Izaya didn't know what to do anymore.

Laying in the hospital bed, with two broken arms, no use of his legs, and wounded all over. The events that led up to his hospitalization were replaying in his head, causing fear to spike through his heart. But he couldn't stop it. Why? Why was he feeling this way? It didn't make sense, he felt so strange, so empty, so..

So afraid..

But he had no way to act upon it. He couldn't leave in his state, and nobody had visited him or come to check him out. Sitting up burned the knife wound in his stomach. His food had to be given to him by nurses, who treated him like he was fragile. But, as much as Izaya wanted to deny the fact, he knew the truth. He was fragile, and that was because he was only human.

He tried to deny it, at least at first. Izaya attempted to laugh it off, claiming that he was a god and nothing could phase him. But with the constant pain from his wounds, the lost muscle mass, and the trauma that he had gained, it was hard to deny anymore.

Yes, he knew it now. His fight with Shizuo taught him that much. He had come so close to death, he had been injured so bad. The gun had been right at his temple, he had been so close to death.. So close, so close.. He was so afraid, so afraid.

Suddenly, the heart monitor was frantically beeping in his ears, his breathing turning into violent, fearful gasps. Nurses dashed in, as his mind blanked out with terror, unsuccessfully trying to lure him from his panic attack. When it didn't work, they eventually had to sedate him to keep him from hurting himself.

This, sadly, was now the norm for Izaya. At first, he tried to deny it. But after injuring one of his hands further, he woke up to face reality. He was traumatized by the fight. Even a simple thought about it sent him into a panic, closing his eyes led him to have nightmares, and even thinking about Ikebukuro brought back terrible memories. He didn't know how he could live like this, all alone and afraid.

His appearance wasn't good either. He wasn't really fond of sharp things, so the nurses hadn't been able to trim his hair. It was about an inch longer, but that was fine, it hid his baggy eyes. But his skinny frame and skin that seemed to grow paler by the day.

It was several months during his stay that his less injured arm was freed from its cast, and he was able to sit up. There was a sizeable scar on his stomach now from the knife wound that Voro- no -she gave him, and his panic attacks didn't help the stitches stay put.

After having the mobility once more, he finally was able to check his phone. He tapped around for a while, before reaching his contacts. He shifted through them, before coming across Shiki's name. He went to press the button, but before his finger could brush the green dot, he stopped.

If he pressed the button, he'd fall right back into the lifestyle that got him into this situation. Izaya's own poor judgements and his life of being practically a criminal, it's what got him in this hospital bed, it's what led him to being the pathetic thing he was now.

Izaya heard the heart monitor pick up again, his hand beginning to shake. "No.. No no.." He whispered out, tears building up in his eyes. "No more, no more.." He stuttered,"I can't.. I CAN'T! I CAN'T!"

With a panicked scream, Izaya threw the corrupt phone. It shattered on the tile floor, pieces tumbling all through the room. With it broken, Izaya's fragile state of mind seemed to crumble as well. He didn't want to hurt people anymore, he didn't want to help crime anymore..

He didn't want to be an informant broker anymore.

The thought hit him like a vending machine, but he couldn't- he wouldn't- deny it. That was because it was true.. He didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. He now understood, he knew what pain felt like. He was feeling emotions that he'd never felt before, sadness, pain, regret, loss, and confusion. He didn't even know how to feel about himself.

His actions, all that he had done.. Izaya wanted to take them back, he regretted everything that brought him to this point.

Those thoughts continued to surface up, and Izaya felt his eyes burning with the foreign feeling of tears. His free hand went to his face, shaking as he rubbed his eyes. All the emotions and feelings he had been hiding behind a cracking dam finally broke free. Loud, panicked sobs escaped him, as he released his anguish completely.

His mask had broken, Izaya couldn't hide the depression that swaddled him, nor the panic and trauma that seemed to be a part of him.

"It hurts.." He croaked, hunching forward as diamond tears fell on the blanket below him. "It hurts so bad.. I.. I'm so afraid.. I just.. I just want it to stop.. P-please.. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore, I'm so sorry.."

Izaya sniffed shakily, his breath hitching. "I.. I can't.. I can't stay here.. I need to leave.. I can't stay here anymore.." He finally declared, as he broke down into sobs once more.

For the first time since he had woken up in this damn hospital, he was finally sure of something.

He was leaving, and he was never coming. back.

After all he had caused, it was the least he could do..

