Hi guys! This is ShatteredGreen, and I'm proud to publish my first story! *Disclaimer! I do not own any of the characters in this story-that credit goes to Hiro Mashima. Please review!*

A soft glow; a whisper of a laugh. Darkened hues distort colors once seen with clarity.

Quiet. Reserved. Loner. Solitude is bliss. I am not depressed, or lacking. I am merely accepting myself for what I am.

Cheery laughter. Twinkling eyes. Bright smiles. Once, long ago, I surrounded myself with them. Now, I cherish the deafening noise of silence.

The outside world and the people who traverse there do not frighten me. Rather, it is the demon within myself, which I am wary of.

Knock, knock, knock. I raise my head, my eyes sharpening as if to see through the door. Wary as a deer, I approach the door, my footsteps a quiet kiss on the wooden floor.

Crack. The door shivers open. Light hesitantly enters my domain, lighting the murky gloom.

Creak. I could leave now if I wanted to. DO IT, the beast within hisses. Struggling to maintain my stoic composure, I look to see who-or what-disturbed my descent to the agonizing bliss of meditation.

Nothing. Nothing is here. This was merely a prank. Choking back silent tears, I turn to close the door. 'Why', I think. 'What have I done in a past life to earn such a burden?' Fat tears slowly roll down my cheeks, as I sit in the threshold of the open door, my back against the doorframe, curling into a ball, hair shadowing my face.

Eyes cracking open, adjusting to the light, I turn to my left, only to a see a small box with a note on it. A gift? The beast thinks, perhaps the ticket to my next awakening, he cackled. Resigned, I tentatively open the note with shaking hands, and read.

I know you live here, the note reads.

I don't know your name, but I hear whispers. Whispers of the boy who shies away from the world like a frightened deer. Whispers of the recluse who is so quiet, he goes unnoticed by all, if not for the disturbance of delivery people.

They describe untamed raven hair, sharp red eyes, a delicate nose and an angular face. They describe skin pale as the full moon, a smile as bright as the sun, and long ago, a laugh that would cause even the most bitter to forget their sorrows and smile. Long ago, they say. A rumbling voice. A kind heart. Joyous laughter. Childish humor that offended no one, and included everyone in the fun.

They whisper of pain. Terror. Darkness. Shadow.

I can sense it. The fear that arises like a thundering storm when you are brought up. Or more correctly said, the fear that arises because of the beast within you. Up until this point, I had calmed down; however, I can feel my heartbeat picking up, my eyes widening, and my breath beginning to come short and fast.

An internal conflict arises within me. If I keep reading, will this mysterious, kind soul describe the catastrophic events which aroused nightmares that trick me into a gentle doze, only to paralyze me with the same fear and terror I had caused long ago.

I don't know what happened to change you, long ago, the note reads, and nor do I care.

At this, I begin to calm. My face adopts a passive, stoic expression, eyes reflecting little but the light and the words on the page.

I don't know your name. Those that do are dead, long gone, or have frustratingly shut their mouths on this matter.

However… I can sense deep loneliness, trepidation, and fear within you. The beast within does not define you. Everyone has his or her own demons to conquer… Even so, yours is far more dangerous by comparison.

Acknowledge this fact: your soul is pure with intentions of good, only tainted by the murky depths that hardly restrain your demon.

The demon is silent.

You seek help. Please, let me.

I stare at the paper, confused.

How does this person know what I seek? How can this person glean the truth of people's inner thoughts?

These questions race through my head, only serving to add to my bewilderment. In an attempt to rid myself of confusion, I sigh and shake my head, slightly tousling my hair.

As I stop shaking my head, my gaze lands on the box, and I remember that I've yet to open it, and discover the contents within.

I open the box, only to find books, movies, and several packets of food within.

In an instant, I'm on the ground, seeing white and feeling ice seep through my veins.

Why would anyone go to such lengths for you, the beast sneers.

I clench my eyes shut, grit my teeth, and begin the internal conflict with the beast.

'Go away, beast,' I growl. 'Slink back into your corner; I've bested you before I can do it again!'

The beast begins laughing, a cruel, stony sound. Perhaps. Instilling fear in you is enough… for now…

I feel him recede within the deeper recesses of my soul, and begin focusing on steadying my breath, wondering what was I doing before falling to the ground.

