness. A deep, dark void that has hovered over his head for a while now since Bloodbath. And it’s all because of him. Arik Holt.
It's been a couple of days since Jason has been seen — or even heard from — and the days since Bloodbath have passed has taken a heavy toll on him. Both physically and mentally. OWA's Hardcore Havoc did not go as intended. Bloodbath didn't go as intended either. All of the hope that was once there within him? Gone. Forgotten. Left abandoned without a chance of ever coming back. Finding himself inside of a bar within the city of Philadelphia, a seat taken at the table that Jason shares with only himself with a drink in his hand as he goes for a mouthful but soon contemplating it– stopping for a moment before putting the drink back down onto the table. At that moment, he felt sorry. He felt disgusted with himself. Only a few hours ago, an argument broke out between himself and Savannah. An argument that he clearly wishes to forget ever happened. Not because of how 'out of hand' it got, not because of how 'small' it was, but because of what it really made him see. A different side to himself. Because at that moment, he thought about him. He thought about Arik. How much he wanted to beat him down, how much he wanted to abuse him, willing to do jail time for the pain and the suffering that he has brought onto Jason and those around him.
And what hurts now is Jason’s choice of actions. Turning to the drink. Using alcohol as an excuse to forget. The past year has been tough on him. Though he won't admit to it because he wanted to seem like the person that's living the perfect life— his mental health has been shot down and broken so many times. That question of how much longer must he suffer for seemed like it popped up every wrong turn that was taken. Was this the road he was going to take? Was this a road he had to take? Did life send him down a deep, dark road of despair and depression? Feeling like he's at rock bottom. Feeling like there's nothing left. The world has become emptied. Gone mad. All because he fucked up. Not once, not twice, but so many times. Might have lost count after a while. And now he looks at himself and sees himself, from the past however as he reminds himself of how he was when he was first diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Feels like a rewind through time.
Right back where he started fourteen years ago. And that was a tough reality to soak in.
“Hey,” a voice broke his focus.
As he lifted his head up, he spotted this man. Tall, slim-built, dark hair. Looked like your average everyday white man in their twenties. There wasn't really much to him, there wasn't anything that Jason had for him, as he simply shrugged him off. The man didn't move however and took a seat right across from Jason -- just to make sure that he had his space.
"The fuck do you want, mate?" Jason questioned, his tone raised.
Aggression was turned to the max as his teeth gritted with one another. But with one look at the man's face, he notices the mistake he made. Noticing the problem he might have caused. At that moment, all he could feel was apologetic but even then– he couldn't.
"Hey now, relax. I'm just one of the barmen here. Came to see if you're doing good or not, a colleague of mine noticed you weren't looking too great and then I saw it too. Looked like you were zoned out for a good five or more minutes," a pause. "Is everything alright with you? Do you need us to phone for a ride home—"
“Nah, mate. You’re good.” he said. “I’m not from here locally, and besides- this is my first drink of the night. I promise you, I ain’t worth the trouble. I’ve just had a rough day and all that, it’s nothing.”
Though the man thought of moving along with his night, he stops for a moment and sits right back down to where he was. Jason, however, takes a gulp from his pint glass of alcohol. That bitter taste is left on his lips as he brings the glass back down onto the table, licking his lips as he looks at the man with a bit of confusion.
“Would you like to talk about it?” he questioned.
“I’d rather not. Like really, it’s not worth the conversation—”
The man soon interrupted, “-but please, I’m all ears. The night is young and I’m not too busy to get to know someone new. Let’s talk, throw in your two cents on anything, and we can talk about it.”
There’s a moment of silence, a moment of a pause, as Jason glanced towards the man and then back down to the watch on his wrist. The night was indeed young -- quarter-past nine to be exact -- and Jason had almost a full pint in front of him. He had time. Though having to listen to a random stranger about throwing in his own two cents on any matter seemed like bait. He knew that'll be a way for Jason to talk. At this rate, Jason just gave up trying to dodge any kind of conversation.
