Mr. Marshall

It had been on his mind for months. Festering, growing with every ache, every ounce of pain and desire. Tyler wanted nothing more than to leave this world, no matter what the cost. This idea had come to define him, now he was the living dead, waiting go away.
“Your window is closing” said voice, whispering now, “there is so little time to waste”
“You are not real, whatever you are, I don’t need your solutions, they will find an answer”
“You’re on borrowed time, Mr. Tyler, you’re only alive because we’ve extended your time here”
To this, he was silent. He didn’t try to fight his words, for he spoke the truth.
“You want to leave, to escape”
There was silence. No pain, no nightmares, no shame. Just silence. Tyler grabbed the needle and it’s mysterious contents. They had arrived by mail today, the last package ever addressed to him. There was no note, no instructions.
“What would you do, if you were real, if I believed you?”
“Steal your mind, and give you a new one”
“What is your name?”
“They call me Marshall”

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