Author Topic: She Wouldn't Forgive Me  (Read 589 times)

Offline Alexander Raven

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She Wouldn't Forgive Me
« on: June 09, 2022, 10:08:36 PM »
“In the eye of the beholder, we realise the truth. In the truth, we become one again. The false becomes real, the real becomes a lie. Stained glass shelters the lies from the harsh reality. No more can we ignore the truth. No more can we ignore the reality. Understanding, focus, reality.”

“The eye, is important. It sees everything. It sees the truth of the world, the detachment from reality, the disillusionment of the battling peasants that paint the streets of this city. Sin City is a stained glass kingdom, where nobody throws rocks. Nobody interrupts the status quo, for in its interruption comes discontentment. A new king being crowned rattles the foundations and fear creeps its way through the underbelly of the city below. They talk of the potential, yet none truly wish to see it. For in my success, in my achievement, the kingdom shakes. Yet the glass here is thick. Stones would not break the steel foundations that hold them in place. The reflections of the great mirrors are marred with the misdeeds of the incestuous obsession of its inhabitants, yet nothing changes it. Nothing stops the filth from breeding and breeding, further solidifying the mockery of the detached reality before them. In the eye beholder, we realise that truth. For the truth comes from those who would seek to rattle the foundations. From those who will throw the stones and shake the muck free. From those whose mirrors are free of the taint of the detached reality around them. They will look, they will listen. They’ve been listening, they’ve been watching. They all know who I am, despite their mockery otherwise. They will acknowledge who I am. They will acknowledge the truth. Alexander Raven plays no games. Alexander Raven does not gamble. The odds must be fixed, and they will be. I will fix my odds, for I refuse to play these games of chance any further.”


A lighter clicks, a flame ignites. A bar top, pristine, shining, made of a sturdy dark wood glistens in a low light. Dim faux lanterns hang from the ceiling, casting a dull but warm ebbing glow over the small bar area. A lone person sits hunched over on the far end, a bottle of sweet Tennessee Whiskey joined by two empty glasses. The person flicking the top off a zippo lighter, then closing. Open, close. Open, sharp close.

“Lost in my own mind. I’ve said it for months now. Refocusing is what I need. Years ago, I was but a baby-faced deer, dewy eyed and ready to fight the world to get what I wanted. Full of anger for the treatment I’d received, with nothing but opportunity before me. Time passes, and I became, jaded. Stuck in my ways, and focused on manipulation of the mind. Instead of acting and winning with my fists, blood and sweet. I tried to win the mental war. A knack for having the sharp tongued wit and silver steps to accompany. Mind games are half the battle, and I’d managed to win wars with them. Wins and losses were irrelevant when the whole world was watching you. Every eye focused. Every would be king and queen wishing to dethrone you. Even when the crown was cracked and rusted, stained red with the blood of the fallen, they wished nothing more than to grind it into nothingness. The centre of the world, and the focus of many. I was, Alexander Raven, the one truth. Alexander Raven, the King. The One True King. Phraseology is an interesting thing for it is in these phrases we cast our greatest meaning. I never fawned for the crown, yet it was placed upon me. I rose to the mantle, and those around me did nothing but throw poisoned barbs in an attempt to ruin me. For taking in stride the mockery they lost their power and deigned to want to be my friend.”

“It’s interesting, how now that I am no longer the centre of the universe, I become perplexed by the incestuous mixing of those who want to be. I’ve become slowly aware of how intrinsically linked almost every person I’ve crossed paths with, have been with each other. Senor Vinnie, Bill Barnhart, Matthew Knox, Fenris. Hell my past even haunts me here. Griffin Hawkins, a man who will pay his debt to me, is tied up in the fascination these people have for each other. And in this, I’ve become aware. I’m no longer the centre, and I am glad for it. On the outskirts I can scale the mountain without the assistance. No man will focus their attention on lowering me from my apex, and that is where I wish to be. Yet, I cannot help but constantly feel like I’m being used. Used by those who have nothing but gripe with each other, to bravado themselves. Taking advantage of the loss I feel, they’ve manipulated that into success upon themselves. Which brings me, to you.”