“Look, mate. I’m just trying my best to enjoy a drink that I’ve needed considering the kind of fuckin’ day I’ve had,” he exclaimed, standing back up and looking down onto the man. "If you don't back the fuck off away from me soon, I will knock your arse down onto the floor and let me tell you, we're going to find out which hits harder. Your head bouncing off the wooden floor or the foot of the paramedics hitting the pedal and going fuckin' ninety down a highway because I've put you HOOKED UP TO AN IV LINE AND BEATEN YOU TO A BLOODIED FUCKIN' PULP."
His voice echoed throughout the entirety of the bar, everyone inside of there was able to hear the sudden outburst from Jason, and they all stared at him. They continued to stare a hole into him – like literal daggers being pointed right at his neck – and at that moment, he felt uncomfortable. He felt sick to his stomach.
"I think you should leave these premises right now, sir." The man soon stood up, coming eye level with Jason and staring right into his soul. Not taking too kindly to the threat that was opposed towards him. "You've caused quite enough of a scene. I would like for you to leave right now. Please, just leave and never come back."
The tense look in the eyes of the man as he points towards the door gives Jason a chill down his spine, and although his blood was beginning to boil on the inside, and his grip around the pint glass was getting tighter— he places the glass down onto the table and grabs his jacket, heading out of the bar and back onto the streets of Philadelphia. The night life around the streets of Philadelphia was loud, vibrant, and seemingly out of control as some of the young bystanders were around for their parties and drinks. All that Jason could do was watch from the distance, taking a deep inhale before moving along down the sidewalk. This time that he had to himself gave him a clearer mind to think about his actions throughout the day as he strolled through a nearby car park and headed for his Audi R8 vehicle, it seemed to have been made more clearer that he was in the wrong all of these times.
To think that he was in the wrong with his argument earlier with Savannah, it seemed pretty damning. Considering that the conversation was almost based around her liking towards Arik Holt, it made him wonder if he was doing enough to keep her interested. Was anything that he did enough to keep her entertained and interested with him or was someone like Arik looking to prove to have been more interesting? Hell, what did she see in someone like him? What did she see in someone like Arik - who had already attempted murder on someone she called ‘her lover’ - and what was not clicking in Jason’s mind that she could see herself? All of this could have been easily described as jealousy but at the same time— something just wasn’t adding up and something just wasn’t right about any - or even all - of this. Something wasn’t right. And he needed to find out what was going on.
As Jason opened the car door and hopped into the driver’s seat, shutting the door behind him and looking out of the windshield in front of him, he took a deep breath and placed his hands down onto the steering wheel. And all he did whilst he sat in the car, in this darkened alley with very little to no lighting except for the light that came from the dashboard of the car, was sit there in silence and darkness. There wasn’t a thought running through his head, there wasn’t a single thing that he was focused on, and his phone rested face down on the dashboard. No way of contact, no way of finding any kind of update on his current situation. He didn’t want to check in on Savannah, he didn’t want to annoy her during her time of despair and sorrow, and he didn’t want to put further damage onto what was already there after earlier events. And that began to hurt him internally. Not physically, but mentally.
Though he might not feel it yet, his mental health was about to hit a rough decline. The engine of the car soon started as he turned the key, his foot pushed down on the pedal as the car’s engine revved up, and Jason pulled out from the car park, bringing him out onto the streets of Philadelphia before cruising down the main streets as he headed for home.
Alone.
Ring-ring, phone call from depression
You used my past and my memories as a weapon
On the other line, I talk to addiction, huh
Speaking of the devil, all the drugs, I miss them
— “Wishing Well” by Juice WRLD.
———
You used my past and my memories as a weapon
On the other line, I talk to addiction, huh
Speaking of the devil, all the drugs, I miss them
— “Wishing Well” by Juice WRLD.
