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Jax hugged his legs against his chest as he tried to ignore the distant stomping that echoed through the derelict circus halls, the occasional rumble shaking his body, though he wasn't sure if it was from the circus' deterioration or the abstractions that now roamed around. He felt tears well in his eyes at the thought, quickly wiping them away as he felt a sob catch in his throat. He refused to cry, even now that he was alone. He didn't deserve to feel bad about this. He had brought this on himself.
Kinger was the first one they lost. No one was really sure when it happened, but that didn't make it hurt any less. The monster that took over now roamed the hall of rooms, blocking access and forcing the remaining humans to make do with what they could find in other areas. The only time they could enter the hall was in the late hours of the night, when the monster seemed calmer. During those times, it would simply stare at the crossed out emblem of the other chess piece.
Jax tried to act like he didn't care when Kinger was gone, keeping his smile on whenever he even thought someone was nearby. He'd laugh, make jokes, pretend he wasn't hurting. Anything but let them see how he felt. It was only when he was positive he was alone would he let it fall. He had never considered how things might be if Kinger was gone, figuring the man would have outlasted all of them due to sheer craziness on it's own. Now that he was gone, though, there was an undeniable misery that settled over the already depressing circus.
Ragatha was the next one to go, the last time she was seen being when she ran off in tears after one too many failed attempts to rally the remaining humans. Her abstraction was later found by Pomni, stalking the upper floors in forlorn silence before it attempted to charge the jester. The loss left them all rattled, none more so than Pomni, who seemed to shut down completely with the loss of yet another person she relied on.
Jax didn't try to keep his smile on anymore, not that it mattered. Everyone was too busy wallowing in their own misery to pay attention to how he looked. The abstraction hurt him more than he expected, with a constant ache in his chest always reminding him of the doll no matter how many times he wished to forget. He never did apologize for the things he said to her after Ribbit was gone. He wanted to. Lord, how he wanted to apologize. But he never did. He couldn't risk what might happen after. And now he never could.
It wasn't much of a surprise when Pomni abstracted, but it didn't sting any less. About a day before it happened, she sought the rabbit out and tried to talk to him about the recent losses. She tried to connect with him, urging him to sit with her so they could at least take comfort in each other's presence, though he wasn't sure if she was doing it for herself or because she thought she could help him. He didn't know, because he refused. He pushed her away yet again, forcing a smile for the first time in what must have been weeks at this point and telling her it didn't matter what they did, because at the end of the day, they both knew there was no stopping things.
That was the last time he saw her before she abstracted. The look of crushing defeat and hurt on her face being burned into his mind. She wandered around the circus now, seeming to be searching for something that never seemed to be found. It was the easiest one to avoid, even when it would enter the main area on it's walks. It didn't seem to pay the surviving three any mind, only growing angry when they would indirectly end up in its path. Jax rarely ended up there. It hurt too much to see her. He wished she had just shot him on that one adventure. It would have made this easier. It was easier if they hated him. That's what he told himself.
He found out how wrong he was when Zooble finally broke. The two of them had gotten into yet another screaming match that day, with them blaming him for not just Pomni's, but all their friends' abstractions. He denied it, of course. After all, why should he be at fault? He wasn't the only one left yet. They had stormed off in a rage, with Gangle trying to chase after them, only to return a few minutes later after failing to locate them. A few days later, their abstraction made itself known, with it crashing and stampeding through the circus like it was on a war path. It was easily the most dangerous due to how angry it was.
Jax had always thought Zooble would be the easiest to get over. He thought it would have even been a net positive. Without them, no one would get in the way of messing with Gangle. She'd be even easier to keep under his thumb and control. Maybe in her grief she'd even start relying on him and he could really start to manipulate her. He had always thought she was freaky enough to go along with it. All those thoughts vanished once Zooble was gone, though. Now it all hurt even more. He wanted nothing more than to be happy they were gone, but he couldn't bring himself to. If anything, he regretted not getting to know them more. Maybe he could have gotten along with them if he just tried a little bit. What if they could have helped him understand himself? What if they would have encouraged and supported him? What if, what if, what if. It didn't matter now. He was tired and numb. He didn't have anything else to lose.
At least until Gangle abstracted. Once they were the only two left, she practically never left his side, not that there was anywhere to go. She was a mess now that Zooble was gone. She spent most days just crying, letting silent tears stream down her face as she sat next to the only other person left, staring off into space as the rumbling and crashing echoed off the grey walls. On the days she didn't cry, she practically begged Jax to talk to her. About their friends, about their lives, about what she thought she could have had with Zooble, anything. Jax never responded, though. He stayed quiet, even as Gangle grew more desperate, begin to plead for any kind of response, even if it was mean. She asked him to scream at her, to insult her, to belittle and beat her. Anything to not have to listen to the deafening silence of the circus. But he never did.
Then one day, the crying stopped. She had simply run out of tears to shed, so she walked away and left Jax on his own. He didn't even realize it at first. But by the time he did, it was too late. He found her near the dining area, the abstracted beast's movements undeniably depressed and hurting. It was almost entirely silent, with the only noises it would make being horrific wails that filled the air with sadness. It was almost entirely stationary, choosing to stay in a small area far away from the other monsters. It was the only one that refused to look at him.
Her loss hurt him the most. So many things left unsaid, so many apologies left untold, so many valuables left unreturned. He had always seen her as a tool, someone he could use for whatever purpose he needed. Sometimes he torment her. He'd break her masks, he'd trample on her sketches, he'd shut down any amount of confidence she had. Sometimes he'd use her as a pawn. He'd force her to be his partner on adventures, he'd make her help him ruin someone else's day and leave her with the fallout. Sometimes he'd just use her as a companion. He'd do something mean, but not painful to her, just so he didn't have to be alone.
But now he was alone.
He stayed in a corner now, just sitting in silence. He'd stay there for hours, days even, just staring at nothing. He'd only move when his body ached too much to keep sitting, and even then it was just to stand and keep staring into nothingness. He felt empty. Everyone else was gone, and he was stuck here. Hugging his legs to his chest as the abstracted forms of the people he took for granted rampaged through the circus. He wanted nothing more than to cry. To scream. To swear and hit and beg whatever might be listening for any kind of release. Why couldn't it have been him? Why did it have to be the others? They didn't deserve this. They had each other. They had people to care about. They had companionship and romance and so many other things that he didn't even deserve, let alone have. So why wasn't he the one to abstract? Why couldn't he abstract? Was it a punishment? Had he died out on the streets, and this was his hell? Or was it really all just a culmination of his own actions?
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He knew sooner or later he'd be gone too, either through abstraction or pure madness. And that's what he deserved. He didn't want to go, but what was there left for him here? He drove everyone away, and now he was alone. And he couldn't take it back, no matter how much he wanted to. He wished he could turn back the clock, back to when everyone was still here. His friends. He'd bond with Pomni. He'd relate with Zooble. He'd draw with Gangle. He'd be comforted by Ragatha. He'd joke with Kaufmo. He'd confide in Ribbit. He'd talk with Kinger. There were so many things he'd do differently if he got a second chance. But he knew he wouldn't get one.
In the darkness, tucked away in a small corner of a once lively circus, sat a scared, lonely rabbit. No one left to judge him. No one left to hurt him. No one left to comfort him. He was as alone as he could possibly be.
It was only then did he let his tears fall.