well.. normal for you now... and your arm is fucked up, and you feel
tired and sore all over, and your trigger finger is strained.. and you
realize.. you're the villain in your own story... and you're alone...
and.. it's fucking ridiculous.. because all you ever wanted.. was to
keep the shit of the world from taking away everything you loved..."
"Yeah, well.. what are you trying to do now? Huh? You don't love anything."
Benjamin looks firmly at the monitor, silent, not hearing the reply
from the other room as he holds down the loudspeaker button. Just a
face on a monitor, yelling, wordlessly, before stirring from his
reverie and continuing. "No.. no.. not anymore... no.. nothing left to
love, and.. and you find yourself alone. And that's how you know that
you're the villain.. in this story of yours.. this story of ours...
we're both villains here... and you can tell.. because the villain..
is all.. alone..."
The figure on the monitor twisted around, moving from room to room,
searching, his weapon trained everywhere he goes. In the flesh,
frantic, and fighting the psychological war broadcast over every
loudspeaker in every room that he pushes through, he mutters out loud,
"No, I'm not alone. I still have my family, my friends, oh, when all
this is over tomorrow, and I'm with them, whatever I am, I wont be
alone."
"He's coming here.. he knows the last room left with intercom controls
and he's coming..." Ben looks deeply at the monitor, transfixed on the
moving figure. His finger pushes down one more time on the button, one
last whisper uttered and reverberated through the whole of the
offices, the answer to a reply he never heard. "You're going to be
alone.. because you're going to die tonight.. and everyone... dies
alone..."
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