Chapter Text
Some people will casually say "I've got nothing left to lose" but do they truly grasp the full meaning behind that phrase?
Does anyone out there know what it really feels like to have nothing left to lose?
You've often contemplated whether or not you yourself knew what having nothing left to lose felt like, but with the direction you were heading in now? You were pretty certain that you knew exactly what having nothing left to lose feels like.
And. It. Is. Dangerous.
You've been in the Entity's realm for around six months now, and it has been nothing but a downhill battle for you.
It felt as if bad luck and failure had become your number-one fans. No matter how hard you tried, nothing ever worked out. You hit walls and dead ends in every obstacle you faced. Even when you attempted to apply what you had learned and put it to good use, nothing ever went right. Nothing ever worked out.
And, for the life of you, you can't figure out 'why'?
What was happening? What were you doing wrong? What was wrong with you? What could you do to better yourself? Why couldn't you succeed at literally anything? Why did you keep failing when you always fought so hard to achieve?
And why wouldn't anyone else help you?
During trials, you were known to be a complete and utter nuisance.
For some reason, your moral compass during trials led you straight in the direction of the killer even though you tried your damnedest to stay cautious and well hidden. Yet you always ended up running face first into the enemy.
Healing your team members was more complicated than it needed to be as you never could heal them properly without taking too long, accidentally injuring them, or using up too much supplies before they were properly mended.
Generators always blew up in your face. No matter how hard you tried, even when you did exactly what your team members said, the generators always malfunctioned within a minute of your touch.
Basically, you sucked at everything.
But the frustrating thing is that you 'knew' that you were doing everything right, but for some reason every single thing continously blew up in your face. It was as if the entire world was against you. You listened, you observed, and you learned how to do everything correctly, but yet still nothing worked out, and you couldn't figure out 'why'?
You felt cursed, trapped, hated, alone, depressed, frustrated, and angry.
The worst part was how none of the other survivors desired helping you any longer. In the beginning they tried to give you advice when possible, but after noticing that their words and sacrifices had no beneficial impact, they gradually quit helping and sympathizing with you. Now they only saw you as a burden and a pest who was utterly useless during trials. They cursed you and the bad luck you brought, and they isolated themselves from your presence even outside of trials.
Another worst part is how badly you 'wanted' to do better. You 'wanted' to be a good team member. You 'wanted' to fix generators. You 'wanted' to heal them and save them. You 'wanted' to quit randomly running into the enemy. You have good intentions. You have a big heart and you 'care'. You don't know where all of this bizarre bad luck was coming from.
But, no matter how much you tried to explain your honest, pure-hearted intentions and feelings to your team members, they never wanted to listen. The most they would ever say is "I don't know what to tell you", or "that really sucks", or "how do you think we feel", or "there's nothing I can really do about it", or "you're on your own, pal".
These responses combined with endless failure have caused you to change.
Nothing was right anymore. You felt trapped-stuck, like you were in a deep, dark, cold well with no light. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, nothing was good enough. Nothing ever changed. It was maddening. Words can't describe just how hard you tried to do better and make things work. You seriously tried, but no one noticed or cared. You were all alone. No one would hear or see just how desperate and passionate you were about changing and doing better. You didn't understand what was happening or why you kept failing.
Where is all of the failure coming from?
It was beginning to drive you insane. You swore there was something unbelievably wicked happening- almost like you were being targeted by the Gods of misfortune and failure, but you couldn't explain it and you couldn't figure it out. You wanted peace, happiness, acceptance, and achievement, but it was becoming more and more clear that no matter what you did or how hard you tried, nothing good was going to happen.
You were doomed.
The isolation and string of failures drove you into a corner you couldn't get out of. You soon stopped trying to find solutions as thoughts of death and relief clouded your mind. You started craving a way out- an escape from all of the pain, misery, and anguish. Nothing was worth doing anymore. It was pointless to keep going. Everything only ended in failure and shame. You were unwanted, worthless, and cursed.
And so, with no friends and no way forward, you felt as though there was only one solution.
Permanent death.
At first it came with daydreams and fantasies that you soon tried to turn into reality with broken glass or a makeshift noose with your jacket and pants, but you were never brave enough to pull through with it. So stupid. You couldn't even succeed at killing yourself. How pathetic.
The biggest burst of hope you had ever felt hit you when you accidentally overheard Claudette and Dwight privately speaking about having a meeting with the killer leader about keeping the Singularity out of survivor camp territory. They complained about hating having meetings with the killers and wishing that they would simply stay on their side of the external realm.
But you didn't care about their complaints. No.
The only thing you could think about was the fact that the killers were reachable in the external realm. You didn't know why you had never known before. Perhaps it was because you never got to spend much time with your team members outside of trials, and you never traveled too far in any direction.
None of that mattered though. The point is that you knew now. The killers were within in reach.
'Killers' were within reach.
A sick, twisted kind of hope kept you up for nights smiling through sobs and rainstorms of tears as an odd kind of relief flooded you at the thought of finally being free. You would fantasize about one of the killers like Michael Myers or the Trapper or Jason piercing you in the heart with their sharp weapon, their cold body holding you close as you slowly drifted into peaceful nothingness within their merciless embrace.
