Disclaimer: KHR's not mine, but this is my story. Edited.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts! It hurts! IT HURTS! SOMEONE! PLEASE! IT HURTS! I CAN'T STAND IT! IT HURTS! PLEASE! STOP THE PAIN!

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A once mother sits alone by herself on the pristine white hospital bed, dressed in a white hospital gown as disbelief coursed through her veins of what had just occurred. She felt dead, her own soul had died. She thought that she would finally be happy. She thought that she could finally have at least a little of her loneliness appeased, but it seems that God can't even grant her that simple wish. She can't have it anymore. She can't have a child anymore. She's lost her only one, and she can't, nor would she even if she can, have another one. Her little angel's gone. Her little boy has died. The child that resided in her abdomen was supposed to have been born. Her little baby was supposed to have a happy life. He was supposed to have been here with her at this second, and not dead, not from the miscarriage. He should've been at least given a chance, a chance to live. But no, he wasn't even given that and she wasn't given the chance of having a child, having someone to be by her side, having her loneliness appeased.

Her husband's not here. She's all alone and has to bear this all by herself. It's only her, herself, and no one else. You see what's happening to the once cheerful brunette woman and you let the tears fall freely. She shivers and looks around, her empty brown eyes barely glancing at the spot where you're standing at, completely bypassing your presence. You feel a twinge of pain in your heart, but you squashed it down right away. You can't allow that feeling to grow, for what you have taken and what you've destroyed, you can't have the relief of feeling anything. You can wish for it all you want, but nothing will come out of it, for it's only for you. You have to understand, that what you've taken, even if it's for their own good, has a large price that needs to be paid. You have to understand what you've caused. It's not only this woman that you've killed off.

The boy continues to sob in his sleep, pleading to be spared from the pain he felt. He was in Hell, its blue and green fire from the bottom of its depths consuming him up and breaking him into complete and utter pieces. He's lost in that realm, unable to find an escape route. You were once able to give him a chance, yourself a chance. You could've taken him from there, but you didn't. There were many things that you could've given instead of taken, but you chose another path and the light that was supposed to be, isn't. It just isn't. Now he thinks about the light of which should've been, of what could've been. He wants his light back, he wants it back desperately. He would climb through all levels of Hell, allowing the agony causing fire to lick at him if only to glimpse that light one more time. He wants to see that light again, please give him that one chance.

Somewhere else a raven sits on his own bed, leaning against the wall and allowing insomnia to plague him. There's really no reason that he finds plausible enough to sleep anyway. Or he just doesn't return to that peaceful dream and wake up to find that it's all but a dream, nothing more than that. He sits there and ponders about those happy times, now gone from his grasps. He wants it back, he yearns for those times to be back. He wants his happiness back, he wants his heart back, he wants his so-called life back, give it back to him. Please don't be selfish and take it away. Please think of the pain you caused others by doing so. Please don't save him just to kill him again. If it's to be so, it would have been better at the time when you had only let him go. Let him go, and no suffering shall have to last any longer than the needed. Let him go and he wouldn't have to linger then, for the only one that holds him had already gone. Yet, these harsh imaginations keeps him rooted. He only wants to be alleviated, but that one right was taken from him for your nonexistence and your truth that was allowed to seep to him. Please don't be the one person that he never wanted you to be. Please just give him his necessities back.

Then there's that child back in Italy. He's not even in bed, the boy of only five. He should've been home, peacefully sleeping like a child of his age should, and yet he isn't. That small boy, still so small like a babe, crouches in the dark alleyways of Italy, trying to stay inconspicuous and not be found. He doesn't want to go back. Not yet. He doesn't want to go back to that lonely place that's called home, where no warmth greets him and no parents that care for him exist. He wants to be elsewhere. The elsewhere where he could have a warm home, a loud and boisterous family, a caring yet ditsy mom, a useless but kind older brother, and last but not least a place where he belongs to. Though all of that are only unattainable dreams, imaginary figures that's not even remotely close to his reach. He wants to be stronger than this, he needs to be in order to survive in this treacherous world. But he can't be, for he's only a kid who yearns for what he can't have at all. In the end he's just a child who needs a dream, just a child who needs love, just a child who yearns to be needed, can't you return those things to him? He needs those, desperately so, please give it back?

