AN: Schuldig's private thoughts. Meaning that this is not the face that he shows to the world, but the way that he really feels. Might have swearing. Yeah.
The Price I Paid
Thoughts taste like honey.
I hate honey.
Did I ever ask to be some freak of nature? Did I ever want to be some weirdo? All I ever wanted was to be normal and happy. Apparently, both of those states of existence and I are mutually exclusive.
I was just a child when it first happened - maybe three or four the first time I heard it. It was frightening. It would start off a whisper in the back of my mind, hissing in a million words, none of them making sense individually, none of them making sense as a whole. It would grow to a roar in a second, so loud that my head felt like it would explode. From the whispers of a thousand, it became the screams of a million. The instant I became aware of it, it would intensify in mental volume.
And then, just when I thought that my head really would explode, it would stop.
And a couple of days later it would happen again.
By the time I was eight I'd learned to block the whisper-screams. They'd frightened my family the first time I told them, in my childish innocence and ignorance. I stopped mentioning them when I was perhaps five, noticing that if I even started to say a word about 'the voices' that my mother would get a frightened look in her eyes and my father would start to get angry. So I tried to ignore them, and they faded out slowly.
At puberty, they struck again.
This time it was worse. I'd get it daily, every several hours. I'd wake up screaming because of my dreams, which were of me in a dark room where a million people are just screaming nonsense straight at my ears. I awoke one time to find blood running out of my ears. And that was when they sent me away. My parents gave me over to SS without a second thought.
I lost my innocence when my parents sold me. I was twelve - twelve! - and I was whored to a psychic's pimp. Sold for life, more like, because now I'm twenty-one and I'm still tangled in their grasp.
There, I learned what I was. There, I learned how to control it. There, I learned what the world was like. After that, the screaming quieted to a babble, and I learned how to infiltrate minds, to plant thoughts, to remove them. Four years, and I was a master of the mental, not to mention nearly mental myself. I had complete control of my powers.
I'd been brainwashed into believing SS was my savior, and they just prodded me further and further down the path of moral depravity every day. I believed that I was special, that I loved being able to own people's thoughts, to control their minds. The I learned the truth, and lost what I had left of my innocence.
Now I know better, and am still SS's whore. I may be special, and I may be damned powerful...
But it wasn't worth the price I paid.
~finissons~
The Price I Paid
Thoughts taste like honey.
I hate honey.
Did I ever ask to be some freak of nature? Did I ever want to be some weirdo? All I ever wanted was to be normal and happy. Apparently, both of those states of existence and I are mutually exclusive.
I was just a child when it first happened - maybe three or four the first time I heard it. It was frightening. It would start off a whisper in the back of my mind, hissing in a million words, none of them making sense individually, none of them making sense as a whole. It would grow to a roar in a second, so loud that my head felt like it would explode. From the whispers of a thousand, it became the screams of a million. The instant I became aware of it, it would intensify in mental volume.
And then, just when I thought that my head really would explode, it would stop.
And a couple of days later it would happen again.
By the time I was eight I'd learned to block the whisper-screams. They'd frightened my family the first time I told them, in my childish innocence and ignorance. I stopped mentioning them when I was perhaps five, noticing that if I even started to say a word about 'the voices' that my mother would get a frightened look in her eyes and my father would start to get angry. So I tried to ignore them, and they faded out slowly.
At puberty, they struck again.
This time it was worse. I'd get it daily, every several hours. I'd wake up screaming because of my dreams, which were of me in a dark room where a million people are just screaming nonsense straight at my ears. I awoke one time to find blood running out of my ears. And that was when they sent me away. My parents gave me over to SS without a second thought.
I lost my innocence when my parents sold me. I was twelve - twelve! - and I was whored to a psychic's pimp. Sold for life, more like, because now I'm twenty-one and I'm still tangled in their grasp.
There, I learned what I was. There, I learned how to control it. There, I learned what the world was like. After that, the screaming quieted to a babble, and I learned how to infiltrate minds, to plant thoughts, to remove them. Four years, and I was a master of the mental, not to mention nearly mental myself. I had complete control of my powers.
I'd been brainwashed into believing SS was my savior, and they just prodded me further and further down the path of moral depravity every day. I believed that I was special, that I loved being able to own people's thoughts, to control their minds. The I learned the truth, and lost what I had left of my innocence.
Now I know better, and am still SS's whore. I may be special, and I may be damned powerful...
But it wasn't worth the price I paid.
~finissons~