The Artist's Insomnia pt 11

6 blinked slowly, trying to focus on getting to his destination. Getting to his music. It had been so long since he’d heard it. Maybe he really had forgotten it. Maybe he’d forgotten everything about it. But he couldn’t turn back now. If he did, things would never be the same. He’d never be able to live with himself again, he’d never be able to sleep again. This was something that had to be done. Even if it killed him. As he walked farther and farther away from the life he knew, a small box came into view.
“My music!” 6 exclaimed, using a sudden bolt of energy to get to the small box. Once he reached the box, he slowly crept up to it. Taking in each and every detail. The box was rather small, it was carved out of a Mahogany wood. Along the sides some small pictures and runes were caved along it. 6 walked around the box, tracing his nibbed fingers along the sides taking in every detail on it, including the small drawing of the talisman he’s placed there last time he’d seen the box. Then he looked at the top of the box, tracing his fingers over the leafless tree carved into the top. Then he dragged his fingers down to the keyhole, looking at it with curious wonder.
“My key goes there” 6 said quietly, as if he had known, but at the same time, was learning this fact for the first time. Slowly, he moved his hands to his key and unlatched the ring that held it around his neck. Nervously, he put his key into the music box.
“It fits” 6 said, almost surprised but at the same time as if he knew it would fit.  6 took a deep breath and began to twist the key, starting up the music box. Violins began to play softly.  6 sat himself down next to the music box as a young woman’s voice began to sing to him.
“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high….”
“My music!” 6 cried in excitement, tears of happiness falling down his face.
“There’s a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby…”  
“It’s my song” 6 whispered to himself quietly, fastening his key around his neck once more.
“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue..”  
“My music…” 6 sighed contently, closing his optics slowly.
“And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true….”  6 rocked himself to the music, his hands around his key and his optics shut tight.
“Someday I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me”  
“We killed the machine..” 6 trailed off. That was the last time he’d heard his song. The last time he was out in the emptiness.
“Where troubles melt away like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops…”  6 racked his brain for the forgotten memory. Why couldn’t he remember it? What stopped him from remembering the last time he’d heard his song?
“That’s where you’ll find me..”
As the song continued on, 6 forced himself to remember. There was a record player. 3 and 4 were standing on it… and there was another record….5 was chasing after it…he was running after it…running away from the rest of them….then he was screaming….running back toward them.
“Everybody! The machine! Run away!”   5 screams rang out in his head. The vivid images began to reappear in his mind. 5 continued to scream at them. Then he was in the clutches of the machine.  
“5!” 6 screamed out, putting his hands over his ear sensors.
“No!”  5 screamed in his mind as he fought to escape the machine. Green lights began to appear. 6 felt his body being crushed under the weight of 7, 3, and 4 on top of him. Then, there was absolute silence. 5’s lifeless form fell to the ground in front of him.
“5!” 6 cried out in a strangled voice. The music continued on outside his mind as 6 replayed the events of his previous life inside it.
“They’re trapped!” 6 cried out into the emptiness. Then he was running. Running away from the machine, running away from his music box.
“6 come on!” 9’s voice called in his head.
“No stop! You mustn’t destroy it!” He screamed to the 9 and 7 in his mind.
“Get away 6!”  7’s voice told him.
“You mustn’t destroy it. Don’t destroy it. They’re trapped. They’re inside. They’re inside!” 6 screamed out into the emptiness, tears of anguish falling down his face. He continued running. Running farther and farther away from the music box. Without realizing it, 6 climbed onto the claw of a machine that had been long since destroyed. Feeling as though the machine had him trapped, he stood atop it. Screaming louder then he’d ever screamed before.
“Go back! To the first room! He’ll show you! The source!” he cried in agony. Then he tripped, the metal under him disappearing as he tumbled off the claw. Then something pulled him. Pulled him out of his mind, and away from certain doom.
“Huh?” 6 asked himself, looking around confusedly. 6 looked up to see a claw of sorts, and some fabric caught around the tip of it. The fabric belonged to him, his back was caught on the tip of the claw. 6 wiggled around, trying to get himself uncaught. He heard a slight tearing noise and stopped moving around. Then 6 looked down, the ground was far below him. 6 struggled to pull himself up, flailing madly and failing hopelessly. He continued to flail, ignoring the ripping sound coming from his back.
“5! Help! Help me I’m caught!” 6 cried out, hoping he would be heard. When the one-eyed stitchpunk didn’t appear 6 began to struggle once more. 6 wiggled and flailed futilely before finally snap!  he was falling then smack!  the ground met him painfully. 6 laid on the ground unmoving, but breathing lightly. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to know If there was any pain. A cold wind blew through the air, causing him to shaky violently. Carefully 6 pulled himself into a sitting position, every bit of his body crying in pain. Then he gradually brought himself to his feet, his legs begging him to sit back down. 6 slowly began to walk, wobbling each step. He felt different. His back felt very different. Like something was missing. 6 ran his fingers down the backside of his neck and down his spine, stopping a quarter of the way. His back was open, his number, completely torn off by the broken machine. 6 let out a small cry of pain before his legs gave out underneath him and he fell lightly onto the ground. 6 sat on the cold ground for some time before he stood up and began to wobble back to his music box.
“I have to get back to my music box” 6 whispered quietly. He couldn’t stay where he was. He had to go back to his music box. So the others could find him. If they were even looking for him. Soon, 6 made his way back to the music box. 6 smiled wearily and sat himself down next to the box. Carefully he unlatched his key from his neck and placed it into the keyhole. He turned the key steadily, rotating it three times before removing it and placing it on his neck once more. 6 waited for the music to start up again. But the box stayed silent. 6 looked inside the music box curiously, trying to understand why it hadn’t began to sing. The small stitchpunk looked desperately for a way to get the sound back.
“Are you afraid to sing?” 6 asked the music box curiously.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to be nervous” 6 patted the music box kindly, but the box remained silent.
“Have you forgotten the words?” 6 asked the music box, trying not to get upset.
“I’ll..I’ll help you remember them” 6 said in a shaky voice, tears starting to well up in his optics.
“Somewhere over the rainbow. Bluebirds fly” 6 sang shakily, his breathing hitched. In his heart he knew the music box hadn’t forgotten. It was broken. He was broken.
“If happy little bluebirds fly, beyond the rainbow..” 6 sang sadly, holding his key with all his strength. 6 laid down on his side, curling into a ball, rocking himself slowly. Feeling all hope was lost, he began to cry.
“Why…oh why can’t I?” 6 sobbed.  No longer caring if he lived or died. 6 closed his optics as he continued to sob, waiting for something, anything, to take him away from the pain he no longer wished to feel.