By
The Kendo Bunny
Alone, again. The door swings on its broken hinges… in and out, scraping and squeaking until I want to rip it to pieces. They say that times like this are supposed to be silent, so the only sound you can hear is your own heart breaking. I wish I could find the bastards who started that rumor and kill them. The wind is screaming like there's no tomorrow, and for all I care, there isn't. It blows through the cracks in the window, freezing cold, but it can no longer touch me. An hour ago I would have done something about it, but there's no point now.
Is my heart broken? I doubt that… there's no feeling at all. If it were shattered, there would be a screaming, wrenching pain, to great for a man to handle. But there's nothing… a cold, empty space in my chest. I was just starting to get used to a feeling there, but it's gone again. The brief flash of warmth did nothing while it was here, and now it's gone. I suppose I could always die, but there's no point in that. Suicide is for desperate lovers, not for men like me.
Was it love? No, I doubt that. There was something… but I couldn't call it love. You can't love a dead man the same way you would love a live one. Even your best friend can't feel the same way… when presented with the choice he chose the live woman. That could hurt a living man I suppose. But not a dead one. A dead man doesn't care if his best friend leaves him. A dead man doesn't care if the woman he once loved leaves him. A dead man doesn't care about his surroundings.
They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. Again, they lied. Although, maybe I was born dead, and was never granted the grace to lie down anywhere. I don't remember living as a child; I must have been dead even then. I experienced life twice: when I met him, and when I met her. Maybe they were the only two people who were ever truly alive, so that makes a dead man useless. I knew that… I felt it… and now they're alive together, leaving me to rot in my grave.
They say the curse of the dead is the strongest
curse of all. They better not have lied again.
Disclaimer: Much as I hate to, I have to say
that I don't own Cowboy Bebop, and I very unfortunately don't own Vicious.
And I won't insult anyone's intelligence by saying what the story's about.
All I wish to say now is don't forget about all those who are living dead.