Kyo: This is the not-improved story
Reili: Yea... and the warnings are: language, self abuse, depression and all those other good things
Kyo: I don't own anything, I never will. Those who thought I did, may rot in hell.
Reili: This is a re-post because it seemed rather pointless to make two fics if they were the same story
Kyo: I don't give a damn if you review, but if you flame Reili will kill you and I'll sit back and watch.
Reili: Why me? Why not you? You're scarier.
Kyo: I'm not the one with a knife in my pencilcase or a corpse box. You'll be able to stash the body somewhere.
Reili: Whatever. Fine. In honor of late Ami day, here it is...
It'll go away, eventually
Here, in the black depths of the shadows. I am utterly lost on my own hatred. I am hopelessly drowning in my self pity. How sad is that? I am mourning in my own despair.
...Hopeless
...shameful ...worthless These words scream at me in disgust. I have no heart. Simple yet complex. All humans have a heart... however, I am not any human... nor am I human at all. If I was to thrust my claws and damagingly puncture my scarred chest. My bloody hand would emerge as empty as my soul. My blood gushing profusely out of me like a waterfall. Drowning my enemies, as well as myself.
There is no point in living if we all die in the end. The only reason I am here is to suffer. That is all I know. Pain. Fear. Hatred. I live off these emotions and these emotions alone. I haunt the shadows, the dreary blackness of it all. Yet at the same time I fear it. How, you may ask. Simple. To be swallowed by the blackness that's taken over me. To sink and never emerge. To be trapped, endure endless silence and eventually go mad.
To this world I am nothing. No one. I am just here to exist. To this world I am just another person. How simple minded you all are. You must never let your guard down, nor should you ever think things are always as they seem. I am not another pathetic human. I am just another demon. I hail from the devastation of the black realm. Where shadows conquer and control all. No light reaches the depths of the shadows. Souls of the impure stalk the empire as it their world. Water has never reached the surface if the dreaded terrain, instead blood from the decaying corpses flow freely among the dead bodies that spread about the domain. Their open mouths agape, their undead, white eyes stare blankly at you as you pass. Their deformed faces grimacing at you in pure disgust. It makes shivers go down your spine. The half decomposed bodies reek of dried blood, sweat and death itself. What mortals call Hell is nothing compared to this anguish.
The demented sovereign truly has no heart to spare (figuratively and physically). I know. I have suffered his horrendous wrath. As did many others, yet I am one of the very few survivors left. And several of them were never the same again. Such a pity. I remember perfectly how he made me endure the agony and torment he put me through. I wish for nothing more than to forget it yet it's hard to forget. Some days I can feel the cold, rusty nail slowly digging into my very own flesh. They kept pushing through my hand until it reached the blood covered wood behind it. I felt all my weight being dragged to the ground as if gravity increased itself, practically hanging from my hands. I remember the blood that flowed down from my hands; I can still hear each drop of blood hit the cold black ground. One after another, after another. I can feel the pain rush through my hands at the sheer memory of it. That's not even close to what happened next, the slight memory brings utter terror to my mind.
Why?
Why me?
Did I deserve it?
Was it because I wasn't worth their time? Because I wasn't good enough for them? I have questions that no one can answer, so what's the use of trying, no one cares about me... I'm worthless. Not significant enough. I am no one. Why am I here? I have nothing to gain. Nor anything to lose. Nothing to live for. So then why am I still here? There is nothing stopping me, but there is something urging me. Why can't I just die? I have no reason for existence. I make no difference in this world. Why should I live? If everything I know is pain and suffering. I've made others suffer and others have made me suffer. It's a pointless chain that in the end leads to nowhere; nothing is with point of any sort when it comes to life. Life is a cruel everlasting torture...unless you end it on your own.
A young man, looking the age of 17 was sitting alone in the corner of his hotel room. He was so closed off of the world around him. So deep in thought, he didn't notice a figure quietly check on the demon.
The boy was tearing apart at the slightest memories being brought up. He slowly took off his silk gloves. The lithe figure of the youth shifted uncomfortably, so that his head rested against the walls that protect him from the outside world. As he did so his long smooth, black hair which was tied up in a wrap swung from one shoulder to the other. His golden eyes leisurely opened as he finished taking off the gloves. There he stared at the brutal scars of his past. The scars that once were hidden from the world, finally revealed. The young man suddenly held on to his hands as if they were about to fall off. Tears threatened to spill. His face was scowling in pain. His mind was screaming in pain, but his pride yelled no.
...Why?
...why me? ...what's the use of trying? ...if all we do is suffer. ...if life is all about pain. ...if all roads lead to failure. ...if in the end there is no point. ...why bother trying? ...if I've already given up. ...if I'm already dead.