*Author's note: Hey guys, this is my first fanfiction, so please rate & review, constructive criticism greatly appreciated! This is just my creative interpretation of what drove Akaito to suicide. Since DWC used lots of flowers as symbols, so did I! Just google the meanings, really only the ending ones are important. I don't own the song or anything, etc...*
Beautiful in Death
Akaito cringed away from the acid flung towards him. He didn't have the strength to bear any more wounds. He curled his broken body, making himself as small as possible.
Acid splashed up into his face, searing into his skin like hellfire. He could feel the fluid from his left eye dripping down the mass of flesh that was his face; the slightly black mush leaving a grotesque trail in its wake. He screamed in utter agony, all thoughts having left his mind aside from the horrendous pain he was being forced to endure. All he wanted was to pass out, but he his body didn't allow him that luxury.
His tormentors smirked at Akaito's writhing body, leaving the cage and locking the steel door behind them, their job complete.
"See you tomorrow, my little rainflower."
Akaito wanted to cry, but he was simply too tired, and his left tear duct was mangled from the acid. Instead, he lay shivering on the cold concrete of his cage, circus patrons staring in sickening awe at his newest mutilation.
Every day, he went through the same pain, to varying degrees. People enjoyed watching him and his fellow circus freaks suffer. There was no malevolence in their eyes, only a morbid fascination. Some days it was acid, other times it was amputation. He was lucky that today he only lost one eye. He had heard from the twins that the singer in cell 2 had lost both her eyes last week. Poor girl; she was so beautiful when she arrived, but now she was horribly mutilated. Akaito had even heard some of the circus masters talking about how they'd received a large sum of money from an anonymous 3rd party if they would take her by force.
Those sick bastards.
He tried to set himself upright, but was hit with a searing pain from his other wounds yet to heal. He grimaced and lay back down, exhausted from the ordeal.
Time passed at crawl; Akaito found himself counting the seconds until closing time, when the circus members received their meager meals and water. Akaito, however, received water and herbal supplements which smelled of wormwood; his mouth was so badly burned that he couldn't eat solid food.
He was miserable. He didn't understand why he was hear, what he had done to deserve this hell. In fact, he thought hell would be preferable to this humiliating torment he endured indefinitely, continuing every day until he draws his last breath. Hope had no place here.
The same thoughts circled around his mind every time darkness fell. "Why me, God?" He whispered with a broken voice.
"Please, just grant me salvation..." He spoke these empty words every night, and every night his prayers went unanswered. His faith, by now, was virtually nonexistent. He asked for salvation more out of habit now, rather than out of an actual desire to be saved. He knew he was going to die here.
The stars twinkled outside his cage, dried blood caked onto the walls, making the prison smell of iron and stale death. He wondered what would be done to him tomorrow. Just the thought of the following day made him want to burst into tears. He had no control over his life anymore. He was the plaything of the circus masters, who did whatever they wanted to him, no matter how painful.
He couldn't take it anymore! He felt as though he would lose his mind any day now, and would end up like the man in cell 3, monstrous and depraved, and above all, insane.
He could hear screams coming from somewhere in the circus, ear shattering and echoing in the twilight. He covered his ears, ignoring the pain where flesh touched charred skin.
It was too much.
Living was too much effort.
He made his decision.
Akaito crawled towards the corner of his room, where he hid the rope he stole from the storage shed one day when he was let out for a performance. He reached it and ran his hands over the coarse, thick material.
Better to get it over with before he changed his mind.
He tied the rope, resulting in a messy loop. It would get the job done. He crawled towards the center of his cage, and slowly stood up on shaking legs. He stretched up towards the hook on the ceiling. The pain of the wounds re-opening was indescribable. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite reach it, so he dragged his chair over and clambered on top of that.
The rope was hung, and Akaito was swaying on the chair. He slowly grabbed the rope and gently placed it around his neck. A twisted smile formed on his scarred face. He couldn't believe that freedom was just one step away. It had been right in front of him for so long, but he'd never been brave enough to make that choice.
Thoughts were swirling around his tormented conscious. He knew he was weak, he knew this was wrong, but it was so tempting. He knew it wasn't too late to turn back. He also knew he didn't want to. He knew he was going to hell. Ironically, the thought comforted him. He began to laugh, a horrible hollow cackling emanating from his raw vocal chords.
He took a step off the chair, the rope snapping back from the weight of the hanging body.
The body was found in the morning by the twins, who often made rounds at dawn, being the only members allowed some freedom. They adorned his mangled face with cyprus and hibiscus blossoms, scattering orchids on the ground.