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no matter where he was, there was not a single place where the man belonged.
007n7 could hardly find a reason to keep going anymore. the first time this had happened, he tried to escape, and was severely punished for it by being sent to another realm or dimension that he considered similar, if not exactly like, hell. it wasn’t much different than the life he led before in the real world of robloxia, constantly dragging himself up out of bed, the only difference now was he was being physically hurt every day by others.
it didn’t seem to matter where he was though, be it robloxia or the neverending realm of torture he had been sent to, he didn’t belong. even all the poor souls that were trapped with him, all of them got along nicely, like a proper team. then there was the ex-hacker.
most didn’t spare him more than a glance, and even when they did, such as the ever admirable guest 1337, always trying to make everyone feel included and part of the team, it just never felt genuine to 7n7. how could anyone possibly want some pathetic excuse of a man to be included on their team? one that couldn’t even use his hacks to a fraction of their full potential anymore, being rendered essentially useless to the others. his only abilities were to keep himself alive.
day by day he watched the others talk amongst themselves, sharing smiles and laughs over food after rounds, playing games, all things that he would never allow himself to indulge in. he would be out of there and hiding like a recluse in his cabin before anyone could notice his absence. personally inviting him was useless, too, as he would turn down anyone who dared knock on his door trying to get him to socialize. this would, again, usually be guest, making an attempt to include the ex-hacker in things, so needlessly worried for someone who, in his own eyes, wasn’t worth a smidgen of the trouble. this always deflated the ex-soldier a bit, seeing that sad figure surrounded in the darkness of his room, just barely opening up the door enough to see who was there, only to mumble something about not being interested, or “maybe next time”.
this day was no different than any other. guest 1337 sat around the large group of survivors who had accumulated over the years, people he saw as not just friends or a team, but a family, in some twisted definition of the word. all they had was each other in this place, guest saw no reason why grudges should be held between people or survivors should be left out when everyone needed to work together to support one another.
sitting at the large dinner table beside the empty chair he was so tragically used to seeing, guest couldn’t eat, simply staring at his food with a terrible feeling in his gut. it didn’t matter how many times the ex-hacker skipped their “family” meals, it always worried him sick. the diligent pizza man noticed him from across the table and spoke with a sad smile.
“thinkin’ about seven? you can always try inviting him, but..”
“but he won’t come, i know.” guest finished his sentence for him, now standing up from the table. “you fixed him a share, right? thank you for the meal elliot, but i’m going to try and get him to eat, maybe the one-on-one will make him more comfortable.”
elliot let out a nervous laugh. “sure! just.. don’t get your hopes too high.” he cared for 7n7, truly everyone did to some extent, but even being the person who had been tormented by him for years, elliot didn’t hold a grudge anymore. it was clear the person who terrorized his family business all those years ago was not the same person here with them now.
guest grabbed his own plate and a second one, a plate prepared for the absent survivor. “i’ll be back,” he called out as he walked out of the main cabin.
—--
seven was spiraling again. every single fucking day dragged on and on. exhausting himself trying to get as many generators done as he possibly could, trying to benefit the others in some way, yet all he ever did was weigh them down. it didn’t matter how they tried to talk to him, he almost always shut down a conversation before it could fully start. he didn’t want anyone to have to linger in his presence too long.
staring into the mirror in his bathroom, he looked barren, expressionless. he spent so long forcing himself not to feel anything that it was all he could feel anymore. his fingers traced along his face, disgusted by the rough stubble that grew in sloppy patches along his chin. he never liked his body, even when he had finally gotten on testosterone it barely helped the dysphoria, his facial hair didn’t even grow properly and he was still plump and girly on the outside.
the only time he could remember in his life where he didn’t feel this way, wishing every day that he could disappear and sleep forever, was the time which he had c00lkidd. c00lkidd. he hardly wanted to think about his son, it was the only thing that truly got him to feel something. a pain so deep and guttural, guilt that crawled through his skin, ate him from the inside out. oh, how he missed his son.
he stared down at his pale arms, they were littered with ugly scars. scars he was so familiar with, he just wouldn’t look right without them there. scars he had known almost all his life, scars he’d had to hide from his poor baby boy’s curious eyes. he could still remember the day c00lkidd had noticed his scars and asked about them. “papa, what happened to your arm? you look really hurt!” his sweet little voice had yelped out. he could still hear it in his mind. that was truly the only time in his life he had ever stopped hurting himself, for the only thing that mattered to him, his son that was taken away so cruelly. without him life had no meaning just as it had before a time with c00lkidd, and the grief of losing him weighed so heavy on the father’s shoulders that he took his own life for a first time.
