3.

We sat at the office as I stared at the empty screen and came to grips with what I had just went though. An epiphany, of the worst possible kind.

“I’ve wanted to die, all this time,” I muttered to myself. “I knew it, going in. When she told me, after first introducing herself, that ‘it could only end in tears’. I knew! But… But I thought... If I could at least do something. If I could let my death have meaning...”

“Ah, ah ah,” Nyarlathotep wagged his finger gently. “There’s a big difference between ‘I want to save the world, and I’ll die if I have to’ and ‘I want to die, and I’ll save the world if I have to’. Pretty wide gap between the two.”

“Yeah...” I admitted, bowing my head again. His words hurt, but not because they were mean. They hurt because it was the truth..

“You’re not a hero, Cody. I’m sorry, it sucks to say this and I have no beef with you, but it needs to be said.” He shook his head sadly. “You’re not a savior, you’re not even a martyr. You’re just a poor, suicidal man caught in something much bigger than you. Which means now you’re Hastur’s new chew toy. Until it gets bored.”

“She chose me...” I started saying.

“At random!” He insisted, angry now. “She always does that! You think you’re the first? Or the last? Even now she has millions of playtoys. You’re not unique! You’re not the chosen one! You’re a face in the middle of a crowd. You’re a fucking statistic! Even your death wish doesn’t make you unique, you know. There are many others like you killing themselves on earth as we speak. Hanging themselves, filling their lungs with carbon monoxide or slitting their wrists in a bathtub somewhere. Your situation is a little different from them, but that’s all. The only thing separating you from them is the grace of the King in Yellow. And that is not unique either!”

“I…” Hesitating, I swallowed nervously. “I don’t think I would have chosen to die, if the King in Yellow hadn’t entered my life. If I had not gone to that theater. If… If my girlfriend hadn’t died...”

“Oh, Cody,” he shook his head again, looking at me with pity and disbelief. “Don’t tell me you still believe that nonsense?”

“What?” I got up from the chair as a nauseous feeling gripped my throat. I swallowed again, pushing it down. “What do you mean nonsense?! Take that back -”

“Your girlfriend never existed,” said Nyarlathotep flatly.

I stared at him silently. I opened my mouth, but nothing would come out. Even protesting that felt wrong, as if it was a thing that even merited consideration. I knew she existed. I believed in it.

“Oh boy, let’s take a look at this wonderful replay at channel three, shall we?” He pointed the remote at the flatscreen and it winked into being once more, showing me in my room, talking to Suzy.

“Nobody remembers her?” I muttered, looking dejectedly at the floor.

“As if she was never there,” answered Suzy. “Is that so bad? No grieving families or friends left behind. No sorrow, no pain. A peaceful end.”

“I remember her.” I spoke quietly. Who was I trying to convince at the time? The King in Yellow? Or myself.

“Well, you were restless with the gap she left behind in your memories. I had to cobble together a substitute to keep you calm. It was the best I could do, giving the circumstances.” She spoke so casually. Matter of fact. Was it a lie?

“Cobbled together?” I asked. The me in the screen looked up at her. “You mean… My memories of my girlfriend are fake?”

“I made them from her memories, they are similar to what yours would be if they had not been taken away.” She smiled.

I felt a tear roll down my cheek. The real me, not the one on the screen. It couldn’t be. No, anything but that.

“She was lying,” said Nyarlathotep, and at that moment I hated him. I hated him more than any other being I had ever laid my eyes on. I glared at him furiously, tears and snot now dribbling on my face. But I couldn’t speak a word, couldn’t voice my anger even as I trembled and cried. “You never had a girlfriend. It was all a lie.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why the fuck would she do such a thing? What would she have to gain?”

He shrugged in response. “You’re better off asking her, not me. But in my opinion? She wanted you to stop trying to kill yourself all the goddamn time. I mean… Remember when she gave you two hot room mates who were thirsty for your D? And a fancy apartment? And a happy life? Even with all that shit you still tried to kill yourself! Can’t blame her for getting tired of your suicidal ways.”

“No...” I whispered.

“So,” he continued, ignoring me. “She cobbled together some fake memories so you could believe that SOMEONE once that gave a toss about you. That were loved, once. A convenient lie that would make you angry at someone. That would give you strength. But that’s all it was. An illusion. In the end, you were always alone.’

He clicked on the remote and the screen showed a young boy, sitting on a worn sofa and watching TV by himself in the dark. The boy was me.

“Poor Cody Mello, all alone at home.” The man in the suit sighed. “A single mother grieving the death of her husband while working hard to put food on the table barely had time to take care of one child, let alone two, and your brother was the youngest. He needed the extra attention. Can’t blame her, can you?”

In the screen, the room was dark and the only light in it came from the TV, casting a dark blue glow on my child self’s features. There was no one else with me on the couch.

He clicked the remote and the screen changed again. I was in my teenage years, sitting in an old room with rotting mattresses and peeling wallpaper. There were others, sunken on the ground in various stages of stupor. They paid no attention to me and me to them. Instead the past me was concentrating on tying a tourniquet on his arm as tight as he could, until he was satisfied with its effects. The veins were now easily visible, I could plunge the syringe into them and inject its contents correctly. That brought a smile to my face as I laid my head back against the wall. I became one more junkie in that trash heap, one amongst many.

