The door was slammed behind the tiny figure of the boy. He couldn't stand to hear his parents yelling at eachother anymore. He was afraid, afraid that they might hurt eachother, afraid that they might turn against him too. He wished he could stop them, he wished he could take away all the pain and let them live as a happy family again. A pair of crimson eyes opened slowly. In the darkness of the room the only thing he could see were his sisters, much younger than him. They were hiding under a blanket, as scared as him, and the boy could make out the sound of their quiet sobbing. It was happening more often and he could do nothing to stop his parents from fighting. He blamed himself for it; he wished his father would beat only him like he used to and sto fighting with his wife. But of course that never happened. A moment of silence made the boy open the door slightly. He glanced outside the room, but couldn't see anything. He was about to get up and check the state his parents were in, when he heard a loud noise and a scream. The door was slammed shut again and the boy covered his ears. The screams didn't stop and he could do nothing to stop them as he couldn't stop the tears streaming down his face. He wasn't crying because he fought himself to remain silent, but the pain, he couldn't bear it anymore so he let it out in small rivers of crystal-like liquid. He could feel the salt on his lips and the guilt which coiled around his neck. He wanted to scream, louder than the screams he heard, and he wanted everything to end. Pain. Suffering. Fights. Yells. Screams.
The bed cracked as one certain informat jumped from his sleep in shock. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed. Izaya blinked few times before his eyes adjusted to the dark. The digital clock that sat on the nightstand right beside his bed lighted the small green numbers. 2 AM. Sweat was running down in small particles down the informant's face. It poured down and colided with the fresh tears sliding down from the corners of his crimson eyes. His heart was beating so hard it could break through his ribcage in any moment. One hand was pressed agains his chest as he breathed heavily in an attempt to calm himself from the nightmare that was still haunting his mind. There were no lights in his room other than the flashes of the passing-by cars and the poor shine from the tall lstreet lights. Izaya moved his hand from his chest and covered his face closing the pair of crimson orbs. He grimaced at the thoughts of the disturbing nightmare. He didn't think so deep about his family in years. It was like a sharp knife pressing against his spine to remember about his past which was a nightmare itself. His hand moved through his dark, messy bangs of hair and it stopped when his fingers grazed upon a deep scar - the only thing his father ever left to him. A sigh passed his dry lips as he reopened his bloody red eyes to stare blindly into the darkness of his room.
The informant got up slowly from the edge of the bed where he was standing and headed to the bathroom. There he avoided to look at the mirror. He knew that if he saw himself in that state it would only depress him more. The clothes he was wearing were dscarded on the floor as he opened the shower. Izaya didn't wait for the water to warm up, he just stepped inside and let the ice rivers stream down his whole body. His back was pressed against the shower's wall. The tile bit down his spine making him to shiver - a fear formed in his mind. His arms coiled around his trembling body and in spite of the cold water pouring from above, the soft liquid running down his cheeks remained warm. Izaya hated crying, he hated feeling weak and he hated that even when he was down, there was nobody to cheer him up other than the annoying voices in his mind that wanted him as dead as everyone else wished he was. He aknowledged that he couldn't blame them for seeking that, aknowledged that he was a monster who loved to create suffering to the ones that didn't deserve it; he aknowledged that he deserved the pain he was feeling. But he was both sad and jealous - and his jealousy got the best of him. He enjoyed torturing people and all because he didn't want to be the only one suffering. But above everyone else, he didn't want one certain person in Ikebukuro to live a happy peaceful life. A person, but not a simple one. A monster just like him, but a monster that people still loved regardless of his violent behaviour. It just didn't make sense in Izaya's mind.
It was just wrong.