Icy Hell
Who would have thought that Hell would be so cold; not the fiery pit that is described in the holly books down in the center of the earth but a chilling—nearly numbing—loneliness here on the surface. Indeed it was my own personal hell. I'd been cheated out of death and cheated a demon out of his meal in exchange for an eternity of servitude. And now, even after all of these years, he still looks upon me with empty eyes and a longing for the things he would never acquire- my soul, and liberation from this horrible thing I've become. I was a ghost of my former self—a new born demon walking around in a host body.
In all honesty, I didn't completely lie to those I had left behind to grow old and die. I, too, had died that day. The part of me—the biggest part of me—that was Earl Ciel Phantomhive had died the moment I had become a demon. The moment I had become a joke. And I couldn't help but laugh—laugh at the cruel, sick joke that life has told to me. I was ready to die, too. I had wanted it; craved it, even. Yet here I am, more or less alive, and unable to die. For someone else, they would hunger after the immortality in lieu of death, fearing the unknown. Sweet irony—why do you taste so bitter?
Bitterness lingered in the food I once adored as well, now. It had been that way ever since my first real meal as a demon. And, oh, how sweet of a meal it was. She was only seven, my first meal, but she was brimming with loathing and pure hatred for her abusive step father who had a habit of abusing her mother and viciously raping her. She did it for her mother, mostly; the whole revenge thing. In three days time, I had helped her go from pulling cheep pranks to boiling the man in his own bathtub. It was her idea to drug him to greatly weaken his motor skills and boil him, but it was my idea to make sure the drug didn't stop him from feeling everything. She watched him scream and writhe while his skin blistered and peeled off the muscle: She watched as the muscles were eaten away to reveal the white bones: she watched until his screams ceased and his heartbeat went from frantic to still: and she watched it all with a malicious grin that shouldn't belong on any small child's face.
Alas, my last meal was had shortly after my first. I hated not feeling anything accept full after eating, so I had decided to starve myself. Starving meant feeling something new and, with any hope, it would mean my death. But my death didn't come. I had asked Sebastian about it—if it were possible for a demon to starve to death. Much to my dismay, I cannot simply die of starvation. The only thing starving would prove to do would be to drive me insane. Briefly I considered the pros and cons of insanity, though eventually decided that it would end up hurting me more than it helped. Still, I refused to eat. The discomfort I felt from starving was amazingly excruciating, like a black hole in my gut that insisted on growing wider and wider with each passing day.
At this moment, I was in my bedroom at the small house Sebastian and I resided at, sitting on my too-small bed. I held a dagger in my hand, balanced on my middle and fore-finger as I studied it. It was crafted with fine steel and had several sapphires imbedded in the handle and worked with the design so the blade was the center of focus. It was a lovely dagger. Absently, I brought the tip to my stomach and pressed it towards me enough to feel discomfort but not enough to break the skin. I drew a deep, unnecessary breath, pulling the blade back slightly, before moving to jab the weapon deep into my gut. I held back the urge to gag as the shiny steel sliced through my stomach and almost reached my spine. Slowly I pulled out the bloody blade and let it fall to the floor with a noisy clatter as I fell back on the bed, clenching my gut. And I smiled. This pain was brilliant: it was so powerful and it stung in so many ways. I could feel my own blood soaking my gloves and wetting my hands. Not too long after, I could feel my body begin repair itself. I could detect every thread of muscle and skin tissues bind together as I clenched at my no-longer bleeding stomach. When the pain dulled, I lifted my hands to my face, staring that the blood-stained black gloves.
Between my fingers, I could see Sebastian as he sat away from me, watching from the farthest corner of the room. He was there the whole time and he didn't make one move to stop me. I didn't have to wonder why because I was sure I already knew the answer. I wouldn't stop my object of betrayal from doing themselves damage, either. Feeling mostly relieve from the aftershock, I rolled onto my back and straitened out. Diligently, I lifted the hem of my shirt over my stomach and up to my chest. I pulled off my gloves with my teeth before tracing my reddened fingers over the spot where only a puckered pink line remained before that, too, disappeared before my very eyes. Not even a scar to prove I had done any harm to myself. I snorted quietly in distaste.
"Sebastian." I called quietly. He stood from the lone chair and made his way to my side.
"Yes, my lord?"
"If I had ordered you to kill me, could you?"
"I cannot. It would void the contract."
"Ah, but you would be free of me, no? Am I not a burden?" He was silent for a long moment and I was slowly losing my patients. "Am I not a burden, Sebastian?" I repeated. "Answer me."
"No, my lord." I glanced over at him.
"Don't lie to me. You swore to never lie to me." I could hear him give a small sigh.
"I do not lie, young master." He said, tonelessly. I frowned at his lack of emotion.
"Then allow me to rephrase the question: if you had the opportunity, would you kill me?" I asked, seriously.
"No, my lord." He repeated.
"Why not?" my eyes brightened and changed from cerulean blue to glittering, silted rubies. His eyes changed to match mine; seeing the challenge I instilled and challenged back.
"Because; you've yet to present me with a reason to show you mercy."
I gave a small, sad smile, letting the power that had bubbled to the surface diminish. "I see. You may leave, now." He bowed and took his leave, leaving me alone in the quiet room. I let my smile fall back into a line. My arms snaked around my chest, suddenly feeling cold. My skin was icy to the touch; my being aching with a chilling emptiness. I was alone and I knew it. There was no form of suicide I could attempt and no one I could trust with my feelings; no one I could confide with or feel a sense of companionship. Maybe the world had it backwards and heaven was blazing and on fire down in an escapable pit. I was fairly certain that it was where my heaven was: somewhere warm. Anything was better than this icy hell on earth.
I dont realy write serious stuff for fanfictions so i hope this is good ^-^
please review and let me know if i should write more like this~!