Yet I was still alone.

“Trying your best to kill yourself, even back then,” commented Nyarlathotep casually. “Amateur effort. All you really did was ruin your health and your friendships. And your relationship with your family. You didn’t manage to really destroy your life though, just the reasons you would have to keep living. I guess we could call it a practice run. Death by degrees. Still, if anyone cared for you then, if anyone believed you were worth saving, you showed them wrong, didn’t you?”

Another click. Another me, much more recent. Maybe a few months ago. I was studying in my dorm room at night, lit only by a small lamp in my desk. Still alone.

“Look at that,” scoffed the other man, pointing at the screen with the remote. “Here’s a man who’s got a bright future. He’s clean for a few years now, no drugs for him! And he’s taking a university course. Soon to be a productive member of society. You had a future now. You had prospects. Were you happy then?”

He paused for dramatic effect, looking at the screen. There, in that dark dorm room, the door opened and my roommate called me to the entrance. He invited me to a party his friend was having. I watched myself politely refuse the invitation and return to my desk, continuing my studies. I was soon alone again.

“Of course not!” Said Nyarlathotep emphatically. “You were still all alone and no one cared if you lived or died. You carried the scars of your past and daydreamed of suicide daily, your plans growing more concrete with every day. Honestly? If the King in Yellow hadn’t shown up in that play, it would have been only a matter of time. You were a walking corpse, breathing and eating, waking up and sleeping, while waiting to die. That’s what you were. What you always were. Even before Hastur had anything to do with you.”

I stared at the screen fixedly, unable to say anything. I had no memories of that event. My memories of that time were mostly of my girlfriend, and our time spent together.

How she would grab me tightly from behind and kiss my neck, refusing to let me go or turn my head. I remember her expression when waking up after falling asleep next to me, sullen and slightly grumpy. She was a late riser, drinking coffee in the mornings and alcohol in the evenings. She liked to dance but never sang. Too embarrassed at her own voice. Not even drunk singing, never. She was always trying to drag me to dance with her, though, insisting until I relented. And if I said no she would pout for a moment, before breaking into a cheerful grin.

I remembered all that. Lies. All lies.

“People don’t change, in my experience,” he said gravely. “Not where it’s important. Their core. And the truth, in your case? Even with all the power of a new god, or with riches, or even if you were showered with love at this point. It’s too late. It can’t change who you are: a lonely little boy, crying in the corner and wanting to die. That’s what you are, and all you will ever be.” He raised his hands defensively. “Harsh, I know. But it’s the truth. Sorry.”

“That’s why she changed your memories,” he continued. “It was the only way to make a fake change, make you behave differently. But in the end, your true self always emerges. A change borne of illusion is a frail thing. And yet... Why do you think I chose to talk to you, rather than any of the other versions of yourself?”

Click. The remote changed the screen again, splitting it into many. Again, showing the many different versions of me. The one where I grew from the ground like a tree of flesh. The one I was a slave to alien beings. The one I was happily dating the girl of my dreams.

“The truth is, the current you is the most unchanged. The least altered, among the ones that are still alive, that is. The one with the least illusions crammed into his mind by another being. The truer you.” He smiled at me. “So it is to you that I ask: now you know the truth, what is it you desire from me?”

I looked at the screen again, then looked away. Awkwardly, self-consciously, I wiped my face. That took some time. He waited patiently, in silence.

“Can you really kill me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “And most importantly, I can make sure you stay dead. She will not bring you back from the dead. Or make a copy of you to play with instead. All of you will be wiped out, forever. You, my friend, will finally be free from her influence.”

“How?”

He considered it. “I will erase your entire existence from ever coming to being, wipe it from time itself. There will be no body to revive or copy. Without access to the original, she can’t make a copy of you, even powerful as she is. We all have our weaknesses. Your life, and your death, will finally be yours.”

I clenched my hands into fists, debating furiously with myself. Avoiding the inevitable answer that loomed in my mind. The only possible answer. There was no other way.

“This is the best chance you’ll ever have,” added Nyarlathotep quietly. “If you don’t take my offer, you can go back to Hastur and continue as you were. She will probably erase your memories of what happened here, and I won’t see you again. So it’s now or never. Your choice.”

I sighed and looked at him. Nyarlathotep stood up, staring back at me, but my eyes were moist with tears and I couldn’t see clearly. I wiped my eyes nervously. Delaying, until it could not be delayed any further.

“Please kill me,” I told him, admitting defeat. “It’s… That’s my choice. I choose to die.”

“Great, glad to hear it!” He clapped his hands once, nodding firmly at me. “If you agree with this pact, then all that is left is for you to give me your hand.”

He offered his hand to me, in a gesture that reminded me eerily of Suzy at the end of every adventure, as she offered to take me somewhere new. I banished these thoughts from my mind and went to grab his hand. In a quick motion he grabbed my wrist before I could reach him, and with his other hand sliced precisely at my palm with his fingernail. I felt a sharp sting and would have pulled away, but he held me firm in his grip.