“Max. Burke.”


Laughter escapes the mans lips, as he slowly unscrews the cap from the bottle. He lifts and pours one glass, three fingers high. The other he fills to the same, lowering the bottle back onto the counter once more. He rose the nearest glass to the air and took a deep drink, a slight hiss as it burns its way down the throat. He then tapped the rim to the other glass, lightly muttering, “Cheers.” before placing it down on the bar top once more.

“Another to the mix of incest that pervades every deep recess of this company. Sin City is accurate for full of the sins is this city. Max Burke, I am no stepping stone for your realisations. This match is my pathway to my redemption. The Roulette Championship, again and again mocks me. Swings like a pendulum of undulating fate. It mocks with the personification of its name. Roulette is a game of chance, and I’m sick of the odds being stacked against me. Sick of being the battering ram, I refuse to allow another to stumble themselves over me. Everyone talks about having had their eyes on me. Disappointed in the failures that have followed, yet they keep watching. They all keep watching, they keep looking, they keep listening. Have you been listening, Max? Have you been watching me too? I need you to follow me on this. I need you understand what I’m talking about.”

“For this is the reality of this situation Max. I could care less about your problems with the rest of the people who trade their flesh and blood for adulation and success. I do not care to be your microphone moment, I will not be the body you stand on to make your address. I cannot be that person anymore. I need to actualise the reality I’ve painted in my mind. No more lies, and no more stained glass kingdom to protect myself. No more hiding, no more running. I need to face my reality, for my reality begs this of me. My reality begs that I understand the truth that I so desperately have been running from. You, Max. I really must understand that you, are my focal point. Not the championship opportunity that I received from beating you. Not the satisfaction I get in beating you down, and you having to acknowledge that the man who came short against Senor Vinnie and Fenris, beat you down like a whipped dog. Like the longing woman who sits at the bar come lights on. Like the depleted wine drunk who sits in the gutter begging for a modicum of understanding through mumbles, slurs and gripes. You Max, will have to acknowledge that. I am no speed bump in your road to wrapping your fingers around Senor’s throat. I am the god damn wall, and I will not be toppled.”


The flick of the light once more, the sizzle of a cigarette igniting. The deep inhale of the first heavy drag, clink of glass on glass, then the hiss of reaction to the burn. Alexander Raven sits himself up right, lowering the cigarette from his mouth. Smoke wafting into the air, his other hand gripping the glass tightly. His eyes focused somewhere in the near distance, his hands quivering just slightly.

“I cannot keep failing, Max. As much as delude myself otherwise, I need to know that I am what I have been shown to be. That the eyes upon me are not in pity, but in fear. That those who have been talking about me, acknowledge the threat that is upon them. Our current World Champion had faith in me. I failed him. I failed that faith, I failed to succeed upon the gifts that have been given to me. I will not become the truth that Alexander Remington has spent years building as the reality for all those who will listen. I cannot let you be another tick in the column of loses for me Max. No longer can I hold onto the reality that the second time round, I’ll be better. The first time round I must be dominant. I must dominate any who think themselves in any way superior. Max, are you listening still? I need you to follow what I’m telling you. Are you listening to me?”

Alex’s face contorts in frustration, his hand gripping tighter still onto the glass. A guttural scream of frustration rips from his throat, the glass loosed across the room. The shatter of it against the wall, the clatter of shards of glass falling to a timber floor. His fists banging down upon the bar top as he stands up, the chair he was sat upon toppling and flying backwards. The second glass dancing upon the bar top precariously, wobbling closer to the edge.

