Plato's Night

Gian-Luca surged forwards, sitting up from his bed. He gasped for air, taking massive heaves of breath. His lips were trembling and his hands were shaking. His eyes were snapped open, and felt as if they were being squeezed out to inevitably leave empty sockets.

The image he created was suddenly too familiar.

Gian-Luca's throat convulsed and he leaned to the side of his bed, throwing up. The vile substance that left his mouth would not stop; it was a constant flow. He began choking on his own vomit, and coughed up even more in the process. When it was all over, he wiped his mouth and sat alongside his bed. His body still trembled. He felt fear, but he also felt cold; it was a combination of the both that brought about his shaking.

He hated that he understood everything all too quickly. He hated that he could now confirm his feelings. Because now, he understood why he feared Vidia.

It was always around Vidia, whether seeing her or hearing her, that Gian-Luca felt his anxiety initiate. He had always asked himself why, why did the presence of his sister instill fear within him?

Why was he scared of his own sister?

It's because she wasn't. Vidia wasn't Gian-Luca's sister.

Yvox wasn't even Gian-Luca's last name. It was Smith, Gian-Luca Smith.

He felt himself shiver. It was cold, and dark. He could hear Ian snoring across the room, but the fact that the lights were off meant that it was well into the night.

Night, something Gian-Luca realized he hadn't even seen in a while. The night sky, its darkness that enveloped everything it set over. Where was the night sky, where was the day sky? In the facility, there was no sky.

"How did I get here?" Gian-Luca asked himself. Although a great worrier, he felt no need to panic over the life situation he currently found himself in. He understood the great powers involved, and that his path was now set-in-stone.

Stone, like a cave. He felt like he had just exited a cave. A cave in which he was chained and stuck, unknowing of the truth found outside the cave. But now, he learned the truth.

He was outside the cave, but it was dark outside. There was no sun, there was no light. Since there was no sun, there was no heat. No light and no warmth upon exiting the cave, but frost and darkness.

He was met with a cold and dark truth, one that he would've rather have stayed hidden. By shining light on the blackened truth, a black hole was created—it slowly sucked in his withering will to live. He wished he just stayed unknowing, he wished he had amnesia. Whatever had caused him to lose his memories before, he wish would come back again; to inflict the same memory-losing effect on his unwell-being.

Gian-Luca wanted to go back inside the cave. Back inside the cave where he didn't understand the truth. Back inside the cave where it was slightly brighter; there was a fire lit inside. Back inside the cave where it was warmer. Because outside, it was cold. It was freezing. Like frost that would settle on top his skin. Like ice that would glaze over his already-chilling flesh.

His hands were now cold, its hairs standing erect. They were stiff and frozen, as if they were pulled out of ice. He felt himself shiver, once again at the cold.

Cold were his hands, just like someone else's.

He recognized the feeling:

As cold as Abel's hands.