I do not own Claymore.
Final Moment
Befitting for me. Completely tragic for the girl. Who will take care to watch over her now?
In a world tarnished with hate, I didn't mind living an existence that lacked the warmth of another. It wasn't as if I could trust anyone, after all, a person who's only part beast is still merely a monster. We know that, and accept that fate willingly. For our own reasons, we suffer, so that we can attain our own measure of peace. Solace found only within the swords we carry. Irony isn't something I fall pray to often, it doesn't suit me. So, why is it, in a world filled with hate, and as the monster that I am, I'm not continually despised by the one who should likely hate me the most? Shouldn't she fear me? Hate me? Wish me dead? I would not blame her if the thought had crossed her mind.
She smelled distinctly of death, reeked of the bowels, drool, and hunger that could only be found on the most deranged of creatures. I beat her, shoved her away as if she were a piece of worthless meat. She came at me, time and time again, and I never realized why...I never gave a single thought about that human instinct that we all share, even a claymore, the urge to care for another. I never thought that could be why, so, perhaps with a brand of cruelty worse than offering her death, I let her linger at my side.
I was alright, with watching her fall down from exhaustion, from hunger. If I had wanted, I could have sped off into the distance...why didn't I? Why did I allow her to follow me for so long? Why did I allow myself to keep a watchful eye over her, even with my back turned, and my cruelty as sharp as my wit? Why did I jump from the such a height, only to watch her tumble down...why did I cause such pain?
I wish I could better understand the side of myself that I often keep suppressed. Was it because I am a monster, is that why I lacked the compassion? Was it fear of this little girl? This, completely human girl...that's part of it. She is a human, and she doesn't belong with me. I wish I had a better answer for her, but all I ever seem to do, is cause this child a world of hurt that I can't imagine. I left her ill-begotten in a city that awaited death, even though I promised to keep her safe...it was another good deed, turned into a nightmare, and, in that way, I forgot exactly who I am.
What I am...
Perhaps that was the price of remembering who I was...what I was...and the heart I wish to keep as I die.