Again.

I tilt my head, nausea slipping into my stomach. "People are starting to think like you again."

His eyes are inhuman. "I don't think they ever stopped."

I can't look at those eyes. My blanket is strangled between my fingers, twist and twist and twist. "Did you really believe? In all that you did?"

He is not natural. Even in death, he is a demon. "I believed I was God."

Breath escapes my lips in a tiny sigh. "They're starting to do that again, too. Believe that they're God."

Dark eyes. Ghost eyes. Dead eyes, empty even in life. "And again, they never stopped."

A flame of loathing, pinpricks on eyes. "Why? Why would you--" I can't reason with this creature. I don't want to hear its answers.

"Why was I who I was? We all make choices. Sacrifices."

A quote whispers in my mind. Chills skitter down my spine. "One death is a tragedy."

"One million is a statistic." His words continue, as low and cordial as before.

Twist and twist. This isn't real. Sweat coats my palms. "I hate you."

"Many do. Many have. It still does not matter."

"You never cared for anyone."

His eyes, I can't stand his eyes. "Perhaps not. But what use is caring? Death overwhelms love. There is nothing more prevalent than death."

Another whisper, another quote. "Death is the solution to all problems. No man..."

"No problems." He doesn't stop staring at me. "Was I remembered?"

I flinch. "So you care about that?"

"No." He doesn't stop staring.

Breath comes short. "Yes. Yes you were."

And there is fury again, a candle flame, burning bright and hot. And there is terror, for people remember, but never learn. And sorrow, for the sin of man, even for the sin of those who are not men at all. "People never learn."

"No, they do not. They are shallow creatures. They desire order, always order. Freedom is forever unnatural to the human state. Give them perfect order, and they will follow, sheep to slaughter."

Fury and terror and sorrow. "You took away God. You took away family. You took away love. You took away individuality." My voice rises with every charge. "You removed what it means to be human, and they're trying to do it again." The words drop away into a sob. "They say that socialism is a good thing, and that family is a bad thing, and that God is meaningless and silly. They say you can't speak, and you must agree, and you can't say no. Wear this mask, take this vaccine, believe what we tell you, and it will be okay."

He listens, silence floods the room.

The blanket is soaked with sweat, twisted, twisting. "It's not going to be okay."

"You will not think so."

I finally look up, stare straight into those eyes. "You're dead. Do you now believe in God?"

He doesn't answer.

Fury terror sorrow. "Do you?"

A beat. "I have been judged. But God remains a lie."

furyterrorsorrow

"Go away."

FuryTerrorSorrow.

He smiles, small, and horrible in its normality. "They are thinking again. Or rather, not thinking. My ideas never died, child. I was not the first, and I was not the last."

Again and again and again and again

FURYTERRORSORROW

"Go away!"

He was not the first, and he is not the last.

The phantom dissolves. The presence lingers.

Tears slip across my cheeks, dripping down my nose as I slump into my pillows.

Again.

What does the future hold?

Again.

And again.

And again.