———
For the most part, it’s been a day or two since Jason was last seen by anyone. All of this time that he has spent inside of The King’s Penthouse and keeping himself away from any kind of civilization, the only people that would come to check on him were those who’d be on security at his front gate at the bottom of the hill, making sure that he was alright and alive as again— it was another day of keeping himself away from anyone. As he threw a small chunk of wood that he chopped up and threw into the fire that burned in the living room quarters of the penthouse, he could feel a presence nearby. He could feel something — or maybe even someone — behind him. A quick glance as he turned his head around gave him a sigh of relief, nobody seemed to have been behind him at all. Though that couldn’t have been, he thought he heard something behind him. Maybe he might have been imagining things. Spending all of this time alone was bound to begin messing with his mind once again.
He’s not heard from Savannah in a few days, but he has been keeping up with her tweets that she has been putting out every so often, and some of them just seem to piss him off every single time. Then again, maybe that’s what she thought of doing. Making all of these tweets to grab his attention and to try and make his blood boil a little, it’s like she knew what she was doing to try and get under his skin. And it damn sure worked. Just yesterday, he had thrown the ring that she had bought him for his birthday into the bin. Everything between the two seemed like a promise broken, something unfaithful was happening and Jason didn’t like it one bit. Even if it has been a couple of days since then, Jason just can’t seem to wrap his head around how any of this happened. He can’t wrap his head around the whole concept of her and this psychopath that she could somehow see something good in.
The whole concept seems so out of place, but yet, it’s real and it’s happening right in front of his very own eyes— but he does nothing to stop it, maybe he waits and see what comes from any of this, to see if this was just a wonderfully and yet horribly executed plan for payback and revenge or — in some worse case scenario that comes out of this — something more, and something to jeopardize everything that Jason and Savannah once had together.
And that was crushing him on the inside.
Jason hovered over his favourite chair, that same leather recliner chair that most people commonly see in his vignettes where he’s seated, and right beside that chair was a small table with a bottle of Jack Daniels with a glass half emptied. Right beside that bottle however? A small bottle of paracetamol, knocked over and almost emptied. He let out a sigh before turning his body around and falling right back down into the chair, his arms flailing up into the air before dropping back down onto the arms of the chair. Defeat has never felt like this before. Defeat was never taken so for granted like this before. There’s something not right about Jason. Then again, can anyone blame him for the past twelve months that he had? He had to fight to take his life back, he had to endure the murder of his own mother, enduring the final demon he had to fight against, and having to fight for some respect to be put onto his name. His mental health was already in a horrible state due to his past as a child, but this year has been the worst that it has been since he was sixteen, and nobody has had a clue what he’s been going through in his head.
He’s been bottling up all of his emotions for quite some time and when that bottle breaks? He’s taking it out on himself. Alcoholism, drug overdoses, suicide attempts. He’s been through it all for the past couple of months. But with everything happening to him right now, it feels as if everything has hit him like a truck once again and that bottle with all of those emotions he’s had? It’s broken once again.
It’s kind of like a play on that old saying. ‘When a bottle breaks, another bottle opens.’ And the almost emptied bottle of paracetamol is the perfect kind of example as he picks up the small white bottle, examining the labels and reading the recommended doses that should be taken. ‘Two pills to be taken every six hours’, but he’s damn sure that he’s taken more than that within the past four. And that makes him laugh. Almost sadistically. But he’s soon interrupted with the sound of the front door opening, making him stop laughing and watch the doorway out into the hall, hoping to see Savannah walk around the corner and find him in this horrible state that he’s succumbed to— but his smile soon turns to a frown, seeing his brother walk around the corner with Kit standing right behind him. The couple couldn’t believe their eyes, seeing everything had been wrecked and thrown around the place, but yet the only thing that seemed to have kept its place was the chair that Jason was sitting in right now.
“Are- are you alright?” Nathan shakenly questioned.
Nathan seemed to have been speechless seeing the state of the living room and Jason, as he took a few steps forward and observing the wreckage around the room and the rest of the home, none of this was right and none of this was natural. This wasn’t normal for Jason. But neither were aware of the situation that happened a few days prior, they couldn’t have understood what was going through Jason’s mind at this moment. Nathan and Kit looked to one another with concern resting on their faces, whilst Jason was just sitting in the chair and hadn’t moved an inch. He hadn’t even answered Nathan’s question yet. But sweat was beginning to pour down his face, it’s like his nerves had kicked in.
