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Time was ticking by slowly.
Slower than normally, slower than ever.
He felt his last breath rattle in his chest. Too loud, too far away.
God fucking damnit.
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He felt a presence. Neutral or.. He can’t remember. What can’t he remember? Something was missing from his memory, fleeing his grasping hands. Fuck. Fuck.
Some brain function kicked itself back into working and he felt pain. Pure white agony as air was forced into his collapsed lungs. He screamed, he knew he did because his throat burned from the effort, but he heard nothing. Silence kept ringing in his ears, even that was somehow too loud.
“Adam”
The pain halted, sputtered and stopped for a second as if it too got called to attention. The voice was like an anchor, and Adam as a drowning man clung to anything inreach of him.
He remembered that happening a lot, drowning people drag others down with them too, he knows that, but he doesn't care.
“Adam” again. He can’t tell where the sound is coming from. A faint echo from all round, but at the same time a thought in his head, a feeling in his heart and a ripple in his soul.
His eyes snap open, he knows that- that voice and feeling. In the end opening his eyes is a useless action as there is nothing to see. He knows this now - the abyss. A black maw, ever hungry for more shadows to consume.
And Adam knows what’s waiting for him, They know that he knows too. He acknowledges that they could go on like this forever, a small part of him desperately wants to do that, - him ignoring everything and Them waiting. Time doesn’t move or even exist here, so everything lasts too long and is finished in no time at all.
“..I-.i...” His mouth doesn't want to move as he commands it. He has time, but he feels anger at his own helplessness. Short fucking fuse and all that. He closes his eyes to the abyss, one thing at a time, and slowly, oh so slowly, “...I- I die..d.”
He swallows, “I.. died”
His words don’t echo, they sound as if he had solid walls around him and not an all consuming darkness. Adam was aware that the only thing keeping him from being ripped apart and devoured was - Them.
He hid his fear, swallowed it down deep and tried to call on the familiar anger. It was weak, almost nonexistent, slipping away. Fuck! That can't be. His armour stripped of him, for centuries and millenniums he had refined it all into a wall of protection, They have no right!
But he’s still only left with nothing. Come on Adam get your shit together! He can’t tell direction, nor if he moved or did They? Just that he blinked and he was facing Them. His breath lodged in his throat, feeling the pure power radiating off the creature in waves, like rays of light and waves of warmth.
Meeting those burning eyes once again- he felt as naked as the day he was created, as bare as his soul. And looking into the eyes of his creator sends sharp shudders down his spine.
Were They disappointed? Angry? Had he fucked up too bad? He wasn’t supposed to die again, was he?
He was made in Their image, but can they even still see that? Has he tarnished it too much, ruined another thing? His hands were shaking. He hates feeling so small and powerless in front of Them - or anyone.
When he was created, from the moment he opened his eyes, and before he realised what was happening, there were angels. So many and so different from him. He’s had eyes on him since his creation. Over time he learned to decipher the reflections in that endless sea of eyes. They were always judging, pitying or laughing. Silly little creature he was, but the angels had bowed before him at Their command and from then on he was held to an unachievable standard.
A standard only perfect angles could strive to reach, he tried and achieved but then they only raised it to the Heavens. A wingless human can’t touch the skies, doesn't matter how much he wants it, not before the end. And he wanted to touch the blue sea up above, float among the pillows of soft clouds, so badly. The only thing he retained from those early days was the familiar sting of helplessness and bitter truths about angels.
The burning eyes blinked and Adam was snapped back - against his power he felt regret crawling up his spine, because all he did to those below him was.. Was- it was exactly like the angels to him. Yes. But it was for survival, he didn’t want to as it… it was different. He was remembering, but something was still out of reach.
“Hmm,” a pause and Adam hid his shaking hands in his robes, “You died.”
Adam flinched back as if They had just struck him. Dissatisfied. Unpleasant feelings sprung up in him, but no fuck, he had to get a grip. Where was the arrogant, selfish Adam of Heaven? The first man made Angel! The mask he wore had been physically destroyed in the fight, but Adam could feel its shadow lingering like an old friend, it was almost enough. Almost.
