Hearts of Stone & Paper

My white, perfect canvas has been stained by blood of a million mistakes once more.

The cold metal stung my cheek, and I picked it up off the surface violently, awakening roughly from my artificial sleep. I grabbed the floor, and held on for dear life as the ground moved around before me. I was sitting helplessly on a fire escape. I recognized the charred remains of the building before me as my house. It was not my house anymore. So, I didn't bother getting angry about it. There was snow falling, and snow on the ground. I peeked inside the building... There were charred remains of floors, and objects I once owned, and bodies, burnt until they were but ash. I had wondered what could have possibly happened. I turned around, and looked back at the floor. There was a phone, and a pistol. I picked up both. I turned on the phone. A message awaited me. I pressed my ear against it, and listened.
"You, are a monster. You don't deserve to be alive. You can run, and avoid the capture, or you can kill yourself. The pistol is waiting for you. Also, the police are, as well. If I were you, I'd take the suicide. Or, you can run. Run as far away as possible, and never come back to this city, again." The message ended. I wondered what on earth was happening. I threw the phone down onto the snow below me. I threw the pistol away, as well.

I couldn't remember anything. What did I do? Why am I here? Who is playing these games with me? I had to run. I had to run.

My mind worked slowly as I wondered, and wondered.

I ran into the alley way, far away from this house as I could have. I was so cold. It was the dead of winter, snowing hard, and I had nothing but a thin long seleeved shirt, and a pair of pants, and boots. I had no money. I needed shelter. And god only knows how long it would be until I died. My days were limited, now.

And old empty room, lay at the bottom of a stair case, which looked like it had been a derelict place for such a long time. I walked in. This is where I spent the night. Tomorrow, is a new day.

In my dreams, if you could call such an abomination, there were people I once knew. Yet I didn't. And even if I could remember, I could not love them. I could not bear to look at them. And yet, I longed for more. I longed for a reason to run. Where would I go? When would I go there? How would I get there?

I decided to believe that I've been framed for all of this. I've had no intention of ending lives before. My skin crawled at the thought of someone trying to track me down.

I awoke. A small black device was laying in front of me, in plain view. Groggy, and dazed, I picked it up, and pressed a small gray button.

"You've decided to run. You've only made things harder. You should know, you are at fault here. You caused these problems. You may have had no hostile disposition towards anyone or anything, but wait. Just wait, and see. You're only killing yourself." The voice talked so morosely. I put it in my pocket.

It was still snowing. People were walking down the sidewalk. Like they've always done. Like they'll always do. As if they ever wonder about these sort of things. I'm just so analytical.

Is there a meaning to all of this? Why has god forsaken me in such a way? Soon. Soon, I would know. But, the authorities were coming for me, and I had to run. I walked down the street, wandering aimlessly, not even remembering where I was.

I needed clothing. I had nothing. Nothing at all. I searched empty warehouses, and abandoned buildings. I didn'te ven know my name. Who was I? I am a stranger.

Stranger. That's what I was. But I wasn't strange, or any sort of level higher than another strange person. I was just, an unfamiliar. People are unfamiliar with me, just as I am other people. I settled down in an old warehouse, and slept once more.

I awoke. This time, the same black device was sitting on the floor, awaiting me. I pressed the button.

"Need some help? I know you do. I left you the pistol you dropped. The bullet is still there. It awaits your next command. Come on. Think about it. Don't resist, it won't get you anywhere." The message stopped. I looked at the pistol. Someone was following me. They knew where I was. I unloaded the pistol. I removed the bullet, and threw it into the street. I began dismantling the pistol. I took every part off of it. I scattered the parts across the room. Paranoid, I left the room.

I made sure to check behind me constantly. I was in London, I'd found a map. I couldn't say exactly where I was, but I kept walking. I walked, and walked. eventually, I came to an enourmous, and very fancy looking building. I looked on the map. Buckingham palace. I thought to myself, about why all these people were here, and whats with all the guards? A police officer looked at me.

"Hey, you." He said. I looked up. He was looking at me. "Yeah, you. Come here." I stared him in the eye. He was across the street. I didn't obey. "I said, come here. Come on." I just stared at him, my mind frozen. "Christ." He said. He pulled on his radio, and said something very quietly, so that I couldn't hear. But I read his lips. In my mind, I could hear him say "I've found our guy, I think he knows, though." I swore under my breath. I folded up my map.
"Yes, officer?" I said.
"You're not from around here, are you?" He said.
"I don't know." I said.
"You do realize why I need you, right?"
"A little bit, not entirely." He looked at me suspiciously. He was about to pull something on me, but I was too quick. I grabbed his hand, and twisted it, as his gun flew away, hitting the street. His other hand came up, and I was blasted with incapacitant, as I shrugged back, shouting.
"Well? Shoot him!" One yelled. I opened my eyes, but they stung. I started running my fastest down the street. Bullets whizzed past me. Citizens scattered. My eyes burned, but I didn't care. I heard sirens, and at that moment, I spotted a street bike.
"Give me the keys!" I shouted at the man just getting off. He looked seriously scared, and tossed them to me. I hopped on the bike, and started it up. I sped off up the street. More of the police vehicles started down the street towards me. I took a turn, and swerved past a police car, but found myself rocketing towards St. James's park. I smashed through the enterance, and was having trouble controlling myself. A bullet hit the back wheel, and the rubber sheared off. I started losing control. I hit the pavement, and almost a car. I looked ahead, and a police van pulled out in front of me, and men with rifles got out. I swerved around, and clipped the front with my leg. I looked back to see what they were doing, and all I saw was a long streak of a bullet hit me in the chest. I let go of the handle bars, and fell to the street, ripping at my flesh, and the motorcycle skidded off into a wall. My face was scraped, and I was bleeding profusely.
"Cuff him!" They yelled. I could barely hear myself think. I saw the men coming to get me. I pushed off of the ground with so much strength, and started sprinting. My chest was burning, the blood coming out. I covered it with my hand, and kept on running. I heard officers swearing in disbelief. One more bullet hit me in the elbow. I felt more thumps agains my body as they hit me in the legs, and my back. I fell down. I was dizzy. I tried crawling.
"Jesus, help him up, get an ambulance!" An officer said. They ripped open my shirt, probably wondering if I had some sort of vest on.
"Holy crap." one of them said. "This guy took that many bullets, and he's still up..." I swung at them, hitting one, he shrugged back, and I used my elbows to prop myself up, and my knees. I limped away as fast as I could, my blood leaking from everywhere.
"Hold your fire!" One said. "Come on guy! give it up!" One yelled. I continued far away as I could. I was blinded, and I didn't even see the bus coming. All that I felt was my face hit the front.