Nathan soon came around to the side of Jason’s chair, the distance between one another was separated by the small table that was there, as he crouched down to be head level with Jason in the chair. In that moment that Nathan was levelled with Jason, he took notice of what was on the table. Seeing the half-emptied glass of Jack Daniels in front of him, seeing the opened bottle that was just resting there, and then bringing his attention down onto the last few pills of paracetamol that were left down on the silver tray. If he wasn’t shaken enough before, he is now. Nathan lifted his head up and looked towards Jason, seeing the sweat pouring down his face as he grabbed a cloth that rested on the other arm of the chair and wiped down his forehead.
“What the hell have you been doing to yourself, Jay?” again, he questioned.
Still startled by the scenes surrounding him and seeing the pills left down on the tray beside the bottle of Jack Daniels. Nathan looked up and saw Kit standing there by the fire, her hand — covered up by her oversized cardigan — was placed over her mouth as she soon started connecting the dots and realising what had been happening whilst nobody was around. This felt like a traumatic moment for the two, but Nathan has seen his brother in this state before, a very long time ago.
“Kit, can you please just wait outside for a moment please, I need to speak with him in private.”
She obliged, slowly creeping around all of the mess and bringing herself out of the home. And now it was just the two siblings left, alone and yet together again. “Talk to me, Jay. Please. I just wanna know what’s wrong, man. I’ve not seen you in such a horrible state since-- you know. Since we lost our grandparents. I had to make sure that you wouldn’t go down that road when mam died.”
“It’s not about her. I swear. I promise. If anything, she’s been the last of my many problems,” he exclaimed, taking a deep breath. “There’s just something… it’s just not sitting right with me. I just can’t bring myself to find out why. Been taking it out on everything except for that. Hell, been fuckin’ taking it out on myself because I feel like the problem, I feel like I’m causing too much to happen and I’m letting things fuck up somehow.”
Nathan brought his hand gently down onto Jason’s as his grip onto the leather got tighter.
“Take it easy, Jay. Slow down. Tell me what happened in your own time. You know that I’ll listen, I’ve been there for you when you’ve been in these moments of despair, just like how you were in mine.” Nathan soon pushes the table out of the way but he’s stopped, Jason grabs onto his arm with a firm, tight grip onto it. This wasn’t like Jason at all, this wasn’t the same kind of man that Nathan knew to be his brother, there’s something seriously wrong with him. “Jay, can you please let go? Like, you’re seriously hurting me now.” he spoke, trying to pull his arm away.
“Don’t take that away,” his response felt cold. There was no true tone to his voice, just a deadpan expression as he looked up to Nathan. “I wasn’t finished with the bottle.”
“I can’t let you finish that bottle, Jay. You’re going back down that road and I just can’t let you do that again, I can’t afford to see you walk down that road again.” There’s a tear slowly crawling down Nathan’s face, his voice soon beginning to stutter, and seemingly not able to grasp onto his own words “Not- No, not after the last time. I’m not looking to see my brother head into an early grave, for fuck- fuck sake.”
As he kept the grip on his brother’s arm, Jason pulled himself up to his feet, keeping his eyes focused on Nathan’s. He tries to pull away, becoming scared of the situation that he’s in right now, and fearing for his own safety along with Jason’s. Nathan began to try and yank his arm back and out of his grip but Jason just kept a hold of him, looking shaken and in a horrible state, as he continues to pull himself in closer towards Nathan--but he soon had enough and pushes Jason back down into the chair, almost making him fall out of it from the force of the push. Almost like a state of shock, Nathan is left with his mouth widened. He wasn’t expecting Jason to be so easily taken down like how he was.
Jason was able to pick himself back up and brush himself down, looking towards Nathan before grabbing onto the bottle of Jack Daniels, glancing over towards his brother and then back down at the bottle. It was like he was examining it, almost juggling it in his hands and then grabbing onto it's neck. But there's something about the look in his eyes, there's something about the look that he's got that makes Nathan feel uneasy. There's almost like a half-smile, slowly creeping into the shape of an evil smirk, that makes Nathan take a step back. That makes him become almost frozen in place. It's like he wasn't staring at his brother. It was like he was someone else. Maybe it was the alcohol that was making him act this way. Maybe it might have been the paracetamol that could have taken some sort of effect.
