“He’s seen enough death to fill a graveyard. That wouldn’t trigger this. Tell me everything, Intern. Because Sypher is shattering before my eyes.”
My voice cracked, my confession bitter. “We fought, okay? This is all my fault. If I had just told him the truth... none of this... this shit wouldn’t have happened.”
Torment approached Danny, extending his hand, only to have Danny flinch. His choked scream tore through the silence. “Don’t... don’t touch me!”
Torment retreated; his own eyes filled with a chilling understanding.
“Alright, kid. I won’t.” His voice, though softer, held an edge of steel.
“He’s... lost in his head. We need to let him find his way back.” My own voice was tight with suppressed panic.
“What do you mean, ‘lost in his head’?”
“He does this sometimes. Disassociates himself from reality,” I admitted, my voice an inaudible murmur. “But... never this bad. He’s never been this... broken.”
“Disassociates?” Torment’s question, a rasping whisper that scraped against the silence of the room like nails on a chalkboard, echoed the chilling emptiness in Danny’s eyes. “Explain it, Intern. Now.”
The air in the room was suffocatingly thick.
I sank into the stiff chair, the worn fabric digging into my thighs, my head a throbbing weight in my hands. The fluorescent lights hummed a nauseating counterpoint to the rhythmic rocking of Danny’s body on the bed, a percussive beat to his silent suffering. “It began subtly, in his sophomore year. These... episodes. He would withdraw from everything. Classes? Forget it. He barely tolerated breathing near other people. Even me at first. But I could always reel him back in. I’ve pulled him back from the precipice many times. But this...” My voice cracked, raw with grief. My gaze locked onto Danny, a broken marionette muttering incomprehensible gibberish, the rocking motion a desperate, frantic attempt to claw his way back to solid ground. “This... this is different. He’s fallen into the abyss, and I can’t... I can’t reach him.”
My words hung in the air, heavy with the suffocating weight of helplessness.
“Is he suicidal?”
“What?” My gaze snapped up. Torment’s eyes, cold and calculating, bored into mine. “No.”
“These episodes... how many times have you dragged him back from the brink?”
“Three. At least three times I’ve had to wrestle Danny back from the abyss. After a few nights of rest and a mountain of caffeine, Danny would claw his way back to the surface.”
“Before these... episodes... was Sypher stressed?” Torment leaned forward, the flickering neon sign outside casting his face in a strobe of lurid light. His intensity was a physical pressure.
“What the fuck do you think?!” I exploded, years of suppressed fury erupting. “He’s Sypher. The goddamn legend. The Biker Federation’s digital whisperer, dancing on the razor’s edge of their brutal underworld. Reaper has his number on speed dial. Universities were throwing scholarships at him like scraps to a rabid dog. Professors—desperate, pathetic vultures—circled him, tried to pick him clean. Every fucking alphabet group known to man wanted him and tried relentlessly to recruit him. Danny hasn’t been able to take a breath, have a moment of peace, a single goddamn second to himself since he was sixteen and the fucking world discovered the unholy power at his fingertips.”
My hands clenched into fists, my knuckles bone-white.
The weight of Danny’s burden, the crushing pressure he carried, was almost unbearable—even for me.
Torment’s eyes narrowed. “So, the kid’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And you, Intern, you’ve been his anchor.” His voice was steady, but his eyes flickered with a mix of calculation and concern. “What changed this time? Why did he fall so deep?”
I shook my head, my throat tight with the weight of my failure. “I don’t know. Maybe it was Sinclair. Maybe it was the constant pressure. Or maybe...” I trailed off, the truth too bitter to voice.
Torment growled, his gaze boring into mine. “Maybe what, Dante? You need to tell me everything if I’m going to help you pull Sypher back from the edge.”
I took a shuddering breath, my unspoken words clawing at my throat. “It’s my fault. I should have told him the truth and then maybe he wouldn’t have ended up at the Playground with that cunt.”
The room seemed to shrink around me, the stale air heavy with my unspoken truth.
Torment’s expression softened, and the hard edges of his face relaxed as he took a seat at the table. “Dante, I can’t help Sypher if you don’t tell me what happened. Something caused this break and you know what it is. Tell me.”
Looking at him, I whispered, “He remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“Me.”
“That should have made him happy, not throw him into a mental breakdown.”