“No more games, Max. No more mind games, no more mockery. No more manipulation and fanciful words. No more the master of manipulation, the purveyor of broken analogy. The Conspiracy screams for blood, screams for food. The Conspiracy is hungry, they crave carrion to satiate their hunger, and I’ve been failing them. The mother bird who cannot feed her baby birds, will come to a nest of bones and death. The people, they scream for retribution. The people scream for belief. Those who believe in Alexander Raven know that it is only a matter of time. I know it’s a rhetoric that repeats, over and over. I know it’s something that every person in a spat of bad luck will tout. Yet this is the reality as it stands Max. No masks shall hide my face. No mask shall protect yours. No level of frustration and anger for others will stop this. Come Climax Control, this is the only extending reality. Come Climax Control the lies stop being lies. The torturous streak I have left in my path for months comes to and end. Seeded by the fall of you, Max. You will fall beneath my boot, and I will break your god damn spine. I will wrap my arm tightly around your throat and choke the living out of your soul. Feel as every last bit of life escapes in the form of spittle of struggle. Choking the life from you to make a point. To make it understood that I am sick of being less than. I am sick of being mocked and teased. No more will I be the disappointment in the eyes of those around me. No more will I allow for others to ignore and speak of Alexander Raven’s potential in a past tense. I will cement my path forward with your god damn corpse, Max.”

“I will break you!”


He lifts the bottle off the counter and lifts it his lips, drinking deeply from it. The liquid disappearing slowly, before nothing remains. A pristine, empty glass bottle. Once tainted dark, now clear. Alex drops it beside him, the loud sound of it clattering to the floor reverberating off the walls. His eyes slowly lowering to the remaining glass on the bar top, his eyes softening. The cigarette, somewhat crushed but still embering, coming up to his lips once more as the fingers of his left hand fall upon the rim of the glass. His face slacking, and frustration fading.

“There is someone I owe a many promises to. Someone who I’ve failed beyond all others. Death pervades the world around us, and it is something that has become more and more. Love is a strong motivator for those in this sinful world. There is people who are angry from the damage done to their loved ones. There is others who are hurting others to ensure that those they love and are kept far from pain. Even you, Max. You wish to get your hands on Senor Vinnie to pay back the damage he inflicted upon Fenris. Love is a powerful motivator. None of us are immune to it. Romantic, platonic, familial. It doesn’t matter the origin, any love will hold even the most wild of boars to heel, but will invoke the most placid of hounds to incitement. I made many promises to someone I loved once, Max. I owe her more than I can ever repay. I’ve broken many promises to her, but I know. I know she would not hold it against me. For none saw as clearly as she did. It was never a gamble with her, Max. It was never something that could be used against me. It never will be. She sopped the bloody wounds and kissed the bruises away. She was my crown, and the world took her from me. The world is unfair. The world is cruel, this is truth. That is why Max. I cannot allow you to simply walk over me. It is why I can no longer allow anyone to talk about me like my importance is long gone. I will not be known as the failure who had potential. She would forgive me, no matter the failure. But she would not forgive me, for giving up. Do you understand Max? Have you been listening to me? Have you been following? No word is insignificant. No thought without reason. Everything has a meaning. Everything happens for a reason. Climax Control, you will become a reason. A reason for my success. A step towards redemption. Miles Kasey is a man who owes me a debt, one I intend to collect. You Max, you will never be above me. I cannot allow it.”

“She wouldn’t allow it.”


He slowly grips the glass and lifts it to eye level. His eyes locked with the shimmering liquid within. The cigarette now gone out, the butt hanging loosely between his fingers. A twitch in his cheek, before he tipped it down his throat, shaking his head. Slowly he replaced it upon the bar top once more, leaning down on his elbows. His hands covering his ears, digging his fingers into his hair.

“I don’t want to be a loser anymore. I’m tired of being less than I can be. I will feed my Conspiracy with your corpse, Max. I’m sorry you have to be the victim, but I am not sorry that it will happen. Do not get in my way. I am not as forgiving as she is.”

Slowly he straightens himself out, dusting the shoulders off his coat slightly. Footsteps echo into the darkness, muted voices indistinguishable address Raven as he leaves. A door closes, a lock latches.

Then, darkness.

Silence.

Nothing.