The taste of death.
When I was born, it was poison that I had suckled from my mother's breast. The blood around me made me tremble with excitement. The electricity that surged through my veins kept me alive in that miserable hell.
Yet I have to admit, I had quite some fun.
The sensation of flesh being ripped apart, the feeling of having held a beating heart. The way I could decide who to kill and who to spare became addicting-Playing God.
Playing master, playing lord. Playing hero, playing villain. Playing angel, playing demon.
I miss it.
The sound of death. The screams of agony. The grunts of pain. And being in control. I miss it all. The feeling of reining above it all.
And I remember, and I linger in those memories.
That was one part of my past I couldn't get over with. The pain. The electricity that surged through my entire body every single day of torture, the whip that went across my back that left scars that would never heal.
They pull me back to my lonely, sad world. Back up there in Kukuru. And I would never be able to let go of it. Not until the scars disappear. The scars on my back, and the scars that remain in my soul.
Twelve years of infinite pain. Hurtful tears that will flood my future. Sorrowful colors that will paint my life. My aching heart will continue to bleed. And it will continue to be like that until I finally leave this world.
This painful world full of misery.
But what can I do? I am the inhabitant of darkness, an angel of death. The bringer of doom. So for me, twelve years of pain wouldn't matter as much. Because I have gotten used to the pain, the burden, the tears, the sorrow.
Twelve years of pain, they are very memorable to me. Because in those twelve years I have learned how to live, how to die.
I have learned not to regret my past, and learn from it instead.
Twelve years of pain
had taught me that much.