Chapter 7 Part 4

A Nightmare Reborn

Chapter 7 Part 4

This isn't the smell of love in the air, but one of lust, revenge, and betrayal. I sincerely doubt that Alice still believes me to be loyal to the case. She fully senses that I have not only gained air of her true intentions, but also that the prize she offers is not enough. She does not want to surrender easily, though. She knows that Sam had succumbed to the dangers of this mine. How can she not know? I have known that she had sent him here to be my bait for awhile. The demon that he had become was proof that she had not truly cared for him. He had been a beast for awhile. Alice had left him here to rot. She wanted to dispose of him, and I feel that, even then, she had not been in control of her own actions. What I had thought before, was entirely wrong. Alice isn't in control. She wants to apologize for what she has done to me, and it's obvious. She intends to try and sacrifice what could be her very life to try and stop Althia. Despite what she believes, she is still playing right into the old god's hands. Seeing Alice would only cause me to become weak. I know what Althia has planned. She intends to kill my resolve. Alice is an image of my forlorn desires. My fascination with her is clearly as sexual as it is psychological. If I live a life with her, I would feel that my life would not be in vain. Her age does not take away from her beauty. If I had her, I swear, damn it....no. I cannot be weak, and I will continue on, wishing to stay in a dream that is clearly a product of madness. Madness suits me only in taste. It would be only mad to want to stay here. Despite me yearning my sanity, why do I now believe I will stay here forever?

He knows what I am thinking. His eyes say everything. All of these last few moments, I have ceased to arouse his doubt. Gustaf is a man of wisdom, and he has survived as long as he has because of his gift, that being one of intuition. His ability to know what others are thinking, as I say, is uncanny. He knows what I want, the good father truly does. His murderous ways have not brought him out of touch with reality. Madness must be the true sanity, as I've never met a bigger madman than him. Who knew that such a friend could be the most stable of all? His demented demeanor is the product of what he has lived through, not his actual state of mind. For all of the battles he has fought, I am sure all of the ones of difficultly were only of spirit. Gustaf is not a weak man, at least in the broader sense of the term. His mind, albeit tired, was strong, much like his body. His spirit, however, is weary, and all can see this. Why he has not left me, I do not know, but it did make me realize one more thing. My final pondering of this serene moment was that, I, have some perceived worth, despite all of my own ugly doubts. I suppose I was the only one who still was holding on to the suspicious mind.

Neither of us had the intention of prolonging the inevitable. We both wanted this substantial middle encounter. Both of us thirst for it. Alice has left her calling card ahead, that strong aroma that had captured my fantasies since the first moment she had called me. The summoning she had given me then was nothing compared to the one pulling me in now. This beckoning, unlike before, was a loud ringing bell, one calling me, relentlessly in my head. It wasn't some distant want to become romantic with a client, as I had fancied so many times before. What I want now is to cut down Alice, to free her from where she lies. She is hung amongst the gallows, amongst a field of deprived souls. Her blackened lonely heart told of only one true calling, and that was to deceive mine, whether that be her choice willingly or not. All things have to die, as does our short charade. It has been drawn out long enough, though our matters are one of mere brevity. How intense I have made this Alice ordeal was something I will always be fond of, no matter how childish my feelings may be. A child is the only one who falls in love with a woman he's only known in passing. Maybe this is the true standard of men, as many are children by this mere and hollow realization. We don't want our hearts to be full of wasted emotion, but all men possess only so. No man, therefore, has ever been an adult with his emotions. No wonder men perceived as true discard all such things. As we finally both stepped forward to the wooden door ahead, which we knew was our only obstacle keeping us from the temptress Alice, I finally felt like what it is like to become a true emotion, as my heart became cold, dark, and empty. It must be if I am to kill her.