Disclaimer: Dogs: Bullets & Carnage belongs to Miwa Shirow. Not me. TTATT
Summary: He's already forgotten the beginning and the end is still nowhere in sight.
Warnings: I suppose mild language?
Comment: I have no idea why I write angst so much :X
Now
Haine is like fire; he burns and blisters and stews red hot - anger spilling out, overflowing and destroying everything in his path, leaving charred remains behind. The beast in him howls whenever he kills – it has no morals, just pure, animalistic instinct – intoxicated by the stench of death and destruction, until he reins it in and locks it back in its cage (it gets harder every time).
He isn't one to mull over the past, his earliest memories are those of Lily and stark white and red, red blood (what have I done?), and he's buried those a long time ago in the back of his mind.
Sometimes, in a bout of uncharacteristic angst, he thinks he's been broken, cracked into a million tiny pieces by that horrid bitch (mother), precariously glued and held together by his anger and thirst for vengeance, and he wonders what will happen when all of this is over and nothing's there to hold the pieces of him together anymore. He dreams about happiness and things he doesn't understand and has nightmares of falling apart.
But he isn't so disillusioned or desperate as to believe in (or care enough to fear) something as fickle and intangible as the future. All he knows how to do is to grab the present with both his hands and bare teeth and hold on with all he's got.
Haine lives in the present because that's all he can afford to live for, to care for – and he really does care, even if he doesn't want to admit it. Watching Badou teach Nil how to sew; bickering with Naoto; Bishop's dry, caustic remarks – sometimes he feels like happiness isn't so far removed from his black, black world (something he isn't supposed to have – to know), in those little moments between death and destruction.
And, really, there are times when he feels like saying, "fuck it all", and watch it all just burnburnburn because he's already forgotten the beginning and the end is still nowhere in sight, and even Haine feels tired of bloodshed and world weary sometimes (the bastards just keep coming).
But he remembers there isn't any room in this goddamned war for doubts, so Haine shuts out his thoughts and blindly pushes forward, clutching the present desperately in his blood stained hands.