“I need a part of you to complete the ritual. Your blood will do,” he said, and without bothering to wait for my reaction brought my hand to his mouth licked the wound. I finally pulled my hand away and rubbed the area where he had cut it. There was a bit of blood, but did not look too serious, it was the surprise that unnerved me more than anything. He closed his eyes and savored the blood in his mouth, rolling it in his mouth from cheek to cheek, like a fine wine he was trying to determine the vineyard and vintage. He seemed to reach a conclusion and opened his eyes and looked at me again. Wise, powerful eyes, and hungry. I shrinked beneath his gaze, feeling small and stupid.

“Do you accept my gifts?” He asked, smiling.

“Yes,” I said. “I, umm… I accept your offer. I choose death.”

“Glad to hear it,” he smiled wider. “Now there’s one last thing I need to do.”

“What?” I asked.

He smiled wider still. “Gloat,” he said.

“Seriously! He’s an asshole, don’t trust him,” said Suzy, emphatically, as time came rushing back into existence, filling the void with sound, with movement, with life. We were back at the moment before Nyarlathotep interrupted everything for our conversation. Suzy’s reaction was telling. She immediately stopped talking and narrowed her eyes, glancing for a moment at the other man, who smiled back at her.

“You… Did something,” she accused him. “You messed with time and space. I feel it. What did you do?”

“Why do you immediately jump to conclusions? It could have been something else,” replied Nyarlathotep, smiling innocently.

“What did you do?” She growled, glaring murderously at him. She glanced back at me and her expression, her voice, all softened. Became small and hesitant, almost afraid. “What did he do to you?”

“He… He told me everything,” I replied, cursing myself internally for sounding so small and weak. But that was the truth. “And… I’ve made my choice.”

I looked at her eyes, but still could not understand the thing behind those eyes, looking back at me. I could not understand what she was thinking, or what she wanted.

“I choose to die,” I told her. “It’s… It’s for the best. I’ve been running away all my life. Struggling. Avoiding it. Pretending it’s not there. But this is how it was always going to end, wasn’t it? Even you told me… You said this would only end in tears.”

Her eyes narrowed into a frown and she glanced up at Nyarlathotep, who sported a very smug smile, before looking back at me.

“What are you doing? Don’t trust what he says!” She urged me. She pointed at the man in the suit and continued, “he is an ancient abomination that corrupts the minds of all he speaks to. A cruel thing, powerful enough to destroy countless lives below him and petty enough to want that! Also he’s a tremendous asshole! Why the hell would anyone listen to him?”

“It’s too late now,” said Nyarlathotep, smiling with self-satisfaction. “The contract has been sealed. It’s time to say goodbye to your toy now.”

She glared at him. “Whatever you do, I can undo.”

He smiled wider. “I have asked for a favor from Yog-Sothoth, the Opener of the Way.”

“You would go that far? To annoy me?” She made a disgusted noise. “That’s low, even for you.”

“What can I say,” Nyarlathotep walked calmly to where I stood, silent. “I’m a really petty bastard.”

He put a hand on my shoulder. At that moment my heart jumped, and I felt a wind blow on my face, despite my surroundings remain perfectly still.

“I have a pact!” Shouted Nyarlathotep “With this pact, and with this blood I open the gate!”

The wind grew stronger, forcing me to crouch down and brace against it. The air smelled of ozone, and I felt the hairs of my neck rise in anticipation of... Something. The unknown. The terrible power that would soon wink me out of existence.

“With this pact, I erase you,” he said. “With this pact, I wipe out all that was ever you, and all that will ever be you, past and future. Everything that is you, shall be no more… Except for one.”

I looked up at him, when he said that. He was still grinning, but now the grin was directed at me.

“I will erase all versions of you, all moments of you… Except one. And that moment of you will be all that is left. Stuck in a crack between space and time, frozen within a single moment. Alone with your thoughts.” His grin widened. “Oh, and by the way. You won’t be able to die there.”

The wind grew stronger still, almost topplling me over. He burst into laughter while looking at my crestfallen expression. So much joy in watching my misery. “Why...” I croaked, struggling to stand.

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I’m a really, REALLY petty asshole. And I like watching maggots like you squirm in the mud.”

In desperation, I looked at Suzy. At Hastur, the King in Yellow, and her expression was even worse. Resignation. Bitterness. Defeat. She was staring at me.

“Turn your regrets into strength,” she said. “ That is the only - ”

“Too late!” Interrupted Nyarlathotep, laughing. “Far too late!”

Then there was a flash of bright light. I dropped to the ground, the wind suddenly gone, and planting on the ground I noticed the silence, descending on me like a shroud.

There was no noise. No movement. Everything was perfectly still. Even Nyarlathotep was frozen, still laughing in glee at me. Suzy was frozen mid-sentence, pleading. They were not moving. I looked around me, increasingly panicked.

The only thing alive in that moment, was me.