he was just about ready to do it again.
he didn’t know what would even happen to him if he killed himself again. would he just respawn here? would he get taken to some sort of purgatory? would he perhaps meet the spectre itself and be sent to his own, personal hell? or would he just get to rest for eternity? there were a million possibilities, but they all hurt his head to think about. the only thing that truly mattered to him right now was just getting out.
he glanced up to the countertop now, remembering the bottle of liquor he had brought to the bathroom with him. it was a miracle that this got into his possession in a place like this, he was just grateful to have found it. it was the only thing that dulled the pain even a little. he didn’t know how deep he was into the bottle anymore, he’d already taken quite a few gulps from it tonight. his head spun, that familiar dizziness lingering. but it wasn’t enough. tonight, he really wanted to end it. he had tolerated one too many matches against what he didn’t even think he could consider to be his son, the shell of his sweet, precious baby boy who had been so innocent, who would never hurt a fly, now torturing him and the other survivors at the spectre’s will. he had heard his voice one too many times, playfully giggling and declaring he’d won their “game”. he couldn’t bear the taunting anymore, the loss of his baby being pushed down his throat every day of his life in this goddamn hell one too many times.
tonight he was ending it. again.
he stepped out of the bathroom, holding the neck of the bottle in his hand, lifting it up to his lips to take another swig. it burned his throat, he loved the pain. he just needed to find something suitable to kill himself with in his mostly empty cabin. setting down the bottle, he coughed from the roughness of the liquor before starting to look around in cabinets. he had found a few things here and there that were sharp enough to cut himself, but ideally he didn’t want to slit his wrists and bleed out slowly. even if he craved his own suffering, that one was too unrealistic for him. someone would probably end up finding him before he even died anyway, it was hard for him to truly get full peace and quiet in his cabin with people checking on him every day.
he finally found something worth grabbing. an old rope, stowed away in a dusty toolbox he had never bothered to look inside before. it would absolutely do the trick, surely, even though looking around he couldn’t find a suitable place he could hang from, at least he would surely die from asphyxiation, right?
he almost hated the fact that he knew exactly how to tie a noose. the rope seemed a bit frail, but would hopefully endure long enough for him to die. he looked around, the only thing he needed was something to attach it to.. again, he knew he couldn’t properly hang himself, even if there was a good spot, he would surely be too heavy. however, as he looked around, he found something secure he could tie it to: his doorknob.
he gulped as he sat down in front of the door, shutting it tightly so it wouldn’t budge even if he struggled. it would be over quicker if he didn’t think about it, he thought. he swallowed his fears and tied the end of the rope to the knob and made sure it was secure. all that was left to do was to tighten it around his neck.
—--
guest finally arrived to the cabin, each hand holding a plate full of food. he realized he couldn’t knock like this, awkwardly looking around before opting to knock with his foot. “seven? it’s me, guest, i brought you some food if you’re hungry.” he called out to the door, not sure if he’d get a response. he waited, listening for a minute, and got nothing. until he stepped a little closer and heard thrashing inside the cabin. like some sort of struggle. then he heard the choking. guest immediately set down the food and started banging on the door. “7n7, are you okay?!” nothing, only more struggling from behind the door.
he broke down the door with little hesitation, beginning to frantically look around the cabin until he found seven. body pressed tight against a door, a noose tightly gripping his neck, face almost blue with tears streaming down it. he reacted quickly, kneeling beside the ex-hacker and digging out his pocket knife, already beginning to cut at the rope. he was met with force against his body, seven fighting back, trying to keep him from stopping this. seven was too far deep, he was finally going to end all of this, hopefully once and for all this time. he wasn’t very strong, but he managed to knock the pocket knife out of guest’s hand, forcing him to scramble to pick it up. seven could feel it, he was so lightheaded, he was almost there.
by the time guest picked up his pocket knife, it was too late. seven had already stopped struggling. he pleaded frantically, cutting the rope from his neck and tearing it away like it would solve anything. remembering his training, he forced seven’s cold body to lay on its back and started trying to resuscitate via mouth-to-mouth. no matter how hard he pressed onto his chest, how much air he pushed into his lungs, nothing happened. his body laid there, cold, neck scarred by the rope that had ended him.
guest felt sick to his stomach. he had seen so many people die, but never like this. never like this.