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C forConfrontation




Werner Krieg is dead.

My childhood torturer, the man who murdered my parents and used me and my brother as guinea pigs for his scientific experiments on twins has finally left this world.

For years I have dreamed about his death – I came very close to be his executioner once – but, strange as it may seem, I didn’t feel any joy when I learned about his demise. Truth be told, I didn’t felt sad either.

I didn’t know how to feel. Still don't.

Or perhaps I do. I just don’t want to admit it. No matter how much I try to deny it, the fact is we are both alike.

I often recall the last time we were together. He asked me then if I liked Nietzsche. When I remember that moment, it always brings to my mind one of the philosopher’s most famous quotes: “When you stare too long at the abyss, the abyss starts staring back at you.” Something like that, I think. I never found a decent translation.

Looking at Krieg is, was, like looking into a mirror, one that reflected who I really was inside. In a way, I feel I have more in common with Krieg, than I do with my twin brother Jacob. We we were one and the same, physically, as well as mental, but Jacob had one thing I never had – at least not until it was too late to make any difference – which was courage. When the time came to do what was necessary, he didn’t turn a blind eye. He did what he had to do and risked his life to do so, while I stood cowardly behind.

I was a coward then. Still am, as a matter of fact. I ignored his warnings, his advices. Even after the accident that put him in a coma I still wouldn’t see – wouldn’t believe – what was going on around me.

Was I really dumb enough not to know, or too scared to admit it?

Last time we met, Werner told me there were no differences between the work he had done and the work I was doing. Whether I was aware of it or not, the facts were unequivocal: I exploited children against their will. Just like Werner did to me.

I wonder what would have happen to Jarod if he hadn’t escape. Would he become like me? Would I want him to be like that? Do I still want it?

Unfortunately, that is something for which I’ll have no answer anytime soon. Jarod is on the run and he’s not coming back here, no matter what I might say. Can’t say I don’t understand why, because I do.

The only reason I’m still here is because I promised Catherine that I would always look out for her little girl. “Her little girl” is almost forty years old now, and The Centre’s influence is already too powerful but, sometimes, I see a glimpse of her true self and convince myself there is still a chance.

I wish I could tell her all the truth she deserves to know. About her, about her brother, her real father, her mother’s plan. I know all those things and it pains me to keep them a secret from her. But I must. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her some of the things I know. Plus, she won’t forgive me for half of them.

That’s why she needs to figure things out for herself. She needs to accommodate her spirit in order to accept what lies ahead. There’s a long journey yet to be made and I can only accompany her to a certain point. I trust Angelo and Jarod, as well as Ethan, will keep her on the right track.

Angelo is the only one who knows what I know and more – except, maybe, Ethan – and he has already forgiven me.

People tend to underestimate Angelo’s abilities, but he’s one of the brightest men I have ever known. Almost as bright as Jarod. The main difference between them is his speech impediment – courtesy of the then Dr. Raines – that complicates most interactions with the people around him. For most people, talking with Angelo is like talking to a two year old. They should remember that most of the subjects on the Pretender Project were brought to The Centre when they were still toddlers.

He’s often regarded as a mental retarded, useful only because of his empathic abilities, and that’s how he’s managed to learn everything that is to know about The Centre. The day that information is displayed publicly, The Centre will finally cease to exist.

Sometimes, I imagine myself being taken away in the middle of the night, put in a cell and just being left there until someone would consider to pay me a visit. Exactly like how it was done to Jarod, Angelo or Kyle. I imagine mebeing a prisoner just like they were.

Just like I was.

Deja vú.


I will pay for my crimes, of that I’m sure. I’ve accepted that. But I want to make a change first.

And for that to happen I will to have to be on the inside and take care of things. Just for a little while longer.

Chapter End Notes:

Werner Krieg. The name has a certain mystery... something about it.

So... any thoughts on it? Don't be shy.

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