Vincenzo flinched and shifted away at Milo's rant, making sure they weren't touching. His eyes were as wide as saucers. He felt his cheeks burn in shame and embarrassment. Milo was very in love and Vincenzo respected that, but he also...
He didn't expect any of this would be permanent. When he sold his eyes, he saw all the horrors that existed beyond the material realm — ghosts, monsters and horrors that prowled in spaces people couldn't see. He remembered the experience as scarring, so he wrapped bandages around his face so he wouldn't be subjected to it everyday. But he knew how it hurt him. He knew that was when his mind started to crack.
This is all temporary, he told himself at the time. He might've lost an eye, but it was just an eye. He wouldn't lose anything else. He was resolute on that. The black hardened skin crawled around his face, and he knew it was just a matter of time before it took over.
This experience was proof of that. Vincenzo lost himself, his humanity. Vincenzo had lost everything that made him Vincenzo. He was taken over by that monster already. Milo just didn't recognize him. Why else would he commit all these demonic deeds? Vincenzo buried his face in his hands and cried, mourned about the future and individuality that was so viciously stolen from him by his father, that school, and Algrogath. It was already too late for him.
It was already too late.
Vincenzo hadn't eaten much, and the mental strain caused him to pass out in the bed.
The following days felt like a dream. He wasn't as distressed anymore with the reference sheets. He'd study them. Sometimes, he'd add more details, filling in his childhood, adulthood, and the moments in between. He'd shown considerable development, being able to eat and use the bathroom without much assistance. On the fourth day, he'd learned how to turn on the television and watch movies with Milo, even processing what he'd watched.
His more lucid moments first flashed for a few seconds, then minutes, and finally hours of on and off. He woke up one morning almost completely well. They hadn't been in the facility that long, but it felt like a lifetime for Vincenzo. He relived his life over and over, the experience more horrific every time. He was damn tired. He wasn't going to be any less tired.
He came to the conclusion that he'd built a mechanism of his own destruction. It was a mistake to have summoned Algrogath. Maybe, if he'd been patient and suffered the abuse, he would've been traumatized, sure, but he'd be able to make a life of his own choosing after. He took the easy route, and now he suffered for it.
Milo, Valentine, everything he'd built on this salted earth he dared to call a "life" — it was all pointless, anyway. He couldn't exist without Algrogath. His body would be cut up in ribbons. It was either he went mad or died, and he was already at the edge of both. He wasn't going to be able to hold on any longer.
He didn't have any other option. If he was going to die, he was going to take Algrogath with him. He had a plan. He was going to meld their consciousness together and destroy his physical form. That way, he would destroy Algrogath with his own. It wasn't right to Milo, but they'd tried everything. Dragging this on until Milo watched the inevitable bitter conclusion would be cruel to both of them. At least, at the end, he could say he loved and was loved in return.
Vincenzo got up in the morning earlier than Milo did. There was a notice on their door that they could leave as soon as this afternoon because of the progress they'd made. Vincenzo put the piece of paper on the table and made them some breakfast.
One last morning with the love of his life. It didn't have to be tragic or depressing. They could just be together, so Milo's last memories of him didn't have to be bittersweet. Just sweet, just sweet.
Vincenzo flopped onto him with his entire weight, with the mattress bouncing in surprise. He shook him awake, holding up the paperwork. "Milo, Milo, look. Look!" He raised it up and pointed at the date. "Today! That's today! We can get out today, finallyyy, I'm so sick of this shithole. I have sooo much to catch up on. Why did that stupid Rosales girl had to rat us out like that? Psh."
He rolled to the side. "I made you... breakfast! Look, it's got all the healthy stuff, fruits and cereal and orange juice. Maybe make is a gross exaggeration, but we're grossly under supplied here." He squeezed Milo's nose. "When we make out, can you make me a feast? I feel like I just lost ten pounds, and with my body mass that's not good."
He didn't expect any of this would be permanent. When he sold his eyes, he saw all the horrors that existed beyond the material realm — ghosts, monsters and horrors that prowled in spaces people couldn't see. He remembered the experience as scarring, so he wrapped bandages around his face so he wouldn't be subjected to it everyday. But he knew how it hurt him. He knew that was when his mind started to crack.
This is all temporary, he told himself at the time. He might've lost an eye, but it was just an eye. He wouldn't lose anything else. He was resolute on that. The black hardened skin crawled around his face, and he knew it was just a matter of time before it took over.
This experience was proof of that. Vincenzo lost himself, his humanity. Vincenzo had lost everything that made him Vincenzo. He was taken over by that monster already. Milo just didn't recognize him. Why else would he commit all these demonic deeds? Vincenzo buried his face in his hands and cried, mourned about the future and individuality that was so viciously stolen from him by his father, that school, and Algrogath. It was already too late for him.
It was already too late.
Vincenzo hadn't eaten much, and the mental strain caused him to pass out in the bed.
The following days felt like a dream. He wasn't as distressed anymore with the reference sheets. He'd study them. Sometimes, he'd add more details, filling in his childhood, adulthood, and the moments in between. He'd shown considerable development, being able to eat and use the bathroom without much assistance. On the fourth day, he'd learned how to turn on the television and watch movies with Milo, even processing what he'd watched.
His more lucid moments first flashed for a few seconds, then minutes, and finally hours of on and off. He woke up one morning almost completely well. They hadn't been in the facility that long, but it felt like a lifetime for Vincenzo. He relived his life over and over, the experience more horrific every time. He was damn tired. He wasn't going to be any less tired.
He came to the conclusion that he'd built a mechanism of his own destruction. It was a mistake to have summoned Algrogath. Maybe, if he'd been patient and suffered the abuse, he would've been traumatized, sure, but he'd be able to make a life of his own choosing after. He took the easy route, and now he suffered for it.
Milo, Valentine, everything he'd built on this salted earth he dared to call a "life" — it was all pointless, anyway. He couldn't exist without Algrogath. His body would be cut up in ribbons. It was either he went mad or died, and he was already at the edge of both. He wasn't going to be able to hold on any longer.
He didn't have any other option. If he was going to die, he was going to take Algrogath with him. He had a plan. He was going to meld their consciousness together and destroy his physical form. That way, he would destroy Algrogath with his own. It wasn't right to Milo, but they'd tried everything. Dragging this on until Milo watched the inevitable bitter conclusion would be cruel to both of them. At least, at the end, he could say he loved and was loved in return.
Vincenzo got up in the morning earlier than Milo did. There was a notice on their door that they could leave as soon as this afternoon because of the progress they'd made. Vincenzo put the piece of paper on the table and made them some breakfast.
One last morning with the love of his life. It didn't have to be tragic or depressing. They could just be together, so Milo's last memories of him didn't have to be bittersweet. Just sweet, just sweet.
Vincenzo flopped onto him with his entire weight, with the mattress bouncing in surprise. He shook him awake, holding up the paperwork. "Milo, Milo, look. Look!" He raised it up and pointed at the date. "Today! That's today! We can get out today, finallyyy, I'm so sick of this shithole. I have sooo much to catch up on. Why did that stupid Rosales girl had to rat us out like that? Psh."
He rolled to the side. "I made you... breakfast! Look, it's got all the healthy stuff, fruits and cereal and orange juice. Maybe make is a gross exaggeration, but we're grossly under supplied here." He squeezed Milo's nose. "When we make out, can you make me a feast? I feel like I just lost ten pounds, and with my body mass that's not good."