But in a flash, he could feel the edge of the bottle colliding with his forehead. Almost cracking the bottle open, but enough to cut into his skin. Nathan - taking the full effect of the blunt force trauma - collapses onto the floor in an instant as his head bounces off of the wooden flooring below. Jason had struck his own brother in such a sickening fashion, but yet it's not clicked into his head just yet, it's like he has no clue what he has just done to his own flesh and blood. Kit rushes into the room and finds her lover laid out onto the floor, blood pouring down from where he was struck but he soon shakes it off and in that moment, he leaps back onto his feet and tackles Jason. The two engage into a fight. Throwing punches at one another, rolling around onto the floor to gain the upper advantage, and Kit could only stand there and watch as they beat one another to a bloody pulp.
Jason tries to reach for the bottle but Nathan kicks it away, and that's when Jason is able to get the upper-hand and sweep the legs of his brother. Knocked back down onto the floor again, Nathan has become helpless as Jason mounts and begins to lay down the punches. Punch after punch, his knuckles became bloodied, from both his and his brother’s. They became bruised. If he continues on, bones might begin to break. Nathan isn't isn't covering up, taking every single hit to the face as Jason begins to scream with rage, but he's soon pulled off by Kit- almost tackling him down to make sure that Nathan is safe. It's at that exact moment that Jason finally comes to his senses and looks down at what he has just caused. It's almost like a state of shock. Seeing his own brother looking completely defeated and beaten due to his own heinous - but yet uncontrolled - acts. He couldn’t feel any more disgusted with himself than how he is right now. He couldn’t feel anymore disturbed with how much he carried on and attempted to maim or even kill his own brother. None of this should be real, none of this should have happened, but it did and now the instant regret is hovering over Jason’s head.
Kit grabbed onto Nathan and began to help him back up to his feet, he’s still shaken up with blood in his eyes as Kit wipes it away so he could see. The two brothers stare at one another, blood all over them and on their clothes, as Kit stands between the two to make sure that they won't swing for one another again.
"Whatever was said, whatever happened, I don't know exactly–" she pauses, glancing at both men. "But I'm sure that it shouldn't have escalated to the case that it was. And you, Jason." Pointing towards his direction, poking him in the chest. "Don't you understand what you've caused? Beating down your brother like that and nor even thinking for a second to stop and allow it to soak in that what you're doing was wrong? What the heck is wrong with you? Bottles of whiskey, medication laying all over the place, the house in a shambles. I don't know what happened between you and Savannah but this is not right. Taking it out on someone else isn't right."
It was bad enough that Jason was already feeling guilty for it, but being told that it wasn’t right was hurting in a different kind of way, knowing that others had to see it happen before their very own eyes was a tough challenge. Even hearing Savannah’s name right now is making him feel weak. What if she had seen him in this state? What could that have proven to her? What could any of this have proven to her? That he had become an entirely different person? Turned to a more violent and abusive kind of man? She wouldn’t have needed that. Something like that would have kept her away from him longer, if not forever.
"You need to fix yourself up. Imagine if Savannah was going to walk through those doors right now and see you in the state that you're in right now?" She questioned but all she got in response was silence, his head lowering in shame. "That's what I thought. Just know that the next time you try to have a breakdown like this."
Nathan stood there, blood still pouring from his wound as he constantly stumbled around to keep his balance on his feet, only to find himself leaning over Kit to make sure he’s got his balance. The entire time, he did not take his eye off of his brother. His teeth began to grind against one another, heavy breathing through his nose as he fought through the pain he’s feeling right now.
"You're a fucking asshole. Here I am trying to take the bottle away from you and you decided to clock me over the fucking head with it. Like some sick bastard you are, attacking me when I wasn't expecting it. You're a fucking coward, that's that's you are." Nathan stumbled forward. "Is that who you are now? A fucking coward? A fucking lowlife scumbag? A fucking drugged up bitch that's hiding his emotions?"
