Chapter 25
The Doctor
Mortella and I worked through the night, ensuring everything was flawless. Hundreds of candles line the stage, creating an eerie glow as they melt away. Sigils hang from the roof, providing security and power.
The audience has filed in, surrounding the stage, waiting for their sunset spectacle. I smile to myself, hoping that she’ll actually show.
You’re a fool. She’ll never love you.
The words cut through me, sharp like a knife. They make me bleed in places I didn’t know I could. Every time the voice enters my brain. It’s a parasite leeching off of my happiness, never allowing me to just be.
“You’re wrong,” I growl, hatred seeping through my voice like poisoned honey.
Love is an infection, boy. Kill her, or she will kill you.
“You know nothing of love,” I spit, no longer fearful of the voice. “You taught me nothing but hate. I was a boy who wanted safety, and you gave me chains. You called it love, but it was always ownership,” I scream, my body shaking.
“You told me mercy was an infection, but mercy is the only part of me you couldn’t kill.
I see it every time I hesitate. Every time I wanted to save instead of destroy.
” My heart is pounding now, almost louder than the bass beating from the DJ playing on stage.
My breath fogs up my mask, making me feel claustrophobic. “And I fucking hate you for that.”
I reach toward my mask, gripping it in my palms. “You’re not God. You’re not my cure. You’re nothing but a pestilence in my brain.”
I rip the mask from my face. Removing another thing that has plagued me for thousands of years. A chain that I was handed on a golden platter, forced to keep on even through torture.
There’s no more hiding. My surrender to her is removing the armor that has left me untouchable for more years than I care to admit.
I breathe in deeply, breathing in the smoke-filled air like it’s the first time I’ve truly inhaled. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s the first breath I've taken as a man, free of the hold of his abuser. Free of his torment.
I grip the mask harder, the weight of it grounding me further. Solidifying my choice.
“S-Sir?” Mortella’s small voice brings me back to the present, my potential future with Indy, and I can’t help but smile.
She looks at me, mouth hung low in disbelief. “Sir, you-your mask. Don’t you need it?” She questions, concern dripping from her.
“Not after tonight, Mortella.” And I leave it at that.
No explanation.
No reasoning.
Just finality.