Categories > Celebrities > 30 Seconds to Mars > Just Playing Dead
He had barely seen anything of what had happened. The feelings inside of him came out darker and the fear came out more painful. He was alone in this. He knew that he was. This man was coming closer and he felt his entire wall of strength collapse around him. He was afraid of what would happen to him, afraid of the night that was slowly dawning outside of the windows. He wanted to scream for his brother, wanted Harlow. He wanted someone, anyone that would help him with this. He had a terrible feeling that he was about to die. That in a short matter of time his breath would be snuffed from him and nothing at all could revive him. Not his music, not Harlow’s arms. Nothing at all.
He nor the man said a word. Nothing broke the silence lingering between them. Nothing broke the terminal quiet that was so unsettling, so thick it was stifling. Jared was alone, Jared was going to die. Those were the words that the voices screamed at him in his head. The voices? There never used to be any voices. Where had they come from? They were a means for him to grab onto something, a way to release what fear was building inside of him. Someone had to save him. There had to be something, anything.
"Don’t kill me." He pleaded. The dull ache overshadowing the weakness of his soul. The thoughts in his head paralyzed in the depths of his mind. His lips were moving. He had so much to plead for and yet so little to live for. He had destroyed everything inside of him, everything in his life. He had wrecked every aspect of his life without so much as realizing it. Shannon thought he was crazy, his evidence was gone, Harlow was afraid of him. He had nothing. Nothing but empty fear threatening to suck away even the blood flowing through his veins.
The man didn’t say anything, he just stood there, staring at him. There was that sneering smirk, that heavy glare. Yes he had been waiting for this moment for months. He had needed it more than he had needed anything and now that it was happening in front of him all he felt was a sense of glimmering accomplishment. This was finally going to culminate into the end he had been pushing for this whole time. Jared wouldn’t fight anymore. His pleas were so weak they were nearly nonexistent.
Jared moved backwards, his back hitting the wall and his breath hitching in his chest. He was afraid. Too afraid. Too lost in his own chaos to be able to do anything else. He would rather take his own life than to have this man, this ghostly man take what little life he had left. He had no more room to back away. He had nothing but the subjection of himself to the man’s will. There was nothing else but darkness. He had too much of a taste of that his whole life when would he finally be rid of it?
The man moved silently forward, his steps stalking, daunting. His eyes were ablaze with the darkest and truest threats he had ever seen. His arms went up, hands resting flat on the wall beside Jared. “Look.” He whispered to him, reaching down and taking Jared’s numb hand in his. He skimmed his fingertips over his fingers, missing one completely. Jared’s brows tensed, confusion flared in his eyes. He wasn’t sure what was happening, if he wanted it to be happening. He was afraid of what the outcome would turn out to be. How did he not know that this man would not kill him what with him being so close to him?
"Does it still hurt?" The man questioned, his head tilting slightly, the light from outside whispering like shadows over his features. He stared still since Jared hadn’t answered. There was always such confusion. So much so that it crawled up the walls and created its entire atmosphere. "From when I cut it off?" He further explained, another sinister smirk reaching his lips as he held up the hand before Jared’s eyes. One was missing. Had it always been missing? Or had it always been there? Only realized now with the voices. All those voices.
"It does." Jared whispered, hissing as the thought tore through his mind. The blade had been so sharp, piercing, cutting through flesh until he ripped away his hand. He had to learn to live without a finger. He had to make himself make sense even without it. The thought ended with the searing pain. This man had been there, laughing while Jared screamed. All that blood. All of it staining the walls, the ground. All the blood.
As if the man had been able to read his thoughts he shook his head with a touch of disappointment before stepping away from Jared, his hand falling from his as disbelief shook the core of his mind. “You’re a stupid fool.” He angrily hissed out to Jared. His eyes large with emotion, his voice thick with disgust. There had been something about the memory. Where did the memories come from? Even when they were being suppressed. They rose up on you, choking what life was left before finally releasing you as a dim witted tiresome shell where the only thing you know is memory.
"KNOW ME!" The man shouted, his eyes wide and pained by Jared’s lack of communication. His hands were clenched at his side, his breathing was coming out raggedly. It was almost as if he were afraid standing there, locking eyes with Jared. Everything about the scene was disturbing. Not something he had been expecting what all. What had he wanted to known for? Known as? Jared couldn’t really recall, couldn’t imagine. This wasn’t the sinister man he had met, he had killed. This was someone completely different. This was a scared and trembling fool, crying because he’d been forgotten by someone who didn’t even know him.
