It was something like being naked.
Stripped bare and splayed open. Wide. There for all the world to see.
He tried to cover it as best he could.
Knees pressed to his chest so tight they creaked, clutching a tiny piece of paper. They could break that way. He was sure. The tendons could pop like rubber bands. He didn't care. His ribs would go too. They'd crack and shatter like glass. His fingers would go numb from holding himself together. He'd gather them closer past the pain. There had to be a way to keep out the perversion. Or keep it from getting out. He couldn't quite tell.
It seemed to start with the Dark Beasts.
That was the perversion getting in, wasn't it?
They killed and raped and stole and reaped everything but what they'd sown. It could get to you, the abductions and prostitution rings and human lab rats (monsters... things). The murders and secrets and politics. It was always something to do with politics. No, power. Power in it's every form.
So he fought it.
He caught them when they weren't quite ready, and cut them down. Just a little faster than... A little stronger than. Brought them to justice. Which was nothing he couldn't handle. Used to be able to, he was sure. There was a delicate balance, rainforest-sensitive, that had been tampered with. One more spatter of blood had tipped the scales. He was officially a sinner now. Gone into the abyss never to see the pure light of normalcy again.
That sounded like something Aya might say.
Ken pulled his knees closer.
He started to think of the first kill. Couldn't quite remember who it was, which seemed a shame. He should've kept a list maybe. He remembered how it felt though, metal tearing through flesh. There was blood. A lot of blood. When you look at a person, you don't think that such a contained... vessel could be that easy to tear through. Or that there would be so much to come out of it. Enough to bathe in.
Perverse.
He threw up the first time. It was just nerves, nothing more, but it felt like a cleansing after the horror. He could almost laugh at it now. Would if he weren't sure it would turn to tears. Yeah, just nerves. Every nerve ending in his body had been humming with energy. It made the feel of his clothes itch. It made standing unbearable. How could he not be moving? So he stopped standing and got on his bike. And when he'd run out of gas, he ran.
It got easier after that.
Deny these Dark Beasts...
It got fun after that.
He was the perversion. It had gotten in (or had it been there all along?) and he was just trying to keep it from spreading.
He relaxed enough to look at the paper he'd been holding, a business card, and made the decision to call the number printed on it. Maybe... maybe it was time to find help after all.