Kiriska: Alright. Here's the deal. This is a rewrite of the first chapter, which really, really sucked because I wrote it two years ago when I started this story. And actually, I don't really like the rewrite of this chapter either, but it was better than the first one, so I'll have it up. However. The chapters after this, up til like chapter twenty or something, all equally sucked, and I have no energy to even attempt to rewrite them all, so here I am warning you. The quality of some of these chapters are simply atrocious and put me to shame, as do their crappy titles, but I promise it gets better. The quality does eventually improve, and I'm quite proud of the final dozen or so chapters. So here's the warning for anyone that's just starting this story. It is quite unrealistic, quite stupid in multiple ways, quite emotional, quite unnessicarily bloody and grotesque, and quite frusterating at times. Whether or not it's worth it in the end, you'll just have to see, huh? (Oh yeah...I deleted two chapters because they were completely pointless, unfortunately, they were early on in the story and thus I had to freaking renumber all the chapters after that, so if some of it is off, sorry. . Plus, I deleted a lot of the commentary on the first couple of chapters because they were also stupid, so the commentary just sort of pops back up around chapter fifteen or so. Yeah....)
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The Homicidal Maniac
By: Kiriska
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Chapter One: Lurid Disturbance
Taichi
Shock is not powerful enough a world to describe what I felt. I was disturbed, paralyzed, overwhelmed, stupefied, stunned. No, those words were not strong enough either. I was in a state of incredible disbelief and horror, standing there at the hospital bed. You always figure these sort of things happen to someone else. But the problem with that is that you are someone else...to someone else. No one expects one of their friends to die so suddenly. In the middle of the week, with absolutely no warning, for absolutely no reason. Takeru is dead. Dead. Deceased. He will never be alive again. It was unreal, and I kept expecting myself to wake up. But it's been hours, and I was still awake. This was real. Not a twisted fantasy fed to me by my mind. This was real. Takeru is dead.
No one deserved to die less than TK; he had never done anything to hurt anyone. So why? Why did he lay dead and covered in blood on the alabaster sheets? Blood, so much red, sticky, grotesque blood. The fact that he was gone was bad enough; the fact that he had been murdered made it that much worse. If he had been hit by a car, perhaps I wouldn't have felt so stricken, but he hadn't been. It hadn't been an accident. Someone had intentionally taken his life. Someone had purposely killed an angel. Why? I could not think of one reason anyone could ever think of to kill him. Not one. TK did not deserve to die. So why did he lay, a mutilated corpse, on the hospital bed?
One arm was missing, leaving nothing but a bare stub at the left shoulder. The skin was pale, drained of blood and life, as white as the sheets he lay on. We stood there, crowded around the cot, crying. Grieving. Yamato sat aside in a small chair, glaring coldly at his brother. No emotion crossed his stone face; his azure eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking. How did he feel? He had lost his little brother, the person he had strived over and over again to protect was now gone. How would it feel? I did not want to know, the thought in itself was horrible enough. I did not want to know. Poor Matt. He was closer to TK than anyone else, he would be affected the most. He would feel the most pain.
But that wasn't to say that the rest of us would miss Takeru. My own sibling knelt by the bed, tears streaming in an endless river down her cheeks; her eyes red from them. She trembled, holding on to the Keeper of Hope's remaining hand, clutching it tightly, as if holding it would bring him back. Her sobs were the loudest of them all, almost hysterical. She had been the one to answer the phone this afternoon. Kari had been the one to receive the news first when Mrs.Takaishi called. Her eyes had not been dry since then. She was perhaps second closest the to deceased. I stood beside her, hand on her shoulder, hopelessly trying to comfort her. But it was hard to give comfort when you could not find it yourself.
