Title:

Title: Myself

Author: Stacey-Marie

Pairings: none

Warnings: possession. POV, dark, angst

Disclaimers: Gundam Wing and all of it's characters, mecha and other miscellaneous stuff isn't mine so don't sue me because you have a better chance of finding a live cabbit in my room than something of value.

Myself

It was dark and the forest seemed to be closing in around me. Ever pressing it made my blood pump faster through my veins. The edge was near and through the darkness I could see a small village approaching. Allowing a small thought of joy to rise, I started to run towards the village. Then it spoke, the demon inside my head that laughs as I kill. The demon, Shinigami.

"They'll kill you", it whispers and I stop, frozen at the tree line, but just hidden from view. I hear it and know it is right. I bear the mark of a demon child, my violet eyes, my curse. For that I am always wandering, always alone with my demon prompting me to soak my hands in blood.

"Kill them first" it hisses. "You can…" even as it speaks I feel my hand go for my knives. My twelve black blades tempered with blood and concealed all over my body. Involuntarily I am moving forward, the silent shadow of the assassin I am forced to be. It is almost too late before I stop myself. I've already taken aim on my first victim. I can feel it smirk inside me at my small attempt to control it. It knows it could control me if it simply wanted blood, but no, it relishes the destruction of my sanity.

"You need supplies" it purrs "Even for all the gold you've stolen they won't give them to you. They will attack you as the last village, which you are still bleeding from by the way. You could get medical supplies." The thought tempts me as the pain in my shoulder is renewed.

"See, " it whispers seductively "I care, the only one who does in fact. All the rest are gone: remember? You killed them; they loved you and now they're dead. All because of you, now there is no one left."

"No!" I scream at it in my mind. "No! It was you who killed them!"

"It was not my hand who threw those demon blades into their chests. It was you. It was you who begged me for my aid against the pain. I only gave you what you wanted." Ah yes my exorcism, the most painful thing in my life. Worse than killing everyone I had loved, worse than murdering whole towns. They had tried to take away my curse, half my soul. One can never describe such pain, all for my eyes.

It laughs a dry bitter laugh, one I am echoing aloud. It is right, it always is. But I will be rid of the demon. I'll make it leave in blood, this time my own. There is a whistle and a crumple, then once again I see my hands dripping with blood.

As I walked by myself

And talked to myself

Myself said unto me:

"Look to thyself

Take care of thyself

For no one cares for thee."

I answered myself

And said to myself

In the selfsame repartee

"Look to thyself

Or not to thyself

The selfsame thing will be."

~ "Myself": The Real Mother Goose