Somewhere on earth, the real killer responded mentally.

Inside the hospital room, I could feel the warmth on my skin... The surgeons yelled at one another as they operated on me, snipping skin, and inserting their metal parts. I was deeply asleep, but I was aware of my surroundings. A sort of pseudo-sleep. I was sitting there for days and days, and it was so stressful.

"Dammit." One of the surgeons swore loudly, over and over again.
"It's not your fault. This one was dead from the start." I heard those words come spewing out from such an ignorant mouth. I sprang back to life. My eyes opened up, and intense pain flooded my body. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my vocal chords screaming in pain with me, stretching them to spaghetti-thin lines. The suregons jumped, and looked at me.
"Jesus christ!" One yelled.
"What do we do?" One screamed back. My arms flailed, and my eyesight was drenched in red, like my eyes were filling with blood. I ripped the cords out of me, my arms knocked things around. I was breathing heavy, luckily, I was patched up, and only a few cuts were what I could feel, but now I was feeling immense pain. I still had my regular clothing on. I puched my way through the suregons, as they looked horrified at me. I must have been a sight, infuriated with someone, and covered in blood. I wanted to get out of this hospital. I didn't bother with the door. I ran as fast as I could into the glass wall. It smashed apart, and I rammed into the hallway. I sprinted down the corridors, knocking people aside, and yelling, shouting, things I forgot I had ever said. I saw people dialing for the police. I pushed open the door, and people on the sidewalk stared at me in horror, running away. Cars sped away. I ran aimlessly, wandering around London for hours. I was still in pain.
"Where are you?!" I yelled into the air. "Where'd you go, you killer?" I was looking for the person following me. Where were they? I didn't need the hospital. My eyes were blinded with randomness, people I had once seen were appearing running at me, and disappearing before they could walk into me. I was hallucinating.

The authorities crowded around me, and warned me to stop. I looked at them. I shouted words at them, words I could not understand, words I didn't know, words they couldn't hear, words written in an acient language, languages nobody's ever heard. The things I said, I couldn't remember. I charged them, and my bodsy was pelted with stun rounds. I fell to the ground.
"There is someone following me! It's coming for me!" I shouted, but they didn't take notice. Between all the commotion, I looked up at the rooftops. A shadowy figure silhouetted between me and the sky, was watching me. His arms behind his back. He was about my size. I stared at him, and shouted vulgarities at him.
"I'll get you, you sick bastard! Come down here, you freak! COME DOWN HERE!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. One of the policemen hit me with something. I shouted, and struggled, but it was no use. I thumbed around ath the cuffs, but they already had five pairs of them on my wrists. They were cuffing up my feet, and I flailed around violently, trying to get away. I got a grip of my feet on the pavement, and tried to get up, but they were too strong. I gave up, and later I was brought to a diffrent hospital, and drugged. I fell into a deep sleep, and didn't wake up for weeks.

"Hello." A person said in front of me. It was bright where I was, and couldn't make him out, but that pistol I tried to get rid of so many times was on the table next to me. "I believe you know who I am." It was the shadowy figure from before.
"I know. I know what you want me to do." I picked up the pistol, and slowly brought it until it rested on my skull.
"Yes, do it. It's the only thing you can do." I held it at my skull, but quickly, I pointed it at the person in front of me. I pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the figure. It disappeared, but all that I could see of it was in a mirror. The mirror was cracked, the bullet stuck in it.
"What? WHAT?" I shouted. I realized it, finally. The person who was tracking me, was me. In my sleep, I left those messages for myself. I weeped silently into my hands. I threw the empty pistol across the room. All those times I was talking to myself, trying to convince myself suicide was the right thing to do. I thought in my head. What is going on? How did I get those pistols? My heart of paper was deteriorating. I needed to find out how this all happened. I need to find it now. Who was doing this to me? Why were they doing this?

I walked out of the room I was in. I had found a new pair of clothes in my room. A pair of somewhat loose blue jeans, and a zippered sweater. It was black., and had lots of pockets. I had a wallet, and a new ID. My hair was different, my face was a bit different. I was a new person. I found that there were no people within this structure. I grinned to myself. I was wearing a brown shirt, and a pair of shoes that looked like hiking boots. I had a note that said "See your record at record room." I know where to find records. I walked own the hallway, and finally I was clear on what I was supposed to do. It was a new day.