Author's Notes: I've been depressed lately, can you tell? Well, during this time I decided I needed another emotional short story. I've been inflicting a lot of suffering on Reno and Nida lately, so my target, Life stream keep him, is Reeve. Yay! Italics donates the actual dream.
Dreams that Keep you Awake
Rain fell upon the plates that day, when all was said and done. It was the day the world fell down about him, crumbling to dust about him. Water rolled down the windows like tears down his cheek. Rubble rested about the slums, like his broken dreams had long since fallen to his feet. And rivers of tears flowed from victims, as blood flowed from his wrists.
Forever he lived in those dreams despite his pain, his fears. Every night the past brought him back, trying so desperately hard to drown him for his sins. Each day he awoke though, and continued through the motions. Still, he could do nothing to rid himself of his sins. By evening he prayed that the Lifestream would finally take him, free him from his pain. And again he would wake and be just a little bit deader inside.
He asked the other two with innocent blood on their hands if forgiveness could be found. One never tried and the other was yet to find the answer. He was trapped now, trapped in the memories. No longer could he survive like this, hearing the screams, seeing the pain when he blinked. Every second of his existence was filled with the sensations of those painful minutes and their aftermath….
He stood in his office, looking out over the grandeur of Midgar, of HIS city, his one dream come true for a short time. Every once in a while the sky was clear over the evening city, and you could just look out his office window and see all the lights and you would shiver at the beauty of it all. It was like the stars above were reflected in his perfect city… Then suddenly there was a screech, the cry of the metal supports straining against the weight of a plate as an explosion heralded the destruction of the pillar beneath. Screams, hundreds of screams of terror, of pain, of death and destruction, came to his ears. Quickly his hands moved to cover his ears, but the sounds would not stop, never stop. Now the plate was sinking, buildings falling, steel beams snapping like dry twigs. He shut his eyes against the sight; tears streaming down his face, but the horrible image burned through his eyelids and imprinted itself deep in his mind, swearing to never let him go. Then it hit… the pain. All the pain that was in his city, he felt tenfold in his heart. There was only one choice, and that was eternal escape.
His fist slammed into the glass but nothing happened. In his anger, his need to be free of the pain, he turned to his desk and grabbed up his coffee mug. Then the timid executive dashed it upon the ground and picked up the largest shard. It wasn't really sharp, but it would cut his skin, he knew it. He wasn't SOLDIER, and he wasn't a Turk, so his body had no Mako, no Jenova, and those things would not slow the bleeding, mask the pain. Carefully the executive made the first cut and watched the crimson color of his life freely gush forth. Soon a second cut joined the first, and then a third on the opposite wrist. Yes, there was pain, so much pain, but for once he could handle it, accept it for all it was and finally give in. He would make up for his mistakes with this scarlet offering.