Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Depressing drabble from Mr. Lyle. Takes place after Miss Parker shoots him. If it seems out of character for him, I'm sorry. This is pretty much me just venting my feelings over finding out that those who I considered to be my best friends truly aren't.

A Portrait of Death

Water dripped off my jacket, which I should have abandoned along with the bullet proof vest after I was shot. The weight of them both had kept me from resurfacing when I wanted to. Which means I almost drowned. Parker would have loved that. I pulled myself up onto the creaky old wooden dock and ran a hand through my wet hair. Shrugging off the jacket, I unbuckled the vest that was around my torso and laid both items next to me. I shivered as a cold breeze found its way over the water and into my wet body. Parker was long gone, which was good. By tomorrow, they would all think I was dead. Which was what I wanted. I had the body all ready, sitting in an ice house only a fourth of a mile from my position. He had been a homeless man I picked up off the street. Don't know who he was or where he came from; I didn't really care. All that mattered was that he was the same body size as me. I needed to fool all prying eyes. Unless they did a DNA test, which was unlikely, they would never know it was some hobo instead of me. Leaning against one of the wooden piers, I looked out over the water and into the horizon. Some claim that they could tell the future by how the sun rose and fell. I just laughed at them. My future was as plain to me as it was to anyone else. It would be forever dictated to me by the powers that be. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts wander. With all this time on my hands (there was at least four hours 'til dawn), I figured I had time to contemplate. As soon as my mind was free to go, however, it took me down dark paths and dark thoughts I did not want to consider but was powerless to stop.

Have you ever wondered what people hide behind masked smiles? What they're not telling you? I've always wondered that. I've always wondered how friends could betray friends. But, I shouldn't be saying anything about that. My only true friend… well, he's lying in a grave with my name on it. Poetic, is in it? After him, I can't say I ever had any real friends. Only enemies. And boy, have I made a lot of those. Why? Where did it all go wrong? I've sat and watched people move about their daily lives; they're so normal. I'm anything but normal. Never known a normal anything. Well, that's not true. Until I was fifteen everything was normal. Life was fun. Life was great. Until certain people came and ruined it all. They took away all that I was and threw it to a pack of wolves. I'll never be the same again. Hatred. Anger. Despair. Death. Those are my friends now.

So, what did I do? What did I do after all was destroyed and I had to get out? I killed my best friend. One of life's many mysterious. How, for our own protection, we kill those we care about. What does it matter now, though? I've killed more people than I can count on all by fingers and toes. Am I happy to be like this? Would I change if I could? That's a hard question. But, then again, betrayal is always hard. I've picked up the pieces, however. I live what is left for me to live and not try to achieve too much in this life. A body of broken pieces all fused together in a mash that created a monster. My death will make everyone happy, but myself. So, I'll run. I'll run away and gather up my resources. They can't hide forever. They can't stay in that bubble of safety forever. Destroying is what I do now. It will always be what I do. And they will feel my wrath and they will weep.

My eyes snapped open as the darkness which had engulfed my mind lifted. I stared out at the stars and laughed. My laugh was hollow. Getting up, I started walking. There was a body that needed tweaking if it was to look at me. And I needed to get that done before this place crawled with sweepers. They would find the body, think it was me, and then go on with their merry lives. Me, well, I'd go hide and lick my wounds and come back stronger. For, I'd learned a deadly secret before I "died" and I knew how to use it to bring back the one thing the Centre wants most. Then they will welcome me back with open arms.