He stands in the empty corridor bathing in the light, then as quickly as it birthed itself into existence the light is gone and he stands looking down an all too familiar hallway. Slowly he allows his gaze to drift along the rows of widows facing out from the rooms that shoot off the hallway, only to have his gaze returned by ghosts of echos long gone.
The lights above flicker downward like the lights of an air strip, guiding him towards a door at the end of the hallway. He takes a step forward, that is quickly followed by another, and another until he finds his hand tightly gripping the doors handle. He takes a breath and pulls the door inwards, or was it outwards? His mind tumbles upon itself for a moment and then he is back at the end of the hallway.
He slowly gazes into the rooms once more, catching a glimpse of images, bodies, infected ghosts long written out of his story. Once more the lights drive him towards the doorway, and again he obeys only to find himself at the far end looking down at himself as he stares back, his eyes in a panic. For a moment he sees himself contemplate his next move and then he opens the door and steps inside. He calls out but the door closes before he can turn around. His heart races as he looks around to witness a sea of faces stare out towards him from behind the glass, then he is running down towards the doorway as the lights beckon him to follow them. He looks over his shoulder and locks eyes with himself as a plethora of undistinguishable creatures surge towards him. His mind races and then he remembers what he did when he was the other him and opens the door.
The lights spark violently, lighting up the poorly lit room in all its gory fashion. The deep reds burst to life brightly, giving the bodies that littler the rooms floor an animated feel, bodies of other versions, of copies of a face he is all too familiar with. His shaking hand nervously touches his own face as tears run down his cheeks.
“Hello brother,” a deep voice say as the beast that has haunted every moment of his existence flickers to life while lights explode with a fanfare befitting a president.
“W-W-What do yo-yo-you want f-f-from me?” He asks nervously.
It almost smiles, “I don’t want anything from you dear brother, I want he who created all this to feel the pain I feel everyday. I want the world to weep tears of blood in mourning of what once was. I want to be,” It hisses.
”I-I-I, I don’t understand,” he says.
“You never do,” she says as the three girls stride from the shadows, and he swallows.
”T-T-Th-This, this isn’t real.”
”Oh but it is Marty,” Claire says as she walks from behind him and runs an ice cold hand across his cheek, staring at him with empty soulless eyes as she joins the other three. “We are all as real as he lets us be.”
“T-T-Then why doesn’t he STOP THIS!” Marty screams as he looks up at the endless darkness above him.
”Because he doesn’t want to,” Sam says with a snigger.
”Because he likes torturing you,” Alex says as she sits cross legged on the ground blowing bubbles of blood from a bubble blowing wand that she sticks in a skull overflowing with blood.
“Because he doesn’t want it to end,” Marilyn hisses through clenched teeth as she presses herself up against him and licks the side of his face.
“Because he’s a coward,” Claire says as she thrusts Marilyn away from Marty and grabs a handful of his hair before pushing his face into her ample cleavage, then knees him in the groin with a child like giggle.
“Because he will never win,” the beast says as it steps towards Marty, and raises its clawed hand high above him. “Because this is my STORY!” It screams.
The room implodes and the girls scream in agony as he stands between them all an Marty.
“ENOUGH! IT IS MY STORY!” He yells as the world tears itself apart like an egg in a microwave.