-
~~~ 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈 ~~~
There he is. Walking forward, like he’s got somewhere to be – talking to a fake friend, like he’s got something to say. It’s kinda funny, really… how he just keeps going, as if nothing’s wrong.
I mean, what’s he even doing? Failing, falling, getting back up – for what? What’s the point? I mean, why not just shoot shoot shoot the past? It’s not like he matters.
He’s smiling now, that faint, stupid smile. Does he even know? Does he realize what he’s done – what he’s done to me?
Maybe I should just shoot shoot shoot. It’s not like he’s innocent; he’s the reason everything feels so heavy – the weight that chokes every breath, the reason I’m stuck, trapped in this endless loop of regret and anguish.
Look at him: so weak, so broken, so useless, so undeserving of forgiveness – might as well just shoot shoot shoot him.
He’s the barrier; the wall between me and the future. I can see it glimmering just beyond him, pristine… almost within reach – yet he stands, always in the way. Always in the way. Always, always in my way.
Why shouldn’t I just shoot shoot shoot? He ruined everything – all his failures, all his cowardice – every time he wasn’t good enough…They’ve become my burden now, my shame, my CURSE.
I should just shoot shoot shoot – obliterate him – erase him completely – CUT him out of me like the cancer he is. How dare he smile? HOW DARE HE PRETEND to be innocent?
I just wanna shoot shoot shoot. He shouldn’t even be here – not in my present, not in my head. He doesn’t BELONG HERE. And he has no place in my future.
I just wanna shoot shoot shoot. I DESERVE BETTER. I deserve FREEDOM.
I just wanna shoot shoot shoot. I deserve to move forward – to live without the lingering shadow HE CASTS.
He shouldn’t be walking. He. shouldn’t. Be. Breathing.
I’m just gonna SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT – It’s time – TIME to END THIS –
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆
HA!
Look how he falls… Finally – THE PAST IS DEAD – DEAD! LOOK AT HIM – as he SMILES FOR THE LAST TIME – that faint, revolting smile – as if he forgives me.
As if I’m the one who needs forgiving.
BUT I DO NOT FORGIVE. NOT. HIM.
No… No, he DESERVED THIS.
~~~ 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐈 ~~~
Haha! HAHA! I’ve done it. I’VE WON.
The past is DEAD. Gone. Erased. Obliterated.
And now— now my future is FREE!
I laugh. I LAUGH. I can’t stop laughing. It spills out of me, wild, breathless, unstoppable.
The air feels lighter. The world feels brighter. The shadow is gone. The weight has lifted.
“Future!” I cry out, my voice cracking, my chest heaving.
“Do you see me? Do you see what I’ve done? I’ve killed the imposter! I’ve set us FREE!”
I take a step forward. Then another. And another.
“Future, oh future! I’ve DONE it for you! Have I made you PROUD? Are you HAPPY now?”
My heart races. My legs move faster. The world blurs around me.
But I see it— clearer than ever.
My FUTURE, standing there, smiling, radiant, perfect.
“Future!” I scream, raw, desperate, tears burning my eyes.
“Tell me— are you proud of what I’ve done? Are you proud of ME?”
I’m running now. Faster. Faster. The air rushes past me. My thoughts crash into each other.
And then—
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆
The sound— sharp, sudden, impossible.
I freeze. My legs stop. My breath catches.
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆
The future stumbles. The future falls.
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆
The future is gone…
No…
No, no, no, no, NO.
I CAN’T MOVE. I CAN’T THINK. I CAN’T BREATHE.
“No!” I scream. It rips out of me, raw, broken, mad.
“No! No, no, NO!”
I drop to my knees. My hands claw at the ground. My breath comes in gasps, in sobs, in screams.
“I FINALLY DID IT! I FINALLY FREED THE FUTURE!
HOW!? WHO!? WHO DARED TO TAKE MY PRECIOUS FUTURE!?
WHOEVER DARED— I’LL SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT THEM TOO! I’LL—”
My hands reach for my gun. My fingers tremble. My vision blurs.