“You’ll have time to work through it.” A slight shift of Their chin and Adam immediately knew that was a command. No push-back.
“Yes-s. I… I’m sorry,” he forced out, anything to escape the silence. It was starting to suffocate him. He got no visible reaction, They only let out a breath of air. It was mocking, questioning, ‘Was he?’
He was shaking like a leaf, and his knees gave out involuntarily. Fuck- was he? He wanted to believe that so bad, but he- he had done horrible things. He hadn’t felt regret then, why would he feel it now? No, but once he is forced to face the consequences- he feels, so much that it's overwhelming. His death was his own doing! But is that something to regret? Isn’t everyone fucking happy about his demise–
He couldn’t get enough air and what little vision he had was blurry. He hugged his shaking hands around himself. Was he laughing or crying? Fuck- fuck it all! His thoughts were all over the place. No wait no! Repent, can’t you see the monster you’ve become? He ḏ̶̡̨̛̺̰͎̬͛̎͗̅͌̒͂͘͜͠͝ug his fingers into his sides. T̵͎̾͠ȟ̶̢̢͈̪͕̝̥̰̳̫̟̠̖̀͗̀̀̉̏̌͒̓͜͝ͅȅ̸̡̢̩̬̲͇͚̰̰͖̩̝̃͗̅͒̌͐͒̓̀̾̈́͘ pric̷̫̠̳̲̞̯͙̯̫̭͕͚͠ͅe for r̶̨͔̗͈̻̺̻̻̄͋̉̕é̴̘̬̪̜̟̀̅͋̍demptiơ̸̢̠̪̅̍́͒̊̄͆̔̎n would bę̴̙̔͊ too mu̷̧̨͈͕̪̯̰̯͉͓̤͂̈́̉͜ͅc̸̭̱̬̙̖̜̹̻̜͔̗͈̺͇͚͂̾͝͠h for̷͙̲̞̗͖̗͍̹͐̔͒̍̓̇͘ all h̸̛͍̪̭̮̟́̂̈͊͌͝͠è̷̢̛̻̼͍͎͖̞̈͘͝͝ had dò̴̢̢͈̲̻͈̼̙̟͓͉͙̻͇̪̒̇̔̏n̸̛̼͓̺̘̼͇̹̮̞͓͗̓̔͝è̷̢̛̻̼͍͎͖̞̈͘͝͝-̴͖͒͊̓̀̈́̄͠ h̷̖̰̗̫͇͈̳̘͗̍e̵̛͚͉͍̥̙͑͛̀, - Ā̵̢̧̠̘̙͎͎̜̘͕̗̙͙͇̔̈́̂͊̋̀̍̑̑̚͜d̸̈́̔̋̀̚ͅǎ̶̟̹͉̳̅̆m̶̡̛̱̺̓̒͛̀̓̒-
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The Č̷̮̻̦̘̙̯̯͎̏̈́̆̀͂͊͌͜r̶̢̬̭̬͔͖̗̯̙̀͊̒̍e̵̯̮̍̂̌̃̈́á̸̦̟̻̜̦͗̿̄͛̋ṭ̶̢̭̝̠́̃́̕͘͝ò̶̦͙̘͈̳͉͔̳̼̂͌̿͗̊̈́r̶̡̮͚̗̭̦̼̘̦̥̬͗̚͘͝ watched as their very first creation of a man sobbed and laughed like a madman.
Â̷̮ḍ̸̅a̶̡̚m̶͉̾ must work though his own problems. They almost felt a fickle of something towards the creature in front of them, almost. Shaped by their own hands, and everything ends where it begins.
The price of redemption for Â̷̮ḍ̸̅a̶̡̚m̶͉̾ is his unravelling. They could see it already, the mess of strings was unwinding.
It’ll take time, and he’ll remain here forever, but live lifetimes in seconds.
They left Â̷̮ḍ̸̅a̶̡̚m̶͉̾ behind once more.