This is a school assignment, so don't think I'm makin' a third story (this is a one-shot if you haven't noticed). The turned in version will probably be way more censored, as this is the 'raw' version. Names were also changed, so I could avoid plagiarizing anything, and thus fail my assignment. Funny thing is trying to find a moral to this, that made it hard.

Morals: (1) One can obtain personal growth from reading/writing morbid stuff. [teacher's response: perhaps... (2) Don't do to others what you don't want done to yourself.

Warning: Lots of blood.

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Diluted
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He woke up slowly, the feint sound of dripping echoing in his vicinity, the scattered smell of iron filling his senses, his mind defogging from his unconsciousness. At first his vision was blurry, everything was fuzzy and dark. A thin light was able to crawl down the the dull brick walls, illuminating the thin strip inbetween the two building that surrounded him.

The young male slowly pulled himself up, pain shooting from just about anywhere in his body to his head.

There was another drip, landing in what sounded like a puddle. He looked down, dark crimson surrounded him, highlighted by the minuet amounts of light able to reach the ground. His eyes widened in fear, and he quickly scanned the alley. When his eyes hit the opening to society, what met his eyes caused him to back up.

A stream, about a quarter of the three meter alley in width, flowed into the gutter and down the street. His eyes followed the small river upstream. If possible, his eyes widened even more. There, about a meter farther in the alley than he was, was a mound of flesh, bleeding profusely.

The teen dragged himself closer to the spectical causing the river of life giving fluids. It was a small girl. She looked half her age, but her features told another story. Fear was etched into her open eyes, her body holding only a trance of stiffness. She body looked as if a rabid animal had ripped her apart, a necklace of fading purple told of how she was held during the ordeal.

He felt for a pulse, there was none. While checking, he noticed that her signs of struggle were branded into his body. The tingling sensations he felt earlier were from deep scratch wounds she had given him; they covered his arms and had started invading his face. He felt bruises on his abdomen and legs.

The teen stumbled back, falling against an overfilled trash can. A geyser of wrappers and half eaten stale food stuffs became strewn across the general area. A thin paper wrapper ripped from its Del Taco burrito landed on the dead girl. Some other shredded wrappers landed on the living teen.

'I have to get out of here,' was his only thought. However, it only acted as a leader for the questioned that pounded into his head. 'I-I did this, didn't I? How? I don't remember doing anything like this!'

An itching in the back of his mind brought him out of his thoughts.

'...es... di...it...'

The teen's eyes widened, his head jerking around the alley, searching for the voice he heard. The sound of the voice dripped heavily with insanity. Like overly sweet honey, covering his mind in uneasiness.

'You did... know... did.'

He tried to sink into the wall, panic rising from the voice's clarity this time around. The voice had a tinge of his own voice the second time around.

"Who-who's there?" The teen's quiet, hysterical voice asked the emptiness of the alley. "Where are yo-you?"

'I'm with ya... in ya... yer mind.'

The teen clutched his head, his grip turning his fingers white. His eyes squeezed shut.

It didn't help. At all. Bright gold irises stared back at him from his self induced darkness. Those eyes held a malicious intent, caked with pride and arrogance.

"What...?!" He yelled, his eyes snapping open, scanning for the owner of the terrible eyes that still glowed in his mind's eye. "What's going on?!"

Tears seemed to brim his eyes, but didn't fall. Panic was the only emotion in his features.

'We killed her... aibou.'

"No! Why would I do something like that?! What was your motive?!"

'Why would we need a motive ta kill 'er?'

The frighten teen's tears finally flooded down his face. One from each eye before they were dammed again.

"You're crazy," he whispered, his voice cracking and shaking.

'If I'm carzy, then so are you.'

"What do you mean?! I'm perfectly sane!"

'You're talkin' ta me. How is tha' 'perfectly sane?''

"Wha-what?!"

'Name's Kuroji. Ya can look a' me as an embodiment of yerself.'

"An-an embodiment?"

'Yeah. Look closely. Don' ya recognize 'er?'

He studied the dead body. This time, closer. It was Rukia, a classmate he was friends with. She had silky black hair, now clotted with drying blood. Her dark crystal blue eyes staring at his in a fogged over glaze.

