A new Beginning
...Merle narrates…
Turning my back…it's that easy. Turning away from the torture and pain of a cruel life that has misused me…I know I want to. It's something we all wish to do at one point in our life, isn't it? So why don't we? Is it because we're afraid of what we'll see when we turn around? Because, you know, you can't turn back. Pride will lock the gate, and you'll be forced to wander in whatever life you've entered forever. One can't resist Pride any more than one can resist death. But they're the same, in a way, aren't they? Pride is the death of caring and love. Yet, Pride is a twisted version of life, for, you see, it is the birth of Hatred. Believe me, reader, I know this all too well.
I, Merle, am full of Pride. It hasn't ever been like this before Hitomi, but now I'm running; running forever, it seems, the play-toy of Hate, because of her. I don't hate the girl because she stole my Von as a person; he'd always been chilly as the winds of January and introverted on the outside, but she's stolen his heart, too. And I'm too proud to turn around and speak to him now, though every other step brings a nip in the soul from regret.
My face is bleeding from a sharp leaf that has cut through it as a gust of wind whips it across, and my dress is plastered about my body as the rain beats harshly against it, but I'm still running, flashbacks streaming through my pitch-black mind and heart:
Reader, picture yourself in a dark hallway, wandering aimlessly. As you pass through, you distinctly have your name, Merle, pronounced and follow the sound:
"Merle's such a little idiot! She should really grow up and stop bothering everybody, especially you and me. Finally we get to be alone, Hitomi my love," Von whispers as he caresses her in her chambers. My cat ears pick up every stroke, every kiss, and every word, the sounds cutting through me and causing my soul to bleed, the suffering too great to utter a word. I still continue to listen, disbelieving, until I hear the words:
"I wish Merle would just leave! She's such a nuisance. She's mature enough to take care of herself. Ah, well… at least we're together, alone, and not bothered by her now."
The words are becoming muffled, and eventually cease as I creep out of the hallway with the feeling of having been beaten numb, into the rain, past the guards, beyond the confines of the city, and into a new world, knowing that the gates of the old one are shut to me forever.
Did I mention I'm holding a knife? Ah, I want to die so much, and yet I don't. The sharp blade edges ever nearer to my breast until it is no farther than a centimeter from my flesh and then my mind floods with doubt and fear. For I don't truly want to die.
My ears prick up as I hear retreating battle-cries and I scurry to the battlefield, my eyes widening with shock, even through my numbed state as I see nothing but a great lake of blood and rusting steel. It is still as death, and yet my quick eye picks up someone, or something moving.
I come nearer, until I am but a few inches away. As my eyes meet his, I suddenly recoil, for I know those eyes; those blood-thirsty, wicked eyes hidden behind a curtain of silver hair, now stained with his own blood. Yet, something within those eyes is changed.
"Please…ugh…please help m…m…me." He coughs, blood escaping his mouth in a rapid stream.
"Why should I? You tried to kill Van." I utter softly, pity overwhelming my heart, like a great ocean tide overwhelming a stranded, small boat.
"I did, didn't I? And I'm not sorry, not one bit sorry." He smirks, though pain is etching his face, and I can tell every word hurts him. I surprise myself beyond belief by grinning back.
"Maybe you should have killed him."
I surprise myself yet again by edging nearer to him, and placing his upper body in my arms, cradling it there. He looks like he wants to say more, but I shake my head and place my finger on his lips
"Hush, now. You're safe with me. Just rest, and I'll get you someplace safe."
Without protest, he closes his ruby-red yes and falls asleep, leaving me wishing he hadn't, because I want to see more of his beautiful eyes, and hear more of his clear, sweet voice.
Maybe, turning my back on my old life wasn't such an awful idea, I reflect as I sit there in the bloody battlefield, holding him in my arms.
Yet, it's so hard to forget.
Author's Notes: WELL!? What did you think? This is my first Escaflowne fic, so don't flame too harshly! Ok, ok, I'm a sicko for liking Merle+Dilandau SO SUE ME! Well, please
R E V E I W
