New Mutants In Space Unlimited 10

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New Mutants…IN SPACE!! Unlimited #10
Post by Risk on Jul 22, 2007, 1:45pm

New Mutants…IN SPACE!! Unlimited #10

Title: Axioms and Idioms

Cover: A simple image of Damien sitting in a shadowed corner of his room, blades hung all over the walls, cradling his head with a bottle rolling away from him.

***

It’s all about the different evils, isn’t it? What does that even mean…? The devil you know against the devil you don’t?

The problem is, out here, everything is the ‘devil you don’t’. For me, at least. No matter how deep we got into it on earth, even being the relatively powerless guy, the guy over there that slipped in and out all the time, forcing it all off… I was never really out of my depth. There was always something that I could do. If nothing else… I’d usually know something about whatever it was that we were in, or that we were against, that the rest of my team-mates didn’t.

It meant I wasn’t useless. I had a purpose. I did.

Out here… what is it, here, anyway? It’s… truth? Is that what it is? About how small – how insignificant – how unimportant we are. So why am I out here? What am I hoping to achieve? What do I want to do? I suppose that the bottom line is that it doesn’t matter either way… whatever it is that I want out of this… I’m most likely too weak to get.

God damn it. What’s the point of any of this, anyway? We’re all just going to screw it up in the end. Might as well just cut the head off now and cut our losses.

… Even I’m not stupid enough to think that’s the right way to go.

I can barely even put my thoughts together out here. It’s like… when I know how little they matter; they just don’t want to come together. They don’t want to waste the moment forming themselves – bringing themselves from the shallow depths of consciousness into a grasp of reality – when they know how little they’ll mean. How much they might as well just not be there. I keep my eyes shut, sure of the darkness that I’d perceive if I were to open them.

Sure that I might as well just fade if I did. I think maybe I might like that. To just fade away. It would be a bit of a relief.

There should be something else here. Anything else, but it just isn’t coming. It just won’t come. Can’t I even muster the will?

… For so long, the only thing that could hurt me was a telepath. A telepath could just… shut me down if they wanted. Shut me off. Maybe sleep forever. Maybe a little more. They have to have telepaths out here….

You know, somewhere along here, there’s meant to be a ‘forgive me, father, for I have sinned’ routine, but… I can’t. I want to, more than anything. To verbalise my sins and just- just push them from me. The whole confession thing. I want to. I haven’t, in too long. ‘It’s been a hundred and twelve days since my last confession’. That’s right, isn’t it? That’s how it goes.

It’s been so long since I have. Unfortunately, I don’t think that they have a priest anywhere around here. That would be nice. Simple. It would be more like home.

I rise from the bed, brushing my arm along the wall. Smart. One of the many blades hung along the wall slices into my forearm, cutting it open. It’s a shallow cut… stings, though. Should stop bleeding quickly if I put some pressure on it.

I let it bleed. I pull the dagger off of the wall and stare at it for a moment, before running it along my arm, making another fairly shallow cut… and then another one. A little deeper. I’m still not really used to pain… not sure I ever will be. I went so long without ever having to feel it…. It would probably seem sick to anyone else, but I think I even savour it now. In small doses, it’s almost like a drug. Intoxicating. Even a little commanding.

It doesn’t help me right now, other than by relieving the confusion for a moment by diverting my attention. Only a moment, though. In the next, my mind’s back on all of the mess.

And then it starts. I just start… laughing. I want to stop, but I can’t… the laughter rings clear through the room, resounding off of the walls and ringing back to me in a circular, nonsensical chime, and the only thing I have to be thankful for are the soundproof walls. I drop my head into my hands in despair… but I can’t. Stop. Laughing.

I remember that closet full of bottles that I have waiting for me back home, and wonder just what I would give to have one here right now.


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