There was darkness. Silent darkness pressing close and holding him motionless in a way the straightjacket couldn’t. Darkness so thick he choked on every breath.
Hell didn’t burn, Farfarello had long since decided. Hell would be this isolation, this exile from life. This constant reminder that he didn’t belong in society, that he would always be apart from others. Always alone. Always lonely.
It didn’t much matter to him what drugs they fed him. The side effects didn’t bother him, none powerful enough to make him feel. There were moments of almost pleasant drowsiness, but they quickly passed, leaving him on edge, angered by the loss.
He snapped and snarled, never certain why, only aware that something was wrong. Wrong with him, wrong with the ones around him. He took solace in his knives, delighting in the sight of pain, sharing through others what he himself could no longer feel. In the unleashed violence he found a way to connect, to ease his loneliness. But when the targets were dead, their blood dried on his skin, the memories of their pain as distant as his emotions, the emptiness was even harder to bear.
Farfarello sighed; a deep shuddering exhalation that reminded him far too much of crying. Determined not to be weak, he drew breath, keeping it steady. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Focus on the mechanics and let everything else fade from awareness.
Light fell on him, breaking his careful concentration and allowing a sob to escape him. Raising his head, golden eye squinting against the light, he was surprised to see a woman. She was beautiful, he noted distractedly, with her long black hair and green-gold eyes. But that wasn’t what made him stare.
He knew the door had not been opened since he was locked in, and still the woman was somehow standing here with him. But that wasn’t what made him stare.
A yellow orb of light hovered in the air, unsupported. But not even that was enough to make him stare in wonder.
The woman felt right, more right than anything had ever been since he was a child. She smiled at him and it felt right to smile back.
She knelt before him and the straightjacket went slack. She pulled it off, threw it to the side and opened her arms to him. With a strange lack of hesitation, Farfarello moved forward, returning the embrace when she pulled him close.
He sat there, curled on her lap, feeling safe and warm. Calm as if being near the woman had made him right as well.
She rubbed her cheek against his hair, speaking softly in his native English.
“I’m sorry, sugar, so very sorry. They shouldn’t have done this to you, shouldn’t have been allowed to hurt you like this.”
Farfarello blinked languidly.
“I’m getting you out of here, puppy. A friend of mine will take you in. He’ll be nicer to you, more understanding, and I’ll come visit you.” She placed a gently kiss on the top of his head and shifted her grip of him. “I know you’re not ready to stop killing, but if you ever want to leave this, I’ll help you. You’re pack now, and we take care of our own. Do you understand?”
Farfarello nodded, his eye widening when the woman rose, still holding him.
“I’m Surreal,” she said, smiling down at him. “Will you trust me?”
“Yes.” He tucked his head against her shoulder, watching unafraid as they passed through the wall, leaving the darkness behind.