They would do it. They would be the ones to grant you your wish and kill you. It would all be over. No more failure and hopelessness. No more glares of disappointment and disapproval. No more isolation. You'd be free. Everything would finally come to an end, and you didn't even have to feel guilty about it. The killers were serial killers for crying out loud; they'd probably love nothing more than to stab a willing victim through the heart.
You hoped that's how they did it, too. Straight through the heart. You didn't know why, but there was something weirdly comforting about dying by a wound to the heart. Most would want it to be fast and painless, but you found it rather reassuring to know that at least one person would be there, holding you tightly... Even if it was to take your life.
It's so fucking sad.
But you're done. You're done with this life. You've had enough. Nothing is working out. Nothing good is happening. No one cares about you or wants to help. You're done.
It's time to end it all.
'This'?
'This' is what having nothing left to lose feels like.
After a week of planning, you finally made your move.
And you felt 'fantastic'.
This was it. This was the day it finally happened- the day where all of your pain and suffering came to a permanent end. It was great. You were excited. You could almost 'feel' the sheer giddiness and relief that would cascade through you in your final moments. You were so close. Not much longer.
Racing through the external woods, it took you around an hour to make it to the notorious wall of realms, and from there you entered the first gate belonging to one of your chosen angels.
The MacMillan Estate.
You walked inside with unrivaled confidence. Inside the pockets to your jacket, heavy rocks clicked and clacked together. You knew that simply asking a killer to kill you was too risky, and that is why you came prepared. At this point, you didn't care what happened to you. It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered!
Because. You. Have. Nothing. Left. To. Lose.
Searching the small, lit cabin first, noise from a nearby shed of some sort caught your attention, and you quietly wandered towards it.
Through the opened, steel door, you saw the unmistakable silhouette of the Trapper standing at the other end of the room in front of a table. His back was towards you, and his attention was fully centered around the object he was taking a hammer to.
For a moment, you just stood there and stared. A smile spread across your face, and warm, ecstatic tears dribbled down your cheeks. Your dark, suicidal fantasies flashed through your mind, and you felt 'free'.
Walking in a few steps, you reached into your pocket, grabbed a rock, and took in a deep breath, and you threw that rock with the force of a champion baseball pitcher. Before it even landed, you were reaching for another and positioning to throw it.
The first rock barely missed the Trapper's right arm, loudly slamming into the wall in front of him and bouncing against the table. He jerked and dropped his hammer.
The second rock hit him in the upper back.
Realizing that someone was attacking him, the Trapper spun around.
You didn't try to read his expression as you threw the third rock. It didn't matter what he was thinking. He'd want you dead all the same. This was just a tactic to spur him into acting immediately without asking questions.
The Trapper managed to dodge the third rock, and when he did so he released a loud, furious growl similar to the ones he made during trials.
Trap successful. Bear angry.
You grinned and spun around to race back out of the building. Adrenaline pounded through you like thunder. You could feel your heart drumming against your rib cage. You were disgustingly ecstatic.
Once you were a ways into the small field between the shed and the cabin, you stopped and turned to face your angel.
The Trapper was rushing towards you at a brisk pace, but there was no weapon to be seen in his hands or brown apron. That's okay. He could kill you with his bare hands. You've already imagined death by strangulation. It was fine.
In the end, it didn't matter how you were killed. It just mattered that it 'happened'.
And, right now, you were literally betting your life on it.
'Almost' there.
Your lips wobbled tremendously as tears poured down your face. It was difficult to hide your grin of anticipation and pure excitement, but you tried. You were so happy right now, you couldn't stand it.
You were about to die.
You were about to be 'set free'.
As the infuriated killer stomped closer to you, you stared at him like the angel you fully believed him to be. Yes, you knew he was a killer, but because of that fact, you were about to be relieved of countless heaps of pain and misery. You could already feel it happening and he hadn't even touched you yet.
Unbeknownst to you, the Trapper significantly slowed down when he saw the crippled yet twisted expression of joy on your teary face. He was furious, yes, but he didn't quite understand what was going on at the moment. Why were you here? Why did you attack him like that just to run a tiny ways away and stop to face him? You didn't appear to be in any position to fight back. What was wrong with you? And why were you crying and smiling at the same time?
Nonetheless, you still pissed him off.
Closing the distance between the two of you, Evan reached out with a rough hand, grabbed a fist-full of your jacket and yanked you close.
Your eyelids squeezed shut as you trembled in anticipation. This was the first time anyone had touched you outside of trials, and it was going to be the last. And that's okay. You were fine with this- happy, in fact. Right now, at rock bottom and with nothing left to lose, you didn't see the Trapper as a killer at all. No.
You saw him as an angel who was fixing to set you free from a hopeless hell you failed to get yourself out of.
Unlike how you imagined, he was warm to the touch. He smelt of iron, welding slag, and oak. His face was much different than you had imagined but still just as mean and intense. For a split second, you wondered what his real name was, but it didn't really matter.
He was going to kill you. And you were going to be permanently set free.