I forgot.
Of all the things I've tried to forget. Blood. Tears. PAIN!
Why did the one thing I forget have to be the one thing that proved to me that there was a reason for all of this?
The one thing that was supposed to provide absolution for my misguided soul?
Now all that runs through my head are bodies blond hair, blue eyes dulled in death. Body shaped like an ugly doll mauled by a rabid bear, feasting on her flesh.
Except it wasn't a bear.
It was me
No funerals to remember. They might have helped, with the monologues that are supposed to give insight in to the life of the dead. Why would anyone want an insight into your life? The life of a weapon? Who would attend your funeral anyways? They were dead, All DEAD.
I-I need something to-to do. Something to do! So I don't think, don't remember.
Clutching, squeezing, grasping, gasping, pounding on wood floors and stone walls, wet with the leftovers, remains.
Can't think, can't think. Thinking leads to hesitation, which leads to Death! But everyone is already dead, what does it matter?
Mission, the mission comes first. Got to finish the job… what job? Nothing left, no point, all done, all gone.
I have nothing to focus on anymore… all the faces, the sounds, the smells-it's rushing back, like a Tsunami wave-unstoppable, huge, all-consuming. There is no halting it's path of destruction, but there is nothing left to destroy-its all GONE!!
There was a reason, long ago. Long, long ago. Decades- or was it just years? Months?
Seconds turn to minutes as minutes turn to hours. I was trying to save something, wasn't I? Was that the point? What was it that needed saving? The Innocent? Innocence was the first to go-in the form of red hair, and sweet little blue eyes set in pink cheeks that once lifted in a smile.
An image overlaid with dripping blood, a flood of unnamed fluid, and torn undies, pushed up skirts.
Was that what he was supposed to have saved?
No-there must have been something else.
Revenge maybe?
The cold that creeps in as a dark specter nears, drawing in hissing breathes that chill your bones so that they freeze, so frozen that all it takes is one swift kick to break them all, as her screams echo in your head, red hair and green eyes, so like your own, flashing in their last act of defiance.
Bushy hair littered the floor in torn out clumps as a red-headed body thrust itself near your ear to tell of a whispered Imperio, quiet sobs, a broken promise, and ripped innocence. He was already just another corpse in the pile--
NO!! No, there had to be something else, because in the end the brief joy at the screams of the enemy, the dark ones, does not bring them back, it never brings them back, they will never be back…
So, really-what was the point?