Ninth realization here. Once again, sorry for the delay. I don't really remember what was the driving motion behind this story, but I seem to recall that "so close yet so far" is a very important part of it.
Realization Nine
The sound of a gun shooting. The sight of a friend dying. The knowledge of being unable to do anything against it. The laughing face of a person holding a gun. The moment that changed all, forever.
His mind was broken, left with a mark reminding him of the horrible event, rendering him speechless whenever terror struck him. It was always like that. A car had nearly run over him, his thought froze and his brain corroded while the driver quickly burst from the vehicle, yelling curses and insulting him. He couldn't defend even though he had made no mistake. It had been the driver's fault.
As time went by, the shadow still accompanied him. He had tried to break free countless times yet always failed. It was as if his mind had created a layer of impenetrable material comprised of neurons in his brain. He knew that he needed to speak during critical moments. However, he couldn't overcome the mind block.
Whenever panic took over him, he went silent. Whether he was buying food or talking over the phone, the terror paralyzed him on the spot, his will leaving him at moment's notice.
There were some that believed in fate. And there were those that believed in a god. Or purpose. All in all, many believed in something that preserved justice.
He? He didn't because he had the empirical evidence of it being illusory, for no keeper of law would ever allow such a horror happen twice.
Sitting at a table while eating meal, he stared at those he held dear. He had exchanged words with them just moments ago. He had been connected with them. But in the flash of a moment, the link was severed, the room going silent, the world deaf. The same man responsible for the event years ago entered. The grin hadn't changed after all that time. The evil aura that the very embodiment of evil gave out. That man had added insult to injury long ago. Now, he was adding morbidity.
Why had that cursed evil chosen him? Why was the malicious man tormenting him? His mind shrank, his body shook – he was seeing the event that had happened so long ago. Fright took hold over him.
Although he was stronger than before, it wasn't enough. He wanted to scream, he wanted to shout and save those he knew, but no matter what he did, only deaf words left his mouth. He watched the devil himself take away those he shared many moments with and once again, he could do nothing against it. His blood boiled, his thoughts yelled in a desperate attempt to break free from the prison that was his head.
To be so close, yet so far, that was such a cruel and ironic twist of fate. All that was necessary was voice. A thing he did not possess during the decisive moment. He needed to call for help. He needed to rise. Yet he couldn't. His limbs refused to move, his consciousness refused to break the blockade.
The man was grinning devilishly, taunting him while dragging the corpses away. Such an experience relived was beyond anyone's sanity. The man left, but the memory remained. To be so close, yet so far. Speech was a thing unreliable. And so was the entire body. Everything he knew and believed in was useless and weak.
There was always something that commanded powers greater than his own and he knew it. There was always some soul with morbid intentions bent on spreading bale around the world. And such an entity always commanded a power infinitely greater than his own.
Anything he built was useless. Anything he created was useless. That was why he had abandoned the belief of things ever becoming right and just. If only he had realized sooner, he thought. He would have spared himself of the illusion of living for a purpose. The illusion of advancing – for a simple, mocking adversity easily negated every step forward achieved through hard work.
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