You're such a piece of shit, Almasy.
The sorceress' lapdog.
A traitor.
You're filth, a waste of perfectly good oxygen.
Pathetic.
Why bother living.......
Why bother living?
Why bother.....
Words ran like poison through Seifer's head, every hurtful syllable seared into his memory like a white hot knife cutting into soft pale underbelly, over and over and over and over again.
Piece of shit. That's what I am. They're right when they say it. What the hell good did I ever do anyone? Maybe I should just end it all. It'd be so easy.....
He rocked back and forth in the fetid darkness, surrounded by the acrid, pungent stench of alcohol. His ears heard only the scuttling of unseen vermin in shadowy corners, his fingers felt only the dirt and grime of a rock hard mattress. Cold and hard. Like everything else he knew.
So easy.....
No more people spitting at me in the streets. No more hateful words being flung at my face. No more merciless blows in the back of dark, filthy alleys. No more watching the scars bleed bleed bleed as they burn my skin.
He bit his bottom lip to stifle a whimper, sharp white teeth sinking into dry, cracked skin.
It hurts. It stings. It burns. I'm bleeding again. Please stop hurting.....
He bit down harder.
I've done so many things, so many bad things. I deserve to die. I deserve to bleed. I deserve to beaten, again and again and again. I'm exactly what they say I am. Dirt. Filth. Garbage. I don't want to be here anymore.
Outside, an old streetlight flickered. A chilly autumn wind scattered dried leaves across the bare pavement. The scratching of dead leaves on cement made sounds like that of a helpless animal, clawing on a cage with the gusting wind whispering cold promises of release.
I don't want to know what I've done.
I don't want to see their screaming faces, pointed fingers, hateful eyes.
I don't want to see them yelling out names and raining down blows because they see me for what I really am.
I don't want to dream of blood on my hands.
I don't want to see blank, cold faces everytime I close my eyes.
I don't want to see the charred bodies, the strewn limbs, the splattered entrails.
I don't want to wake up screaming anymore.
A rat scampered out from its murky hiding place to scratch at a stray wrapper, sniffing the crinkly aluminum foil for any crumbled remains.
I don't want this.....anymore..........
A rusty faucet drip drip dripped into the dingy sink it hung over, grime and mold starting to collect in the drain.
.............no more...........
Outside, the streetlight flickered and died.
The sorceress' lapdog.
A traitor.
You're filth, a waste of perfectly good oxygen.
Pathetic.
Why bother living.......
Why bother living?
Why bother.....
Words ran like poison through Seifer's head, every hurtful syllable seared into his memory like a white hot knife cutting into soft pale underbelly, over and over and over and over again.
Piece of shit. That's what I am. They're right when they say it. What the hell good did I ever do anyone? Maybe I should just end it all. It'd be so easy.....
He rocked back and forth in the fetid darkness, surrounded by the acrid, pungent stench of alcohol. His ears heard only the scuttling of unseen vermin in shadowy corners, his fingers felt only the dirt and grime of a rock hard mattress. Cold and hard. Like everything else he knew.
So easy.....
No more people spitting at me in the streets. No more hateful words being flung at my face. No more merciless blows in the back of dark, filthy alleys. No more watching the scars bleed bleed bleed as they burn my skin.
He bit his bottom lip to stifle a whimper, sharp white teeth sinking into dry, cracked skin.
It hurts. It stings. It burns. I'm bleeding again. Please stop hurting.....
He bit down harder.
I've done so many things, so many bad things. I deserve to die. I deserve to bleed. I deserve to beaten, again and again and again. I'm exactly what they say I am. Dirt. Filth. Garbage. I don't want to be here anymore.
Outside, an old streetlight flickered. A chilly autumn wind scattered dried leaves across the bare pavement. The scratching of dead leaves on cement made sounds like that of a helpless animal, clawing on a cage with the gusting wind whispering cold promises of release.
I don't want to know what I've done.
I don't want to see their screaming faces, pointed fingers, hateful eyes.
I don't want to see them yelling out names and raining down blows because they see me for what I really am.
I don't want to dream of blood on my hands.
I don't want to see blank, cold faces everytime I close my eyes.
I don't want to see the charred bodies, the strewn limbs, the splattered entrails.
I don't want to wake up screaming anymore.
A rat scampered out from its murky hiding place to scratch at a stray wrapper, sniffing the crinkly aluminum foil for any crumbled remains.
I don't want this.....anymore..........
A rusty faucet drip drip dripped into the dingy sink it hung over, grime and mold starting to collect in the drain.
.............no more...........
Outside, the streetlight flickered and died.