"Nathan, please. Stop it." Kit calmly spoke, putting her hand to his chest.
His glance towards Kit is damning. If she thought that’s all he had on his chest, then she was going to be in for quite the shock. All of the pent-up anger from the past eleven months was about to break out in a storm. All of the fire that’s been burning deep within his heart was about to ignite a fire right underneath his own brother. And at this rate, he couldn’t care less how far he would have to go with his words. He meant every single word he spoke.
"It's because of people like you that our own mother is dead. Hell, it's because of you that she's dead." Jason is taken back by the comment. Nathan stares right into his eyes with a stern look. "And honestly, I'd rather have her here than you. Maybe you should have taken the hit instead of her."
"I said stop! Just stop it! Let it go, you've done enough talking." She said as she pushed him away from Jason. "Let's just go home. We've overstayed our visit long enough."
"Yeah. You're right. But that's fine. We're never coming back here again. Fucking asshole of a brother he is—"
"ENOUGH!" her voice raised as she pointed towards the front door.
That’s all he needed to hear from her to finally keep his mouth shut. Of course, he knew how far he was going to be taking things, he knew how much it would’ve hurted Jason, he knew how much those words would’ve impacted him deeply. That was the whole point of it. Kit and Nathan soon walked out of the home, shutting the door behind them and then? Silence. Nothing but the deafening silence as Jason stood there, still being taken aback from the comments that Nathan made, as his hand reached towards his chest and was placed where his heart was. Was this a form of heartbreak? Knowing that you’ve been completely disowned by your own family, your own flesh and blood, by your own brother?
A singular tear soon began to fall down from Jason’s face, down onto the floor below, as he soon fell right back into his chair - now with the additional blood stains from the fight - as he just sat there in silence. With more tears running down his face. Nathan might not have won that fight physically, he might not have won that fight through pure emotion, but he won the fight against him mentally. If there’s one way that Nathan knew how to win his fight with him, it was through his already declining mental state of mind. It felt like a cheap shot, a low blow, a knife lunged into his back.
Jason stood back up and walked through the carnage of his living room and out to the hall, from there he moved towards the bathroom right across from the master bedroom, entering and staring at himself in the mirror. His shirt is a bloodied mess, something that he quickly removes upon seeing how rough it looked. As he spat into the sink below, he took a look down onto his hands. The obvious bruising can be seen and so can the blood from Nathan, something that he is quick to wash off with the running cold water from the tap. It’s like he can’t stand to see himself in the state that he’s in right now. But it’s he who brought this onto himself. The attempted suicide, the out of control behaviour, the traumatised aftermath. All of this was caused by himself. He has nobody to blame but himself.
As he glances up towards the mirror, he looks directly into his own reflection. In his mind, he’s telling himself to punch the mirror because he doesn’t want to see himself in such a state. His right hand is gripped down onto the side of the sink, the grip getting tighter as his mind continues to tell him what to do. But he soon pushes himself back against the wall. Again, more tears began to fall from his eyes. His breathing began to turn heavier again. And then, he falls down onto the floor, sliding down the wall and finding himself in a fetal position on the bathroom floor. Those droplets of tears turned into a full-on crying session. It’s all hitting him at once.
All he could feel right now is regret. All of the regret for how he treated Savannah poorly. All of the regret of treating his brother the way he did. All of the regret of not being able to save his mother like Nathan brought up. Regret for all of the wrongdoings that he’s had in the past eleven months. Regret for everything that’s ever happened within his life span. After all, everything was his to blame for. Everything was because of Jason. Everything was because of him. All of this would never have happened if it weren’t for him existing. Blaming himself for every single wrong in his life is such a tough pile to put onto yourself, but Jason was able to feel exactly that, and now he’s trapped. His head is filled with dark thoughts. A mind filled with problematic voices telling himself the same thing over and over again. Maybe he should have finished the job when he was sixteen, maybe he should have finished the job when he was twenty-one, maybe he should have finished the job a couple of months ago.
Maybe he should finish the job tonight.