Two Months Later

Izaya left as soon as he could. He bought the first plane ticket he could find, and flew as far away as possible from the damned city. But it seemed he could never rest..

Even being around people seemed to make his skin crawl, and anxiety spike through him like he'd never felt before. He was petrified, shaking the entire flight and he didn't know how to stop it. His hands were shoved against his lap, hunched forward in the middle seat as he tried to keep himself from being touched as much as possible.

Even after landing in the airport, his nerves couldn't seem to cease. People stared.. They stared and they whispered. Their eyes seemed to gore through him, straight into his soul. They were filled with pity and morbid curiosity. Then, they would whisper..

"Poor guy.. He's in a wheelchair.."

"Did you see his hands? They're all mangled.."

"What a weak guy.."

"Probably can't do anything anymore.."

"What a sad life to live.."

Izaya hated it, he hated the noises, he hated the stares. He knew he was a sad, pathetic excuse for a human being. Nobody had to remind him.. He just wanted to be alone, to be unnoticed. Why couldn't he just be left alone?!

But he felt so trapped.. He didn't know what to do next. His shaking hands went down to his wheels, pushing himself forward as fast as he could. His arms felt like they were being shot through with needles.. It hurt really badly, his eyes burned with tears, but he had to get out.. He had to get out.

He made it to the hotel, but everything still felt wrong. His anxiety was spiraling out of control. This place wasn't safe.. People were still everywhere.. His room wasn't safe, people could get in.

Izaya shuddered, his hand going to his mouth as he chewed on his nails nervously. It still wasn't far enough, he thought he would feel safer if he was away from Tokyo.. But people were still everywhere.. It just wasn't safe..

The raven turned his head, staring at his laptop bag from under his bangs. Quickly, he opened up the computer. His fingers shook, he spelt several things wrong, but he didn't care. He just needed to find somewhere.. Anywhere to go where he could feel safe.

No matter how long it took.

One Week Later

Kyoto Prefecture Countryside

Izaya stared at the land in front of him, and the traditional Japanese house that stood in the middle of it. It was his house now, he owned it. He saw it's location and bought it without a second thought. It was in the middle of the large countryside, surrounded by rice fields which were surrounded by mountains. Neighbors were few and far between, the nearest actual town was miles away. His home was surrounded by trees, and hard to find if you didn't know the way.

Here he could be alone.

Here, he would be safe.

But he wasn't safe yet. The real estate agent was next to him, causing Izaya's shaking to start up again. "It's a nice house, huh?" He said in a boisterous tone.

Izaya nodded to himself, his hand going to his mouth, chewing on his nails. They looked over at him curiously, before saying,"You know, I know some people who can get you more furniture and anything else you might need. Would you like to tour the house before I go?"

Izaya's throat felt dry, as he quickly shook his head. The agent seemed to realize the fear he was feeling, and said,"Well, I need to head back to the city. Enjoy your new house, Orihara-san!" Izaya watched him go, his shuddering beginning to cease. Then, he turned back to the large house.

Considering the large home was above the ground, Izaya managed to push himself inside as clouds began to darken the sky. He looked up at them, beginning to relax for the first time in months...

CLAP!

Izaya let out a frantic cry, his body jerking in fright so badly that he fell from his wheelchair. The wheelchair rolled back, before hitting a bag on the floor, and falling backwards with a large clatter. But Izaya's mind was already too far gone to realize what happened.

The loud noise, it reminded him of the gun.. The gun he was almost shot with. His hands went to his head, as his eyes and stomach wound began to burn. Frantic, terrified gasps escaped Izaya as he began to descend into total panic. The gun, the knife.. The fear, the fear, the fear..

The sound of raindrops on the tile roof brought Izaya back to himself. His body froze, his hands remaining threaded into his hair, as he looked over at his wheelchair. Too stressed and exhausted to try anymore, Izaya let his body go limp on the ground.

His eyes suddenly burned again, but this time Izaya let the tears flow. They tumbled down his cheeks, and onto the tatami mats below him. He sniffed, rolling onto his side, curling the part of his body he could still move into the best ball he could, while his limp legs remained lifeless below that, and his hands moving to his eyes as he broke out into complete sobs once more.

It hurt.. Everything hurt.. Izaya wished that he could just fade away and die. But he didn't deserve death. Monsters like him deserved to suffer, deserved to feel all the pain they had caused. But, if he had to suffer, then he could do it alone..

Being alone meant that nobody could hurt you..