The fourth one. He's a boy but he's not one. He stays hidden and yet he can be seen so clearly like crystal clear glass. He's a fragile boy with a fragile mind. So he has high walls up, it surrounds his whole being, protecting him from the pain outside, protecting him from the kindness that people like you might give, protecting him from the worse of the human kind who could hurt him the most; you. He avoids it so much, so quickly, and has done so for so long. It's painful to watch, and it's tearing to understand why he does so, yet nothing could've really been done. But then you went ahead and destroyed that fact. You ruined all that he had to protect him and you broke him down. You broke him to save him, and yet, in the end, you're the one to completely destroy him. Please, I beg of you, return his protection and give him what he wants back. He wants his high walls up again, he wants his being to be sheltered by those tall blockades, he wants to be kept alone and quarantined. He wants, and needs, his own little prison to survive, his own little cage that keeps him from the outside world. Please give him those, he needs them to survive and you took it. Please return it.

Now you come to a white haired boy. His hair wasn't always such a color, it was once a beautiful sleek black, but now it's just a dull white because of you. The boy you see is leaning against a light pole, a solemn look upon his normally energetic face. He's facing the ground, and gritting his teeth with his bandaged hands clenched in fists hidden in his pockets. Those extreme feelings that well up inside of his chest makes him want to cry out and just scream as loud as he can, but at the same time he can't make a single sound for the feeling of his throat being constricted prevents him from doing so. All that he could hear was a buzzing in his ears while you only hear his rough breathing in the dark night. He thinks, right now, of what could've been and what should've been. The future he experienced, the future he envies. The family he lost, and the agony that tortures him so. He wants those dreams, because it can't be true -it's not true-, to come back to him and allow him peace from the eternal confusion of his insomniac mind. You took that away also. How many more minds will you have to break? He's suppose to only be an ordinary boy who only has normal things running in his mind, albeit it being a little extreme. But you stole that, and he wants it. Please, give him it back. Give it back and spare him the agony of this feeling. The feeling of floating in the middle of nowhere but having something pull at you so strongly that you unrelentingly head towards that direction but can't because you're stuck. Stuck in this so called reality. He didn't ask for this, so just give him his damned normality back.

This here is the last one, and he has it the worse. He could hear, he could see, and he could feel. Those emotions, those sights, those sounds; they're all engraved into his mind. The phantom wails of laughter, the pitter patter of feet on the floor, and the boisterous voices wafting through the air. He was always the one to witness them. He was always the one to only look on, and not join in. Now he wishes that he could have actually participated with the crowding, wishes that he could been more involved. But now, all he lives in is but a nightmare. For he hears the voices, feels their presence, and see the events. But when he looks, all that's left is but a dream within a dream. This emptiness pains him so, this silence installs fear in his steel heart, and this unbearable grief causes him to die over and over again everyday. He has never asked for this, he has never wanted this. You were the one who showed him those and you single handedly took it apart; you broke this proud man. He wants his pride, he wants his barriers, he wants his solitude, he wants his life, but most of all, he wants you to have never appeared. For if you didn't, this wouldn't have occurred. Please, though. He doesn't really mean that. He doesn't. But you have to return what you've stolen to make him see that. He wants those things back, and you being gone isn't helping. You being nonexistent is just heart wrenching, because it tells. It tells of the lies, and the truths that can't be real. Just give it back, return it please.

You now sit alone in the big expanse of white, the small pool is now empty and you can't go back to see again, you can't go back and know more. Your knees are pulled up to your chest and your head is put in you lap. You rock your body that's but a shadow back and forth. And you think. And you wonder.

You think of what could have been.

You wonder what you could have had.

You think that something should've been done.

You wonder what's been missing.

And last but not least, you think about the lives you've taken.

So here it is, with the whole truth displayed right in front of you. Now you want to grant those people happiness. You want them to have a life. You want them to live for themselves, and not grieve for the nonexistent; because you have never been and never will be.

So you grant yourself one single wish and gave them the last hope they'll receive.