Chapter Text
You never will exit that catatonic state, you’ll stay the same. After they pulled you out of that restraint room the next morning, you noticed– you never saw Delacroix, Mr. Jingles, or that spool ever again. You guess his seat in purgatory must’ve ended, and whether he was square with the house for dying that horrible death or sentenced to hell for his sins, you wouldn’t know, and which happened wouldn’t matter to you either way. Because you’re sure when you die, you won’t go to either of those immortal plains. Because Percy Wetmore would have believed nothing of anything, and he’d go to float in an empty abyss in that same fetal position as when he realized it didn’t matter, and from when he was born. “It’ll be okay.” You think to yourself, and it really will. Because you live in comfort knowing that nothing matters anymore in your mind, body, and soul. You’ll die not happy, but content. Because the ultimately horrible life of Percy Wetmore will finally be over.