The Nephilim's Burden

by SimonBlackquillEatsASandwich

The Nephilim know from birth that they will most likely die young, that they will most likely have to watch someone they love die young. But how does it really feel when it happens? Jace knows. (Now edited to not all be one paragraph so it's less insanely hard to read)

Pain is not a choice.

It never comes slowly.

It never lets you get your bearings first before it rains down on you with all the fires of hell.

As a hunter of demons, you'd think that would be something I'd be able to deal with.

It is not something I will ever be able to get used to, not something any of my fellow Nephilim

will be able to get used to, not something that any mundane or some other life form can truly say they've grown used to, or be able to say it's effects no longer bother them.

It never lets you take a break.

It is never lifted, only forgotten, but it's effects still stay.

Your heart is heavy with all the pain you've ever experienced, be it emotional or physical.

All pain is true pain.

While some is more severe than others, pain is all made of the same material.

It may be forgotten, may no longer be worried over.

But it stays.

Your brain may not remember, but your skin remembers.

Your heart remembers.

I will never forget it.

I will never forget the pain of seeing the crimson hair sprawled out on the snow, it's owner motionless.

But with it I will never forget the joys of running my fingers through that hair, the joys of smiling into eyes fiercer than what I will ever be able to achieve.

Pain cannot be forgotten, but neither can joy, for without one the other does not exist.

For now I am enveloped in pain, but the joy will come.

The joy will come some day soon.