Whoever had killed TK was still out there...they did not know who had done it, or anything at all. His murderer was still at large, and that was not a comfortable feeling. I wanted the bastard caught, whoever he was, and at the very least jailed for life. I wanted to know why he had killed...why. I wanted to know a million things, and so did everyone else. But who was going to provide answers? Who was going to tell? Who even knew? I glanced again at my friend's body. His arm was scarred with a dozen cuts, pink against his chalk-white skin. What kind of torture did he go through before he was killed? What kind of torment did that sick bastard put him through? It had been a knife wound that had killed him, according to the nurse. Takeru's death had been slow.
So why hadn't they found him sooner? If he wasn't dead when they found him why couldn't they save him? Why?! With all the technology these days, couldn't they have done something for him? It wasn't fair. They saved all sorts of psychos off the streets and made their lives as happy as could be. But when someone comes in really in need of help, they don't do anything. Hikari's wails got worse as time passed, as if she was still only realizing that our friend was gone. I stepped back a bit, unnerved by the tears. I don't know, they bothered me. They reminded me of how wrong this whole situation was. They reminded me of how imperfect the world was. All those times we ran around in the Digiworld, that had been dangerous. We could have been killed a thousands times, but we lived. We had been living in a world of monsters and demons, but we lived. And now here, we are, home. Supposedly safe back within our own world. And what happens?
Sora knelt down beside my sister, crying with her, comforting her for me. Her own face was streaked with a thousand tears, an endless river of grief and despair. She hugged Kari, spoke to her, told her that things would be alright. Did anyone believe that they would? If the killer is still loose then who else might die? Who else would loose their brother or sister? Who else would loose a friend? A son, a daughter, a cousin? Koushirou leaned against the wall beside me, wiping a flood from his eyes. We said nothing to each other. I could not speak for him, but I doubted I could talk anyway. My voice had died and a massive lump sat in my throat, unwilling to move. Everyone was silent in voice, but I bet every one of their heads were exploding with questions wanting to be answered.
Where was TK now? His spirit, his life, where was it? Heaven? Mimi started for the door, the rest of us shifted our gazes to look at her. "I..I...can't look at him anymore...." she whispered to no one in particular and walked out of the room. I returned my gaze to Yamato's little brother. He looked like a phantom, an image out of a horror movie, so unreal. His drained, colorless face looked like make-up, and for a moment, I believed that he was still alive. But his arm...his arm destroyed that hope. The bandaged stub, dyed crimson with blood, covering up the broken bone and tore muscle that had connected an arm to the shoulder. The arm had obvious been removed by the doctors, to make it look cleaner I suppose. But if their intention was for it to look less painful, then they had undoubtly failed.
The missing arm made me think about how bad it must have been before they removed it. How horrific had the scene been? Where had he been when he died? How badly injured had that arm been? A thousand images floated to my head. A mutilated limb dangling from my friend's shoulder. I shuddered. I was going to give myself nightmares. God, nightmares, how was I going to sleep tonight? How was I going to sleep knowing that there was a murderer out there? The murderer who had taken Takeru's life. How was Kari going to sleep? Her imagination was better than mine, and at a time like this that is a very, very bad thing. I hated to think of what things were being twisted around in her head.
Joe moved from his spot against the wall and headed for the exit as well. He said nothing. It didn't matter though, he was right. There was no point in staying really. Staying wasn't bringing anyone back to life. Staying wasn't making anyone feel better. So...why stay? As if to confirm that, Sora's mother came into the room. The parents had been outside, speaking with the doctors, nurses, and police. "Sora? Come on honey, lets go home. There's nothing you can do here." The Keeper of Love stood up, nodding quietly. We all started to leave. At the door Kari turned back to Takeru's still body, the newest flood of tears being held back with much difficulty. I glanced at Matt. He had already been here when we arrived. And he hadn't said a word nor moved an inch during the whole time we were there. Now as we left, he still did not move.
