Prologue
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from ff7, it belongs to squaresoft. , etc,
etc. And this is the second draft of this story, so if there is something
different from the first time, then too bad. I'll try to be as accurate as
possible.
I sat in my office; it's cold broken windows letting in a strong, unsettling breeze. I knew something was wrong; something that had been haunting me for so many years that it became a dull ache. The city in which was laid at my feet could only summon tears into my cold eyes. Everything was destroyed, and I played a part in it. It causes a lack of sleep to know that you killed so many, that so many things were put out of place because of your actions. And this regret, this anguish will forever follow me, like a hungry dog, waiting until it can consume my very mortal flesh and be rid of me. One's conscious works overtime in a situation like this, and mine is on it's dying leg, wishing for a break in the frantic decisions that it's had to make over the past 8 years. So cruel is fate, and so cruel has fate been to this once fair city. So many lifeless bodies litter the city streets, leaving the living ones to feast on them. Sound's horrible doesn't it? I never meant to scare you, sitting here, writing down what I have to say. Death is the main part of the cycle of this city's life-ironic and so very true. It would lead one to believe that no hope could live in this city, but that is too often a misconception of one who has not lived here all their life. I have and I know all about the hope that the slum folk have-maybe someday, they wish, maybe I can get out of here, see the sun! But it rarely happens, and the longer they stay the grimmer their outlook on this tormented city becomes. I was not like that, I always had a feeling as a small child, had a feeling that I had a greater destiny. And my greater destiny is this: death, the murder of innocents, and here, this eternal torment that will not let me be. And you, of all people, would be most able to understand this, this torture that all of us go through. All of us who want to eat, a decent place to live. I was never fortunate to have that when I was young, I learned the hard way about how cruel and vindictive desperate people can be. And in the slums everyone is desperate.
~Years Before~ Hope. Light in the darkest of places, a last resort to this wasted life. Death was my only solace then, and I sought it in the quickest and swiftest form. I lived by my gun even then, so very long ago. I never had a childhood, and will not lie and say that I ever had a happy, carefree life. I didn't. It's not easy being the child of a drunk and a street whore, who was never wanted and was left to fend for herself before she had seen ten years. I was alone when I was 6; it was safer than what little home that I had known. I stole my food, stole the only reason that I survived. I learned to use my gun quickly, and murder, the screams of the dead had a hauntingly small effect on me. I would act so sweet, innocent, but never was, killing my victims for food and money. It was as unfortunate that things had to be that way, but I couldn't have changed it then, and I still cannot change it now.
Authors note: All done. Yeah. Fun. Whoopee. Read and review, s.v.p.
I sat in my office; it's cold broken windows letting in a strong, unsettling breeze. I knew something was wrong; something that had been haunting me for so many years that it became a dull ache. The city in which was laid at my feet could only summon tears into my cold eyes. Everything was destroyed, and I played a part in it. It causes a lack of sleep to know that you killed so many, that so many things were put out of place because of your actions. And this regret, this anguish will forever follow me, like a hungry dog, waiting until it can consume my very mortal flesh and be rid of me. One's conscious works overtime in a situation like this, and mine is on it's dying leg, wishing for a break in the frantic decisions that it's had to make over the past 8 years. So cruel is fate, and so cruel has fate been to this once fair city. So many lifeless bodies litter the city streets, leaving the living ones to feast on them. Sound's horrible doesn't it? I never meant to scare you, sitting here, writing down what I have to say. Death is the main part of the cycle of this city's life-ironic and so very true. It would lead one to believe that no hope could live in this city, but that is too often a misconception of one who has not lived here all their life. I have and I know all about the hope that the slum folk have-maybe someday, they wish, maybe I can get out of here, see the sun! But it rarely happens, and the longer they stay the grimmer their outlook on this tormented city becomes. I was not like that, I always had a feeling as a small child, had a feeling that I had a greater destiny. And my greater destiny is this: death, the murder of innocents, and here, this eternal torment that will not let me be. And you, of all people, would be most able to understand this, this torture that all of us go through. All of us who want to eat, a decent place to live. I was never fortunate to have that when I was young, I learned the hard way about how cruel and vindictive desperate people can be. And in the slums everyone is desperate.
~Years Before~ Hope. Light in the darkest of places, a last resort to this wasted life. Death was my only solace then, and I sought it in the quickest and swiftest form. I lived by my gun even then, so very long ago. I never had a childhood, and will not lie and say that I ever had a happy, carefree life. I didn't. It's not easy being the child of a drunk and a street whore, who was never wanted and was left to fend for herself before she had seen ten years. I was alone when I was 6; it was safer than what little home that I had known. I stole my food, stole the only reason that I survived. I learned to use my gun quickly, and murder, the screams of the dead had a hauntingly small effect on me. I would act so sweet, innocent, but never was, killing my victims for food and money. It was as unfortunate that things had to be that way, but I couldn't have changed it then, and I still cannot change it now.
Authors note: All done. Yeah. Fun. Whoopee. Read and review, s.v.p.