A Self Imposed Hell
Copper.
The scent of blood.
Scarlet.
The color of the body's life.
Screams.
The source of pain.
Pain.
So much pain.
My pain. My self inflicted pain. I take the pain so others may never know it. It rips through my soul as ravishes my body. Leaving scars for all to see and those that are hidden. No one can ignore my scars. While only one mars my flesh, others are seen in plain sight. Some may tell you otherwise, but they are always their. Just like the blood. No one ever believes me. I tell them it is there. I see it on their robes, always fresh, always present. I ask them to remove it, but they still tell me its not there. I know its not there. Somewhere in my mind I know its not there. Still, I can see it. Under my fingernails, where, no matter how hard I scrub, no matter how raw my hands become, I can never seem to get rid of it. I know it's not real. But still, I can see it, I can smell it.
And the screams. They scream so loud. They never stop. Always asking for the pain to stop. For their pain to end. For our pain to stop. And then it's my pain. But it doesn't end. The screams bleed through and bleed together. Sometimes they are deafening me even to the pain. Again, they tell me it's not real. And again I know it's not real. Somewhere deep and forgotten, I know. I lost that somewhere long ago. And so, the screams remain.
They tell me I can stop any day. They beg me to stop. Even he begs me to stop. Who would ever guess that he would beg me to stop? I guess even he can see the scars. Even though though they beg me to stop, they hope at the same time that I don't. They know I'm the only source left. Maybe that's why he asks me to stop. He begs me more frequently and fervently then any other. Is it guilt? A sense that he could have prevented these scars, or at least taken some of the burden? We both know he could not have prevented this. He could not have prevented the screams and pain that drove me to these lengths.
I had had the flashes before. So we had studied. My progress was slow; this was my fault, and maybe his to some extent. This was only another source of his guilt. The lessons ended violently when I pried to deep into a past I did not have a right to delve into. Because I had not practice I lost the first. The first to hold. The first to heal. The first to love. I'm not so arrogant as to claim complete responsibility. But fault lay's in my lap. And so he fell. Never more and never again. The lessons started again and I dove into them recklessly, as well as all my studies, in an attempt to lose my self. And it worked. For a while at least. Then we fought, and I forgot to clear, forgot to shield.
She was no more then six, seven at the most. She had long curly brown hair and large, blue, innocent eyes. It was that innocence that hurt the most. When that innocence clouded over and her mind retreated before another. When she had taken up a kitchen knife and advanced on her parents. The knife descended. Quick and precise under the others will. Then the innocence returned, only to flee forever, as she stood over the empty shell of her parents. Covered in blood and holding the instrument of brutality. Then the other will took her attention, and committed her to worse then death. He asked her why. Why she would do such a thing to those who loved her? That question would send her over the edge. She then wielded the instrument of mortality against herself.
That was the moment. The Dark's greatest mistake. For that was the moment I broke. And with my breaking I poured my soul into the link. I turned that which I had learned to protect my mind, to hide in another's.
AN/ This hit me on a whim and based on reviews will either be a oneshot or the first chap of a new story. And it is official. My other stories are ABANDONED. I acted to early on them and now feel trapped to take them where I did not see them going. So ill mostly be doing oneshots and short stories consisting of a few chaps. So review and tell me if I should continue on. If some one wants my old stories, take. Just tell me and no slash. Review.