I saw his parents outside, they were speaking with the nurses in low voices. I looked back one last time as my own parents and sister started down the hall. Yamato looked up at me briefly, I was startled. His eyes held a piercing, hateful gaze unlike any I've ever seen. It was creepy. And it was gone in a moment, the blue glazed over again and was a cold gray, emotionless. I left, walking slowly and taking my time catching up with my parents. Takeru was dead. Takeru was now an angel, free of this crazy world. At least he was relieved of the pain his injuries must have caused him. At least he wasn't suffering anymore. Takeru was dead. Dead is such an overused word. Waking up this morning I would have never guessed it. Even now I didn't know if I believed it. It could just be a really long...really realistic...really horrific...nightmare. It could be...I hoped it was, I wished it was. I knew it wasn't.
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The Homicidal Maniac
By: Kiriska
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.
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.
.
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Chapter One: Lurid Disturbance
Taichi
Shock is not powerful enough a world to describe what I felt. I was disturbed, paralyzed, overwhelmed, stupefied, stunned. No, those words were not strong enough either. I was in a state of incredible disbelief and horror, standing there at the hospital bed. You always figure these sort of things happen to someone else. But the problem with that is that you are someone else...to someone else. No one expects one of their friends to die so suddenly. In the middle of the week, with absolutely no warning, for absolutely no reason. Takeru is dead. Dead. Deceased. He will never be alive again. It was unreal, and I kept expecting myself to wake up. But it's been hours, and I was still awake. This was real. Not a twisted fantasy fed to me by my mind. This was real. Takeru is dead.
No one deserved to die less than TK; he had never done anything to hurt anyone. So why? Why did he lay dead and covered in blood on the alabaster sheets? Blood, so much red, sticky, grotesque blood. The fact that he was gone was bad enough; the fact that he had been murdered made it that much worse. If he had been hit by a car, perhaps I wouldn't have felt so stricken, but he hadn't been. It hadn't been an accident. Someone had intentionally taken his life. Someone had purposely killed an angel. Why? I could not think of one reason anyone could ever think of to kill him. Not one. TK did not deserve to die. So why did he lay, a mutilated corpse, on the hospital bed?
One arm was missing, leaving nothing but a bare stub at the left shoulder. The skin was pale, drained of blood and life, as white as the sheets he lay on. We stood there, crowded around the cot, crying. Grieving. Yamato sat aside in a small chair, glaring coldly at his brother. No emotion crossed his stone face; his azure eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking. How did he feel? He had lost his little brother, the person he had strived over and over again to protect was now gone. How would it feel? I did not want to know, the thought in itself was horrible enough. I did not want to know. Poor Matt. He was closer to TK than anyone else, he would be affected the most. He would feel the most pain.
But that wasn't to say that the rest of us would miss Takeru. My own sibling knelt by the bed, tears streaming in an endless river down her cheeks; her eyes red from them. She trembled, holding on to the Keeper of Hope's remaining hand, clutching it tightly, as if holding it would bring him back. Her sobs were the loudest of them all, almost hysterical. She had been the one to answer the phone this afternoon. Kari had been the one to receive the news first when Mrs.Takaishi called. Her eyes had not been dry since then. She was perhaps second closest the to deceased. I stood beside her, hand on her shoulder, hopelessly trying to comfort her. But it was hard to give comfort when you could not find it yourself.
Whoever had killed TK was still out there...they did not know who had done it, or anything at all. His murderer was still at large, and that was not a comfortable feeling. I wanted the bastard caught, whoever he was, and at the very least jailed for life. I wanted to know why he had killed...why. I wanted to know a million things, and so did everyone else. But who was going to provide answers? Who was going to tell? Who even knew? I glanced again at my friend's body. His arm was scarred with a dozen cuts, pink against his chalk-white skin. What kind of torture did he go through before he was killed? What kind of torment did that sick bastard put him through? It had been a knife wound that had killed him, according to the nurse. Takeru's death had been slow.
