Nobody Cares.

[Vespyr]

V.13.11

Yes, it’s been awhile, and no, I still don’t know why I bother scribbling in this stupid book anyhow after all this time. It makes no difference to past events, serving merely as a record of my triumphs and falls, if they can be called such. It’s a self-deprecating process, if anything; when reading most of the older passages I have the urge to seize my past self by the throat and wring her out of her pathetic misery. So much time was wasted, dwelling on Scene, as if he were the only thing that mattered in the world—the object of my deepest desires but also my unfathomable loathing—whether it was love or hate doesn’t matter now that he’s dead. His death changes everything, even the words I’d written, for the deep well of emotion they once held in regards to him is now pitifully empty and dry. I ought to tear those pages out and burn them like I did the mansion.

But I won’t. If I’ve learned anything, and how I hate to admit it was learned from him, it’s that the past isn’t erasable. Physical evidence is nothing compared to what the mind carries—I may have destroyed everything, even his body, but like the scars now lying beneath my ribs, the memories are permanent. I hate to say it. It is infuriating. But it is also necessary. I wouldn’t be as strong as I am now if I hadn’t become strong in the first place; it all had to happen for things to end this way.

But now that it’s over, I suppose there isn’t anything else to say on the matter.

I suppose my mind will wander back to the things I’ve been missing out on, now that it’s free again. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. For once I even feel the urge to do something—not something productive as society seems to put it—to want to ‘do something with my life’, or make a difference somehow. Of course not, fuck that. Fuck all that optimistic humanist bullshit, and fuck goals and aspirations, and fuck being productive. I’m talking about being destructive. I want to put to waste everything that mankind has been toiling for since the beginning. All my life I’ve hated society but I’ve never had the impetus to do anything about it. All I’ve done is kill meaninglessly, picking off the weakest and most atrocious of the human race as a mere pastime. But that’s not enough anymore.

I have to get involved in something again. I know I hated it before, being committed, with responsibilities, but I think I am more willing now that I am free to do nothing as I please. When all I wanted to do was nothing, I could not—but now that I can, I have to make something from nothing. For the time being it doesn’t matter what. It doesn’t even have to be relevant to my interests, my declaration of war on the human race. I’ll get to that someday. But for now, there are other opportunities I have been neglecting…

[Vespyr]

V.17.11

Now there is a question haunting me—one that I thought I had been satisfied in leaving unanswered…

Why do I still live, when my existence consists of nothing more than killing and being killed? I’ve lost track of how many lives I’ve taken, and soon, I will lose track of the lives I’ve lost. I always imagined that I would die someday and that would simply be the end of things—but it is not so. I have died several times. If death is not the end for me, then what is? What more do I have to look forward to if not my eventual termination?

I suppose I shall have plenty of time to find answers.

[/blockquote]

[Vespyr]

VI.29.11

I’ve only just now come to terms with why I did not kill Jonathan Winters.

When I desire something, I destroy it. I do not welcome feelings of wanting and I attempt to eradicate them whenever they manifest—a purging, of sorts. That is why Scene had to die. Despite my loathing for him, there was no doubt that I had become attached to the boy, and so he had to die. Now that he’s gone I’m no longer weighted down by wanting him.

At first I thought this was the case with Mr. Winters. He was a rare gem of a human being… really, a diamond among coals. I wanted to possess him… so I tried to kill him. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it; something deep within kept me from draining him completely, and only now have I figured out exactly what it was. Succinctly… I suppose there are some things I don’t mind having attachment to.

[/blockquote]

[Vespyr]

IX.15.11

I have never been in awe at the mysterious ways of life more than I am now. There is really no concise way of putting into words the current situation… except to say that everything is different now. In some ways, for worse, and in others, for better. The past—my entire life up until now—feels irrelevant.

I don’t know how old I am. I don’t know my real name. I don’t know who my parents are and I don’t know if they’re alive—hopefully they are so I can have the opportunity to kill them myself someday—but the torment caused by those missing details of my identity has ended. I don’t know how long ago it was that I lost my dear brother. Ten years? Fifteen? I doesn’t seem to matter now that he has been returned to me. An unbearable weight has been lifted from me that I had stopped noticing, it had oppressed me for so long. In its absence I find myself looking forward to the future, as I had never done in years past. I feel like my life has begun anew.

And in more ways than just that. The timing of his return could not have been better; it gave me the impetus I lacked to fulfill my desire to do something new and drastic. Where before I saw myself as a perpetually solitary, unknown being that would eventually fade into the dark recesses of human history, all the damage I’ve caused forgotten, I can now see my twin and I standing together at the helm of something that could potentially change history and leave a lasting, detrimental impact on the human race. Something I’ve always wanted, but never had the motivation to do. With Vincent by my side I have no more hesitation.

Yet I am aware that what I plan to do has the potential to be fatal. There is a possibility that we fail and all of us—including Vincent and myself—will perish. I hold no more optimism than the reality of the situation at hand will allow. But still, I am not deterred.

