Berserk life had been hell for her since the day she's been a kid. But, after finally realizing what she's done after a strange vision of hers, will Berserk decide to "end" it. And how will she?
This story has been Rated-M for moderate/strong violence and moderate/strong cursing.
I looked in my mirror and saw what seemed to be something I didn't want to see. Me. Everything from my light crimson eyes to my long red hair, to the last pore down into every bit of my flesh. My hair tied with a bunch of ribbons I used to wear as a kid, now a head band and ponytail holder. I remembered being a kid again. It felt like yesterday. I plopped on my bed. Laying there, looking at my once, shared room with my sisters. I studied the changes. It was all punk, goth, and skater stuff. Every shade of pink, rose, crimson, and red. Perfect for any punk kinda girl like me. Every corner seemed different. Like I stepped into a whole new house altogether. Every time I looked, another memory. The corner: once my blond sister's "creative place." She would sketch the clothes she wanted, do her hair, and do voodoo on her dark violet octopus doll she gave up years ago. I remember it, all blue. Now, it was a dark red rocking chair with a black pillow for the back and the seat. I looked up at the red ceiling. Now covered with posters with punks and gothic singers. Some of them I didn't even know, and only put them up because they looked cool. A flash of memory came to me, the words: "True Punks Room". It were the three words my sisters and I used to look up to every night before we went to bed. They were our lives. We were the punk girls of the gang now. Our new gang. I looked all over: closet, vanity, door, window, carpet, bed, nightstand, corners, walls, everything. None of it familiar. Ever time remembering another memory. No matter how many times I tried to keep my mind on the thought of my sisters getting their own rooms and me finally done decorating my own room, being happy, playing the music I wanted, no change to something corny or utter death like as my sisters wanted it. My own wardrobe that could have all the pink, red, crimson, rose, blood, and black clothes I wanted. My own bed with no one to kick me at night. My vanity I could do for whatever I wanted. My table for my drawings. No matter how many times I tried to remember the first night my room had finally been perfect without my sisters played in my mind, I couldn't control the fact none seemed to happen. It felt like a dream. Especially now. I was 14 already. Oldest and being top dogs at my middle school. Finally getting an A in all my classes. Getting whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. This didn't seem real. None of it did. I was trapped forever in my own world. My own little place safe for me to call home, and I was a prisoner. The room suddenly began to spin. My head felt throbbing and heavy. I looked around the room again, holding my head. This time, it was something I recognized. The room was dark violet. The carpet was dark black. The closet filled to the top with red, blue, and green clothes. The entire place sharing red, blue, and green dots of something somewhere. The words were up on the ceiling again. I looked down, I was in my favorite outfit as a kid: a red and crimson school girl outfit with a checkered skirt, and cuffed at the collar single buttoned shirt. I had on my old favorite shoes. I felt my hair in a ponytail held with my favorite skull rubber-band. My bows were wild and in fours again. I was short. My head no longer throbbing. I got out of bed, unable to control myself. I walked down to the living room. There, my dad working on a remote control I had the urge to kick for some reason, my sisters killing each other rolling on the floor, and the entire place looking evil. I remembered it now: my childhood, all coming back to me. Suddenly I shut my eyes and landed in a place full of destruction. I realized I was hitting people with a light pole, my blond sister carrying a ship threatening others. But before I could catch a glimpse of my other sister, I saw 3 girls coming, looking just like us. I shut my eyes tight, I couldn't stand to see this again. I opened them again to see 3 boys, my sisters, and Jomo with a gun thing. The boys at there crying. I knew they were going to explode. Jomo yelled at us, "Thank you PowerPunks. FOR DESTROYING MY ONLY SONS!" The explosion happened. My eyes the only ones wide opened. My heart supposed to be filled with joy, instead, heartbreak. I shut my eyes tight after I seen Jomo had gone.
Next I saw my father, saying, "I'm Oppressor Plutonium. What are you three little brat looking girls named?" My birth. I shut my eyes and crouched down. I ran. But I wasn't running. I was moving my legs, but no movement. I opened my eyes again, alone in my own room. My head throbbing again, and very heavy. I held it again.
"No!" I yelled to myself. How could I not? All the mistakes I've ever made in my life: not helping my sisters, nearly killing my opposite self, blowing up Jomo's sons, all of them were the same: mistakes in my life I had made that cost people. The worst was saved for last: my birth. If I had never been born, I would've never caused this much pain, this much misery to so many people. I needed to end this tonight. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed the sharpest knife in the room. And looked at myself in a bowl of water. Me. A monster. Created to hurt others. I wanted to die. I deserved to die after seeing all the real pain I had caused. All the robberies. All the fights. All the explosions. I was only having fun, But I knew now that that fun I thought was hilarious, killed people. I was more than a monster. I was a murderer. "This. Ends. Tonight." I said holing the knife to my chest. "But, before I go," I began saying to my reflection, "I want to let you, Berserk Plutonium, know, that you are a fucked up bitch who has killed others. And has caused too much misery to live it down. You know you want to die. You deserve to die. Just. Like. Those you have. KILLED!!" I screamed as I threw my arms out in front of me so they'd have a bigger impact when landing on me. I screamed as I pulled the knife closer to my chest. The next thing I knew. I was on the ground with yelling, screaming, and crying from my sisters. My sight blurry. I could make out Brute holding the knife with her scarred hand(now she cuts). Brat was pinning me down, crying.
"Berserk you fucking moron! What the shit were you thinking stabbing yourself?!" Brute yelled pointing to the knife.
"Why Berserk?! WHY?!" My sister Brat was sobbing all over. Her tears landing on my face and mouth.
"I wanna die." I told them, "I deserve to fucking die! DON'T YOU GET IT?! I've been fucking created to be a fucked up murderer! I've done shitty things in my life! To fucked to live down anymore I can't take it anymore!! IT'S ALL FUCKING PAIN OKAY?!" I screamed. I let out my anger as my sisters got up. Brat no longer crying, Brute no longer yelling. My father ran down the stairs.
"What in the name of all my sanity is going on here?!" he demanded an answer.
"I want to die dad." I began to say as I got up, "You created me for your reasons to hurt people. All that I've done are just a bunch of shitty cruel murders and causing fucked up pain to others that I should feel because of what I did. I'm sick of knowing that no matter what I do, all my mistakes are coming back to me dad!" that last thought started making me cry. It was all true. Brute handed me the knife. I took it. I saw a bit of blood dripping from the edge. I didn't have to look to see my sisters and dad shocked. I felt my chest. There was a long cut where the blade must have slipped when Brute tied to take it. I kept stroking my hand against it. I looked down at the cut, finally my eyes off the knife, and saw I was bleeding from my chest. Just under my neck, enough to see. The blood seemed to not stop coming out. For some reason, I didn't care. And I let the blood keep flowing out of me.