A/N- Rated for some language, and self-destructive themes, and fun stuff like that... you have been warned... oh, and at the time this was written, no pet named Kakouneji existed, so it can't very well belong to me.
No, don't go to Terror Mountain, they said. It's too cold, they said. You'll
freeze, they said.
I didn't listen. It's not so cold. Not so cold... as if anything on the
outside could be colder than the ice of my heart. I don't much notice
it anymore. Even though the transition... the transition was so difficult...
but now it seems so very normal.
My family? Oh, of course I have a family... a kind, loving family, one
many pets would give anything to have, I suppose. But I do not feel anything
for them. I do not care, or if I do, I don't realize it. Of course I loved
them once... once, but no longer. My downward spiral has taken me
that far.
The distancing was intentional. Necessary. I must have no obligations to
this world. ...Obligations? What a damn joke! It is the world, it is Neopia
which owes me...
Beneath the feathers my wings are yet traced with scratches, scratches
they never see. I cannot fault them for that. How could they tell? The
feathers cover the wounds completely, and I do not bleed. All flesh and
bone and muscle, as with the rest of my kind. It is difficult to find a
place that bleeds. No need to. The pain is still there, with or without
the blood.
But it is pain that hardly can compare... to the pain on the inside. My
constant attempts at tearing myself apart physically hardly serve to distract
from the knowledge of their neglect. I hold the bastards in charge
of this place responsible, for it is they that have damned the Lennies
forever.
Yes, I am a Lenny. Surprised? Of course you are. Lennies are just those
goofy-looking birds that everybody hates. They weren't even good enough
to keep their Wooden Spoon Award.
Damn the Krawks. I'd like to take one with me, where I'm going. But of
course that is not possible. Difficult to find one of them, one of the
thousand or so mixed within the millions of pets in Neopia. One thousand
Krawks, three hundred thousand Lennies. And which species is better known,
better loved?
Which species do those bastards in charge give all the colors, all the
attention? Of course, not the Lennies. Keep the Lennies down, and kick
us while we're there—
I'd actually held out some hope. I distanced myself, awaiting the inevitable.
My caring, wonderful family was so very worried about me... but they finally
believed me, my story about anticipation. Anticipating the Lenny Festival.
And it wasn't entirely a fabrication.
Then they went and screwed us over. One color, one! And orange? Who the
hell paints their pets orange? And the Art Center couldn't even
be bothered to release a Lenny poetry special until the Festival was over...
And that was the end of my hope.
That's why I'm here now, ignoring the protests of my loving family that
I don't care about in the least. I was young and foolish when I was born.
Few Lennies ever get born, and those of us who are instinctively know that
we are the rare ones. Most Lenny eggs just lay dormant, unwanted, until
the unborn bird inside just... dies. For the lucky few, a sense of optimism
is perhaps understandable.
My optimism died swiftly. I learned the extent of the ridicule, of the
neglect, and realized that we Lennies have nothing to live for. And ever
since, my entire life has been nothing but a descent. A plunge into the
cold, into the darkness I stand in now.
The forsaken ones, left to rot in the pound—they are the ones who turn
to self-injury and eventually self-destruction. They are viewed as mere
unfortunate casualties, but understandable. And unavoidable, there are
just too many pets in Neopia for all of them to receive the loving care
they deserve.
Right.
I'll be the first. The first, dammit! I have never heard of a pet
with such an adoring owner as I have, taking the action I am about to take.
But I will. They must take notice now. They must see what they have
done. It will be impossible to miss.
A martyr. I will be a sacrifice. The thought does not bother me—it is,
after all, what I have been preparing myself for. It has all led up to
this moment...
I curl one wing around the dagger, the dagger that has caused all of these
other injuries to my wings. I have always tried to avoid using the tip,
even though the poison could not get into my bloodstream anyway... but
now. Now there is no reason to hold back.
My family... my family will be hurt. I am not sorry. They will recover.
I do not care... this is more important. One owner and three other pets,
versus three hundred thousand Lennies. Not a contest...
This is my thought as I plunge the dagger straight into my throat.
There. I've done it. There is plenty of blood here. The poison acts quickly...
so very quickly... it is not so painful as I had expected, actually. Dammit!
There should be pain. But I do not have the strength to tear the blade
out.
That's all right. If the lack of pain is my only regret, that is a good
sign indeed.
Isn't it?
"Kakouneji?"
No. I'm not hearing that. Hearing things. It's the poison...
"Kako, where'd you go?"
My owner is not calling me. And if she is, so what? I don't care. I don't
care.
"He's got to be up here somewhere!"
I'm not. I don't care.
"Kako, please come out..."
No. Dammit. What am I doing? What've I done? I don't want to die.
I don't... want to... die... but it's all getting hazy now... the poison...
Is that a shadow? No... a hallucination...
Somebody come help me...
It's too late...
I want to take it back. But of course I can't take it back.
I want to reach out, to grasp my fleeing life. But my scar-covered wings
will not move.
I want to scream. But Lennies can't scream.
That shadow. That shadow that isn't there, it's moving... towards me...
"Kako!"
I am sorry. I am. But the realization comes far too late.
I am a martyr for the Lennies, but there is no longer any pride in it.
I have thrown my life away...
I don't want to die. But when the blackness comes... I embrace it. Anything
to stop the uncertainty.
They will find me here frozen. Perhaps passing it off as my freezing to
death, in spite of the blood. A tragic accident. But just a Lenny.
No one will ever know why... nothing will be left of my reasons. Nothing
but the scars on the wings of a martyr.