I look down and see the note, and remember there's still more to read. I feel a phantom, looking over my shoulder, and I know it is the beast. He is just as curious as I, in regards to this stranger. Perhaps he isn't the evil, vile creature I think he is, as we share similar natures… Even so, I know he is simply the darker side of my nature, and I must bear with the troubles he causes. This is my burden, and mine alone.

With this realization, I become more wary.

I am hesitant; why does this stranger want to help me? How can they help, if they don't clearly know what happened to make me… Make me… This broken, shattered crippled thing that I am. A monster, you mean, the beast chuckles with hollow laughter. Yet I feel sorrow coming from him, a repentance of sorts. Silently, I accept it, as this is the closest thing to an apology I will ever get.

Suddenly realizing how dangerously close the beast is taking over, I grab the mysterious box and note, and cross the threshold back into my domain. Shutting the door quietly behind me, I lean against it, and slide down to the floor, cradling the box in my lap, the note loosely held by my hands.

Even if this person wanted to help, how could they? They've left no trace of whom they are, nothing I can use to find them. Stifling tears of frustration and loss, I return my attention to the box. Upon closer inspection, inside is more home cooked food, music albums, and a teddy bear, strangely enough. As I began to ponder over the strangeness of it all, to my bewilderment, there came a small rapping from the door to the outside.

I freeze, fearful that if I open the door, the beast will take over again, and so soon since the last time he nearly took over… I don't know if I can stop him from unleashing his rage on the unsuspecting world… Yet I am also curious as to whom it is. Is it the mysterious benefactor? Could it be?

My heart begins to beat faster, filling with hope. Perhaps today is the day. The day which I overcome the beast, and finally flush my demons out.

I slowly stand up, moving the box and note away from the door. Trembling with anticipation and hope, I open the door, silently praying. 'If there is a god up there, please hear me now. I have been abandoned once, please, let me live again! Not as the beast, but please, let me learn to be whole again.'

Creak... The door is open again, and light washes in.

I see golden sunshine hair, chocolate brown eyes and a smile that takes my breath away. I forget how to speak, and hear nothing, yet her lips say, "Hello old friend, it's me, Lucy."

She smiles warmly, and the corners of her eyes crinkle just the slightest bit. I smile widely, tears filling my eyes, and I hug her, grasping her tightly…

My eyes jump open as I sit up, inhaling and exhaling air quickly.

I look around, hoping, begging, pleading for some sign that it was real.

It could not have been just a dream.

I curl up into a ball on my bed, the covers now pulled over my head. My head resting on my knees, I let out a low, mournful wail. My wild hair glides over my arms, feather-light. Tears run from my eyes, large, hot, blinding tears. They roll down my cheeks and onto my knees, slowly soaking the fabric of my pants. I let out quick, shallow breaths, but the tears won't stop. My shoulders shake; my body trembles, and my voice continues its deep, soft song. The timbre of my voice gives it sad, mangled tune.

Pulling the covers off, I slowly climb out of the bed, my eyes covered by my hair, hiding my tears. Your tears are hidden in your physical appearance, but your soul says different things. Stumbling into the bathroom, I look up into the mirror, rolling my shoulders.

In the reflection, I see wild hair, pale skin enunciated by the tear streaks on my cheeks and the landscape that is my face. My raven hair sits tousled and untamed, framing deep pools of dark crimson melancholy.

I continue to sob, unable to stifle the tears this time, and after I blink, I see a small, coal-black dragon resting on my left shoulder, its tail curled over my right shoulder. With ruby stars for eyes, it looks at me directly in the eyes, and suddenly I understand. All along, I have fought this little dragon. This little beast. My little demon.

All along, he had tried to help me find my way, but I was too stubborn to listen to reason, and this had unleashed a part of myself, not the dragon, which I had locked away, to keep everyone else safe.

Since I couldn't accept this fact, I blamed it on him. Since then, I had forgotten what it meant to be human. Losing what makes me human has made it impossible for me to return.

This little dragon, whose name sits upon the tip of my tongue like a forgotten word, has tried to help me. Yet, since I was blinded so much by my own faults, I hadn't listened.

I hadn't listened and lost my humanity.

I hadn't listened, and lost her. She who mattered the most.

This descent into madness could have been prevented.

The madness caused by losing her, Lucy, my love, whom I can never see again.

I have lost her forever, lost her to the void of the unknown. The afterlife.

Death had claimed her, that day, many years ago, when I lost my humanity.

All these years I've fought my little dragon have all been for naught.

Why? Why must this happen?

Was it really just a dream?