My home has already become a base of operations for the not-yet-birthed organization. It was quite a stroke of luck to meet Tuvlan when I did; he’s been rather helpful and I can tell he will be a praiseworthy asset to the outfit. His loyalty and capability for brutality are so far unmatched. The Twins are also strictly obedient, but they’re no good unless they’re being actively commanded. Like puppets. I’ve assigned them to the task of guarding the main entrance to our lair with a dull hope that they will prove themselves to be competent soldiers. I suppose we’ll see.

Gilbert, on the other hand, poses a slight problem despite his apparent loyalty. The problem is that he’s too intelligent, too crafty. I know for a fact he wants me dead and the only reason he hasn’t yet done something stupid is because he’s too afraid to. The only trust I have in him is that he’ll never gain an ounce of courage to finally make his bloody statement of rebellion, at which point I would simply give him a nasty surprise by coming back to ‘haunt’ him, to put it lightly. But I’m confident in his ability to remain as spineless as he already is. That boy has quite a knack for it. Besides, he needs me. Without me, he would have been dead a long time ago.

On that point, I find it ironic that despite my lethal tendencies, there are individuals whose very lives depend on me. It would almost be comical if… it weren’t such a burden.

Fortunately I’m already well equipped enough for the ensuing Armageddon and the new age of chaos. It would seem that not the meek—but the kleptomaniacs—shall inherit the Earth. I have enough food, water, and weapons stowed here to sustain my hypothetical minions for quite awhile while I train them to unrestrainedly reap the blood and bounties of the world like I do. At that point, if I succeed, these hypothetical minions will be able to keep themselves alive. A new generation of humans, all murderers and thieves. Rogues.

But despite my confidence, the vision before my eyes is dark and foreboding. It is not a grandiose vision, but a grave one, tainted by the bittersweetness of the resounding thought that things will never again be as they were. My life as a loner, though unbearable at times, was the only thing I ever held faith in. That faith is gone now that I’ve given up my solitude. I have nowhere to hide. All my life I’ve managed to avoid being tied to others by various forms of attachment—namely responsibility and love. Now I am chained by both.

[/blockquote]

[Vespyr]

XII.24.11

Why do I still live?

I have no choice.

My body may live forever, but my mind is not impervious to pain. Someday I will lose everything and will not be granted the mercy of forgetting all that I lost.

[Vespyr]

III. 12

Time passes without leaving any trace. The season changes, and so does our world. But it happens so gradually that it’s almost beneath my notice. Some summer month I am sitting alone in my empty home, watching the particles of dust drift in and out of dim, silent shafts of light. Suddenly I become aware that I am the leader of a terrorist organization, that I cannot recall the last time I have been truly alone, that no dust settles in the house anymore because someone else is always there to clean it up. I find my empty home is now a throne room crowning an anthill that never sleeps. There are always people milling about, willing to do whatever I say, to subject themselves to whatever I decide to do. I have lost count of how many there are now. They’ve all spread into the streets like I told them to.

It’s odd; without having them all cooped up in that basement there’s really no way for me to ensure that they follow my orders. But all evidence shows that even with freedom they’re doing as they’re told. I didn’t expect this. Can’t say I don’t like it, but I still find it strange. For what reason they quite voluntarily remain loyal to my kind of authority, I don’t fully know. I suppose my methods and my goals have appealed to their nature just as their roguish potential has appealed to mine. Whether it is respect or fear that keeps us stable… doesn’t really matter, I guess. It is what it is. I will keep doing what appears to be working. I cannot stop now.

It is about time we began to expand our territory. With the constant influx of recruits and the limited hospitability of our current domain, we need to stake a claim on more housing, and more sources of water. That’s just to cover the basics. I intend also to drive more of the refugees further away from their homes, and tighten the reign on the land we already have under our boot. We are small enough to go unnoticed, but that means we still have an annoying number of people just wandering into the territory. The black hole must grow. Like a plague. Street by street we will let our tendrils creep. Slowly transforming the land into something new.

Long grasses will grow in the street of our domain. Trees are already overgrown. A sort of jungle is beginning to spring up where cars and people once traversed and worked and lived out their meaningless lives. Those who live here now know that all is not lost. There is more life to live now than there ever was.

[Vespyr]

XI. 12

If I were ever to learn that you had found happiness with another human being I would return to gouge out the eyes of your first-born child and take the heads of all the others while they slept. Your eldest and only living spawn would be spared only so that when I return some years later to find him growing up looking just like you, I'd take him and make him my slave for a lifetime. Who knows what after that? Maybe even your grandchildren and their children will feel my boot on their backs. I'm sure I could keep myself amused for generations, even long after you're rotted away. I have all the time in the world, old friend, you disloyal idiot, liar. I should have known better than to take your word for it, that someone who claimed to love you could be trusted. I should have trusted my instincts instead, that told me there is no promise in the world as fickle and easily broken as that. Now you've gone and made me feel like the idiot-- imagine that. My mistake, one I won't be making again, and one I'll make sure you pay for.