Stained

I'm still there. Every night, I visit it in my dreams. It's overwhelming, and I don't know what to do. I would wake up, shouting, screaming, sweating. She would be shaking me, calling my name, embracing me and trying to soothe me, running a gentle hand over my tawny hair; I would cling to her tightly, clawing her shirt, sobbing into her shoulder.

This is how it goes, every night. I'm ashamed, scared, and I want it to stop. It won't. It won't stop until I find a way to conquer these fears inside me, and I don't know how long that will take.

I'm scared of myself – of what I was capable of. In this memory I am unwillingly drawn into each night, I see it from another angle, another point of view, through a different perspective. It terrifies me. It seems all so real, like I'm experiencing it at that moment, and I can't tell myself that it's only a dream.

I see my past-self, standing in front of the flames with my ripped kimono, my eyes dull and empty, and my hair swaying by the force of the fire, with a horrid insane smile plastered over my face.

I see my Child looming behind my past-self menacingly, destroying the concrete of the First District, four of her deadly heads working on the brickwork of the building, the other two lunging for the elders of the District, sometimes striking, sometimes coming daringly close.

My body is shaking, my hands trembling, my ruby eyes wide with fear. Again. I try to run, but my legs won't obey me. I try to shield myself somehow, but my arms are seemingly paralyzed. I try to shout, but my mouth isn't working. I just stand there, rigid, as one of Kiyohime's heads turn towards me, amber yellow eyes locking onto my own. I quake in its gaze, shaking as the head lifts slowly, tongue flickering out tauntingly before retreating back into the mouth from which it came. I stare, immobilized, as it rears back and darts forth, jaws opening wide, fangs coming into contact with my body. My throat unclogs, and I scream.

"NATSUKI!"

I bolt up, throwing the covers back, my breath ragged and sharp.

"Shizuru!"

She's there. God, she's there, sitting next to me in her pyjama-clad glory, reaching for my shoulder, her jade eyes filled with worry and concern.

"Shizuru…" She whispers.

My eyes tear up and a sob escapes my mouth. She opens her arms and I fall into them, crying my heart out onto her cotton shirt. Automatically, her hand moves to the top of my head, and she gently runs her fingers through my hair, muttering calming nothings into my ear as I cry onto her shoulder.

This is a regular occurrence at night. With Natsuki's help, the dreams are becoming less frequent, but I know that even when they stop coming… I will always be stained.

Well, I started writing this in year nine during an extremely boring english lesson and I found it today and thought I will revise this and put it on FF so I did. It's a tad depressing, but hey

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