But before they can touch it—
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆
The sharp pain explodes inside me.
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆
The blood pours out of me.
𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆
The life drains from me.
I fall.
I lie there, trembling, breathless, dying.
“Who?” I try to whisper. My voice is broken, faint, barely there.
“Who did this? Who killed my future? Who killed me? After I’ve finally set us free…”
My mind spins. My thoughts spiral. Every fading memory is a blur.
From where, came these bullets?
Why… are they so familiar?
Why— was I the killer?
~~~ 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ~~~
The present lies still now, his story ended. The echoes of his tragedy linger in the air, heavy, slowly settling, like dust after a storm.
Deception appears first, his form flickering like a thousand diamonds, sharp, beautiful, commanding. Reflection follows, her presence luminous and steady, her gaze full of sorrow, full of understanding, soft like a field of lilies swaying in the wind.
Deception’s voice cuts through the silence, cold and judging: “How could he convince himself that the past was someone else? He thought he could rewrite himself. Erase his flaws. Bury his shame.
He thought he could **** the past. And he did.
Shot his past. Shot his future. Shot himself.
What a choice to be made— misguided by misconception. A fool’s wager against time itself.”
Reflection’s voice rises, soft yet deliberate: “Not a fool, but a wounded heart.
He needed not bullets to destroy, but understanding to heal.
Yet, he never stopped to ask why. Why he hated his past. Why it haunted him so.
Had he paused, had he reflected, he might have seen— his past was not his enemy, but his guide, his evidence that he wanted to heal, but needed help.
No, not bullets. He needed a doctor.”
Deception narrows his eyes, his flickering form sharpens, and his cold gaze shifts to fix itself on you— piercing, commanding, powerful.
“Oh? And what of you? Yes, you, dear witness. Or shall I say, 𝑏𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟?
What will you do? Will you fool yourself into thinking you are different? Will you tell yourself you are free when you give in to the satisfaction of violence?
You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The shame, the pain, the failures.
Do you think you can erase them? Do you think you can cut them away, bury them, shoot shoot shoot them?
No.
The future is 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 responsibility, not the fault of the past.
You may not like it. But you cannot destroy it. You cannot **** it.
And if you try— if you reach for the gun— you will destroy yourself.
This story of the nameless present, it will become yours next.”
Reflection steps forward, her gaze gentle yet steady, her voice calm yet resolute: “But you do not have to follow the same path.
Look at what you despise so much. Ask yourself why it hurts, why it lingers, what it means.
Reframe your thoughts. Understand them. Seek not the fate of Revenge, but that dear friend, Redemption.
The past is not your enemy. It is your reminder that you must see at least one of three doctors.”
Deception’s tone grows colder, relentless, his words cutting like ice: “Redemption waits.
But if you refuse, you will lose him forever. And it will break his poor heart, yet again.
You will choose the second Karma, the corruption of Revenge. You will tell yourself it is what you deserve— punishment for your own existence. To take responsibility for what was done to you by others.
And when I warn against such lies, such blind faith in things that exist but aren’t real, you will blame me instead.
You always do.”
Reflection’s voice deepens, her words glowing with solemn truth: “Do not destroy what you do not yet understand. Reflect, rethink, recover.
The pain of your past is a symptom, not the cause.
Your past is the evidence of survival, of endurance, of wrongs done that cannot be made right, but that you can heal from, so you may carry on and transform into a better future.”
Deception laughs then, jagged and knowing, his voice cutting like a blade: “You think you’ll resist, don’t you? But you’ll reach for the gun. It’s what you always do.
You just want to shoot shoot shoot— and leave Redemption waiting in the dark with a now twice-broken heart.”
Reflection’s words linger last, luminous and steadfast, a calm light piercing through the shadow:
“You are not broken. You are wounded.
You are not a failure. You are a patient.
Do not shoot shoot shoot your past.
Because that… is 𝑦𝑜𝑢.”
-