shotaloli_jack induced Nightmares [narration]
Liberia. The late 80's. Dirty sounds of war, no different than the day before. A man towers over me. I can't identify who he is but I know he knows me. His lips curl around his graying mustache and beard into an equally familiar grin. His breath smells of cigarette smoke and death.
"Happy Birthday, Ripper." He hands me a knife, perfectly sharp from hilt to tip. "Here, it's yours." There is a prisoners lined up for execution sitting in the dirt, arms and legs bound. Their life is in my hands. I feel no remorse for what I'm about to do.
He tells me, "Now, blow out the candles." Ten of them. One for each year of my life.
He called them Liberian terrorist scum. He tells me they've killed innocent Americans. That they deserve to die. I don't care. I only know what I have to do. I lightly caress the first person's neck with the edge of the blade, as though preparing for the first stroke of a shave.
"Jack..." The prisoner's also familiar voice somehow goes unheard, just a breath off their lips. Instead I find myself standing there like a puppet. Feeling it out, searching for just the right...
SLIKKT.
Ten. "That's it, boy. Keep going..."
This person. These prisoners. Nine. I realize as I strike them down that I know them. Her fluffy black hair, those mischievous eyes usually glistening with life are dull and cold now. I did that. "Blow them all out or you don't get your wish." I know I did that but I can't stop. Blood gushing from her fragile jugular splatters all over my face. The only sensation I can feel is, 'It's warm.'
Eight. I don't care. My wishes never come true anyway. I can't stop. I'm too good at it.
Seven. That was someone I wanted to be. I'm ten years old today and I don't care about anything anymore. "That's my little Jack the Ripper." This man... he seems so proud of me. Like I've known him for years. I don't care.
One prisoner has black hair and red eyes. The skin around her neck is softest of them all. I want to cry but I don't know how and I can't stop. The blood won't stop until their heart does.
Rose... Help me... stop me... I know you're there. You're supposed to be there... why aren't you there? Please help... someone... anyone... My memories are fragmented like puzzle pieces ripped into shreds. Somehow they're trying to find their way back together. It wants to make sense. I want it to make sense but I don't know what's real and what's fake.
There's a mixture of voices now. I almost can't make them out anymore.
"Who you gonna' believe? Me or these Patriot spies?" Who are you?
"I... I don't..." Who's talking?
"Lies, Raiden. All lies..." What are you saying?
The man grabs me by the collar and mouths something silent and angry. What did I do wrong? I can't hear him. I don't need to hear him to know my life is on the line.
"I... I don't... care. I don't... no... No!" Who am I?
"There's more to your story, Jack." ...Father?
I can tell this is just the beginning.