So why hadn't they found him sooner? If he wasn't dead when they found him why couldn't they save him? Why?! With all the technology these days, couldn't they have done something for him? It wasn't fair. They saved all sorts of psychos off the streets and made their lives as happy as could be. But when someone comes in really in need of help, they don't do anything. Hikari's wails got worse as time passed, as if she was still only realizing that our friend was gone. I stepped back a bit, unnerved by the tears. I don't know, they bothered me. They reminded me of how wrong this whole situation was. They reminded me of how imperfect the world was. All those times we ran around in the Digiworld, that had been dangerous. We could have been killed a thousands times, but we lived. We had been living in a world of monsters and demons, but we lived. And now here, we are, home. Supposedly safe back within our own world. And what happens?
Sora knelt down beside my sister, crying with her, comforting her for me. Her own face was streaked with a thousand tears, an endless river of grief and despair. She hugged Kari, spoke to her, told her that things would be alright. Did anyone believe that they would? If the killer is still loose then who else might die? Who else would loose their brother or sister? Who else would loose a friend? A son, a daughter, a cousin? Koushirou leaned against the wall beside me, wiping a flood from his eyes. We said nothing to each other. I could not speak for him, but I doubted I could talk anyway. My voice had died and a massive lump sat in my throat, unwilling to move. Everyone was silent in voice, but I bet every one of their heads were exploding with questions wanting to be answered.
Where was TK now? His spirit, his life, where was it? Heaven? Mimi started for the door, the rest of us shifted our gazes to look at her. "I..I...can't look at him anymore...." she whispered to no one in particular and walked out of the room. I returned my gaze to Yamato's little brother. He looked like a phantom, an image out of a horror movie, so unreal. His drained, colorless face looked like make-up, and for a moment, I believed that he was still alive. But his arm...his arm destroyed that hope. The bandaged stub, dyed crimson with blood, covering up the broken bone and tore muscle that had connected an arm to the shoulder. The arm had obvious been removed by the doctors, to make it look cleaner I suppose. But if their intention was for it to look less painful, then they had undoubtly failed.
The missing arm made me think about how bad it must have been before they removed it. How horrific had the scene been? Where had he been when he died? How badly injured had that arm been? A thousand images floated to my head. A mutilated limb dangling from my friend's shoulder. I shuddered. I was going to give myself nightmares. God, nightmares, how was I going to sleep tonight? How was I going to sleep knowing that there was a murderer out there? The murderer who had taken Takeru's life. How was Kari going to sleep? Her imagination was better than mine, and at a time like this that is a very, very bad thing. I hated to think of what things were being twisted around in her head.
Joe moved from his spot against the wall and headed for the exit as well. He said nothing. It didn't matter though, he was right. There was no point in staying really. Staying wasn't bringing anyone back to life. Staying wasn't making anyone feel better. So...why stay? As if to confirm that, Sora's mother came into the room. The parents had been outside, speaking with the doctors, nurses, and police. "Sora? Come on honey, lets go home. There's nothing you can do here." The Keeper of Love stood up, nodding quietly. We all started to leave. At the door Kari turned back to Takeru's still body, the newest flood of tears being held back with much difficulty. I glanced at Matt. He had already been here when we arrived. And he hadn't said a word nor moved an inch during the whole time we were there. Now as we left, he still did not move.
I saw his parents outside, they were speaking with the nurses in low voices. I looked back one last time as my own parents and sister started down the hall. Yamato looked up at me briefly, I was startled. His eyes held a piercing, hateful gaze unlike any I've ever seen. It was creepy. And it was gone in a moment, the blue glazed over again and was a cold gray, emotionless. I left, walking slowly and taking my time catching up with my parents. Takeru was dead. Takeru was now an angel, free of this crazy world. At least he was relieved of the pain his injuries must have caused him. At least he wasn't suffering anymore. Takeru was dead. Dead is such an overused word. Waking up this morning I would have never guessed it. Even now I didn't know if I believed it. It could just be a really long...really realistic...really horrific...nightmare. It could be...I hoped it was, I wished it was. I knew it wasn't.
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