he won't listen. Won't accept that I am here, or that He is coming.
he views His shadow upon his wall, and sees it, but cannot see it for what it truly is.
he ignores the signs, the messages. Anything I write, he tears apart. Any accounts from the Runners that I leave open upon the screen, he closes with eyes unseeing. Knowing the strength of his rejection, his eyes will probably skip right across this entry.
I am no Redlight; I cannot hide the world from his view. I wouldn't dare, nor do I have to; he simply refuses to see, to accept.
Fighting... grows more difficult by the day. Without his assistance, without his slight acknowledgment that he is not alone and that I am here, I fight alone. I fight for one who will BE alone when I fall. How much longer can I resist Him? How long can I protect him?
A week. Maybe two. Some nights He comes not at all, but others... I have yet to see any of His, but He is here nonetheless.
You may call me 7, if a name is truly needed; I am he who fights alone. I am he who will fall.
I am no martyr, nor am I worthy of being one of the Titled, the Named.
I am simply... who I am. What I am.
The madness fades as I become more active, and he sleeps more often, but...
I grow weary. he grows weary.
He does not.
One week, and he will be alone. When I am gone... I hope someone is there. Someone who can guide him, if not protect him.
When I fall, Seven will fight alone.