He kept shouting the same words over and over. Jared felt around in his own pockets for anything at all that might subdue the amount of frustration and panic that was overtaking him. Inside he found his pocket knife. Where had that been? Why hadn’t he had it earlier today when he had needed it? When that nurse had forced herself on them? He lifted the suddenly full blade and dug it deeply into the man’s neck. Blood spurted out but his yells didn’t cease, didn’t stop, neither did his trembling. Screams escaped his lips when he saw the blood drenching his shirt and within it Jared’s screams sang out too as he felt his own blood come to the surface.
He nor the man said a word. Nothing broke the silence lingering between them. Nothing broke the terminal quiet that was so unsettling, so thick it was stifling. Jared was alone, Jared was going to die. Those were the words that the voices screamed at him in his head. The voices? There never used to be any voices. Where had they come from? They were a means for him to grab onto something, a way to release what fear was building inside of him. Someone had to save him. There had to be something, anything.
"Don’t kill me." He pleaded. The dull ache overshadowing the weakness of his soul. The thoughts in his head paralyzed in the depths of his mind. His lips were moving. He had so much to plead for and yet so little to live for. He had destroyed everything inside of him, everything in his life. He had wrecked every aspect of his life without so much as realizing it. Shannon thought he was crazy, his evidence was gone, Harlow was afraid of him. He had nothing. Nothing but empty fear threatening to suck away even the blood flowing through his veins.
The man didn’t say anything, he just stood there, staring at him. There was that sneering smirk, that heavy glare. Yes he had been waiting for this moment for months. He had needed it more than he had needed anything and now that it was happening in front of him all he felt was a sense of glimmering accomplishment. This was finally going to culminate into the end he had been pushing for this whole time. Jared wouldn’t fight anymore. His pleas were so weak they were nearly nonexistent.
Jared moved backwards, his back hitting the wall and his breath hitching in his chest. He was afraid. Too afraid. Too lost in his own chaos to be able to do anything else. He would rather take his own life than to have this man, this ghostly man take what little life he had left. He had no more room to back away. He had nothing but the subjection of himself to the man’s will. There was nothing else but darkness. He had too much of a taste of that his whole life when would he finally be rid of it?
The man moved silently forward, his steps stalking, daunting. His eyes were ablaze with the darkest and truest threats he had ever seen. His arms went up, hands resting flat on the wall beside Jared. “Look.” He whispered to him, reaching down and taking Jared’s numb hand in his. He skimmed his fingertips over his fingers, missing one completely. Jared’s brows tensed, confusion flared in his eyes. He wasn’t sure what was happening, if he wanted it to be happening. He was afraid of what the outcome would turn out to be. How did he not know that this man would not kill him what with him being so close to him?
"Does it still hurt?" The man questioned, his head tilting slightly, the light from outside whispering like shadows over his features. He stared still since Jared hadn’t answered. There was always such confusion. So much so that it crawled up the walls and created its entire atmosphere. "From when I cut it off?" He further explained, another sinister smirk reaching his lips as he held up the hand before Jared’s eyes. One was missing. Had it always been missing? Or had it always been there? Only realized now with the voices. All those voices.
"It does." Jared whispered, hissing as the thought tore through his mind. The blade had been so sharp, piercing, cutting through flesh until he ripped away his hand. He had to learn to live without a finger. He had to make himself make sense even without it. The thought ended with the searing pain. This man had been there, laughing while Jared screamed. All that blood. All of it staining the walls, the ground. All the blood.
As if the man had been able to read his thoughts he shook his head with a touch of disappointment before stepping away from Jared, his hand falling from his as disbelief shook the core of his mind. “You’re a stupid fool.” He angrily hissed out to Jared. His eyes large with emotion, his voice thick with disgust. There had been something about the memory. Where did the memories come from? Even when they were being suppressed. They rose up on you, choking what life was left before finally releasing you as a dim witted tiresome shell where the only thing you know is memory.
"KNOW ME!" The man shouted, his eyes wide and pained by Jared’s lack of communication. His hands were clenched at his side, his breathing was coming out raggedly. It was almost as if he were afraid standing there, locking eyes with Jared. Everything about the scene was disturbing. Not something he had been expecting what all. What had he wanted to known for? Known as? Jared couldn’t really recall, couldn’t imagine. This wasn’t the sinister man he had met, he had killed. This was someone completely different. This was a scared and trembling fool, crying because he’d been forgotten by someone who didn’t even know him.
He kept shouting the same words over and over. Jared felt around in his own pockets for anything at all that might subdue the amount of frustration and panic that was overtaking him. Inside he found his pocket knife. Where had that been? Why hadn’t he had it earlier today when he had needed it? When that nurse had forced herself on them? He lifted the suddenly full blade and dug it deeply into the man’s neck. Blood spurted out but his yells didn’t cease, didn’t stop, neither did his trembling. Screams escaped his lips when he saw the blood drenching his shirt and within it Jared’s screams sang out too as he felt his own blood come to the surface.
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