Hey all! Wow, I haven't posted anything on here in such a long time! For two years now, in fact. I apologize to any of my readers for sort of abandoning my past fanfics. I like to think that, in the time that's passed, I've grown as a writer. And, yes, I know I've put off all my fanfics for a few years now, and I honestly do plan on updating at least one or two of them soon, but for now here's a taste of something I wrote spontaneously last night.
It's for Repo! the Genetic Opera. It's from the POV of Luigi Largo, my favorite character, after he's done something that he terribly regrets. Rated T for violence and the mention of sex.
Hope you enjoy it!
Luigi Largo buried his face inside his blood soaked hands as he sat on the edge of the bed that did not belong to him.
One minute she had been complaining, and the next second she was dead.
Luigi hated himself. He hated how he couldn't control his temper. He hated how one foul word from nearly anyone would send him into a rage that always ended with his knife in someone else. He hated how his father thought he was an embarrassment and a disgrace. He hated how everything that slightly opposed him pissed him off so much.
At this moment, he hated everything about himself.
He brought his face, now baring traces of red, up from his bloody hands. He hesitantly glanced over his right shoulder at the lifeless girl's body. Eight months down the drain. It was the longest any woman had ever remained in a relationship with him. Most women he attempted to court were disgusted by his constant acts of violence and would leave him before they were next, while others stupidly stayed and, eventually, gave him a reason to lose his temper with them. No woman had ever kept on with him, either breathing or deceased, longer than a week or two at most.
Except for her.
And now she was gone too.
She had understood the complex workings of his aggressive mind. She had been careful with her word selection and the actions she performed, never giving him cause to be upset with her. She had always ignored his clothing, dirty with blood, when she saw him, acting as though she wasn't aware he had just murdered yet another person. Top that off with intelligence, uniqueness, beauty untouched by any sort of surgery, elegance, humor, seeing passed this crude exterior, and being great in bed, Luigi had discovered the greatest woman he could have ever imagined.
As he sat there, his mind flashed back to a week ago, when she had timidly admitted to being in love with him after they had finished having intercourse. She was fearful that he might be annoyed with this inconvenience of her feelings and act as he normally did, but she told him that she couldn't keep it in any longer. He didn't react as she expected. He didn't react at all. He had quietly gathered his clothing and left, without saying a single word. The next day he pretended she had never said anything, and so did she. At the time he told himself it was because he wasn't sure how he felt about her and he wasn't ready for that sort of commitment, but now he was sure of the real reason.
He knew that this would eventually happen.
Luigi blinked, tears starting to prickle at his eyes. Unable to look at her lying there anymore, he tore his gaze away. He had reacted naturally, and now he was paying the price. There was always a price to pay for his actions, but never before had it taken such a toll on him.
Reluctantly, he reached for her phone on the nightstand and punched in some numbers. He waited only briefly before a, "Hello?" came from another line.
"Pop, it's Luigi. I need a cleanup crew. I've had another… accident."
Click.
His father had hung up on him.
Luigi sighed, placing the phone back on the receiver. Even though Rotti was disappointed by his son yet again, Luigi knew his father would trace the call and still send a crew over. And that's precisely what happened.
As the cleanup crew came and carried her body away, Luigi could not bring himself to follow. He remained on the bed for many hours after they had gone, running the scene through his head over and over again.
He had said something to offend her, having to do with a comment she had made to his father earlier that night. He yelled, saying it was not all right for her to say things to Rotti that made him look bad, and then called her a slew of derogatory terms. Usually, she stayed quiet and put up with the screaming, knowing that to provoke him in this manner would lead to a quick death, but she must have grown tired of the yelling. Something inside her snapped and she suddenly found herself telling him off. This shocked Luigi for a moment, but soon he was yelling again, his voice becoming louder than she'd ever heard it. He yelled and yelled, his profanity growing along with his anger. How dare she talk back to him? When tears began to fall from her eyes he found himself growing more infuriated. Without thinking, purely following on instinct, he reached for his knife on the nightstand and plunged it into her still beating heart. She didn't scream or cry for help, or make any other sort of noise. She just gave him a crest fallen look.
Then she fell over. Dead.
As he remembered all of this, the urge to cry became even stronger. But Luigi fought it. Real men didn't cry. Real men yelled and killed things to prove points. That's what he had always told himself, and that's what he would keep telling himself.
Yet still. He had never felt so grieved after committing a murder as he felt now. He had lost the one true thing that he liked in life. The one true thing that he loved. And he knew that this would happen again, and he would be powerless to stop it.
His temper would haunt him till the day he died, and it would be, forever and always, his curse.