"No," he whimpered, clutching his head again. "No... no... no...'

'Yes... this is wha' ya wanted... tha' little whore was only makin' yer life hell. Tha's wha ya kept thinkin' every time she ma'e fun of ya, insulted ya, questioned ya.'

"I-I never wanted her dead!"

'Then why go through the trouble of creatin' me?'

"Wha-?"

'Yer hatred for those who hate who you are led to my birth if ya would like ta call i' tha'.'

"I never wanted anyone to die!" He yelled.

The echoing caused him to sink farther into the wall, if that was possible. A small window was opened a few floors above him and a head stuck out slightly. It turned from left to right before going back in. The owner closing the window and dismissing the scream.

The teen waited a few minutes before dragging himself off his rear. He had to get away.

A metal clanging resounded as he kicked a half smashed can of Monster. The bottom of the can was ripped off somehow, revealing the sharpness of the thin metal. It was covered in blood, most of it dry.

He turned towards Rukia, noticing circular cut-outs in her nightshirt. His body started shaking even more than it already was.

'Ah, tha' was a fun one ta use on 'er.'

The teen threw the can at the wall. He noticed that the walls that surrounded him seemed to close in on him, the blood on them glowing in his eyes. His mind told him to run, but his legs wouldn't move. The entirety of the scene soaked into his mind, every detail embedding into his memory.

Slowly, he back out of the alley. His shoes squishing with the absorbed blood, splashing in the red stream. Everything looked red to him, even the moon that showed brightly in the starless sky. All he could smell was the iron in their mixed blood, all he could feel was the sticky substance covering his body, all he could taste were the trace amount of blood in his mouth from when Rukia had ripped open his cheek in an attempt to get away, all he hear was his own blood rushing through his ears, as well as the insane voice in his head. It was giggling.

"Shut up," he whispered as he began to run from the scene. His footsteps taking him to a park on the outskirts of the city. It was tranquil, the moon light making the eucalyptus leaves on the lake seems to have an outlining glow.

The teen kneeled on one of the rocks surrounding the lake, and looked at his reflection. Blood covered half his face, and most of his clothes. Most of it was dry. His injuries had scabbed over for the most part. Memories of the scene he woke up to, and that of his mother's death 6 years earlier surfaced. All that blood from someone so kind...

He shook his head, reality coming back. He had killed someone, and he was hearing a voice in his head. There was no way that was normal.

'I know yer thinkin' 'bou' killin' yerself. I won' let ya. If you die, I die. I was just born, no way in hell I'm lettin' ya die.'

"Shut up," he quietly whispered to Kuroji.

'Why shoul' I?'

"I don't care what you think."

'Oh?'

His hand shot up to his throat, its grip tight. The teen let go of the rock, and he fell into the lake. Dried blood flaked off and started to spread as the body they were attached to thrashed in the deserted park lake.

"Let... go!" The teen yelled at the voice living in his head.

'Nah. Why woul' I do tha' if yer so desperate ta die? If I have ta die, I'm gonna make sure ya suffer!' Kuroji's voice echoed in the teen's head, to polar emotions filling the voice – anger and smugness.

The splashing continued for another ten minutes before the body sank to the shallow, rocky bottom of the lake. Half the scabs bleeding freely again from the bashing the teen's body had taken during the self mutilation. One of his eyes was dyed an incredibly dark crimson, his own blood soaking and sitting in the sensory organ. His brown eye seemed to glow golden as the sun slowly started to rise.

Within a few hours, an ambulance and investigation team covered the park. A early morning jogger came across the scene after he followed a broken trail of blood that crossed his daily path. The teen's body was removed, the park closed so the police and investigation teams could work in reasonable peace.

Little did they know the teen's spirit sat on a nearby boulder, watching the whole thing. All his injuries were gone, save for the darkness in his left eye. The blood had turned what was once white, black, and his iris had changed as well. It was a sickening honey gold. His mismatched eyes followed the people shifting through the water, and an insane giggle escaped his lips.

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Well, if any of you are curious, the only name I changed was Ichigo's and Rukia's. I made him "Shiroji" and her "Boushi," which translated to 'dead child.' I found it fitting. x3

Concept idea from Sephy-chan.

Review!