Love in Agony
Chapter One:
Solace in Suicide-
Darkness. At times, it seems that it's the only thing one can experience. An eclipsed star, waiting to shine. Like an everlasting void, it can always seem infinite. But what is the infinite? Why is the infinite? That is the question wondered by so many, though only muttered by so few. The chthonic monster which waits in the frozen temple of your mind. The never-ending shadow that lingers over the form of your being, waiting for it's time to finally consume you.
Why?
The answer is simple.
Fear
The fear of never knowing the beginning of the end. The fear of never understanding the true meaning of life on earth. Whether it be good, or bad. The fear of being left behind by those you trusted. The fear of losing those you love over something you could not have stopped. The fear of never knowing whether or not your torment would EVER end. The realization that you could never love again. The fear of the fact that you know you could never risk letting people in again. Knowing that you would only lose them when it all came down to the final play. The shadows of your mind forcing you to believe that you are nothing, and will always be nothing.
That is true darkness. The true infinite. Like the fallen Mourning Star, you know that when judgement comes. You will not be spared. Your sins will carve a crimson path of loss, you will NEVER be good enough. You will NEVER be normal. Your demons will follow you and with them, Hell. You know it. You feel it. Your will is only hanging on by a thread, and you know it will give in soon. So why fight the darkness you yourself created. Call me the seed of evil, but what does that mean if I was concieved within your mind?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
"-AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Deep breaths and labored breathing filled the isolated room, quickly followed by silent tears and sobs as moonlight gently lit the area through a single window. Slowly shifting on a bed comprised of black velvet sheets and satin covers a young man gently placed his feet on the cold hardwood floor. With hitching breaths and tear trails along his cheeks, he scanned the room, left to right. He saw his desk with nic-nacks and what-nots spread randomly on its circular like top. His eyes drifted to his dresser, victorian in style and beside it a very old Grandfather Clock. A family Heir-loom passed down through the generations. Checking behind him, his eyes drifted to a bedside table, on it an alarm clock, reading 3:00 A.M. and a framed picture, covered in a thin layer of dust. Obviously not touched for quite sometime. The picture itself had shown a young boy with closed eyes, smiling a bright toothy smile with black hair that reached shoulder length, somewhat unkempt and a little messy. Standing behind him, a beautiful young woman wearing a rather expensive looking dress, a kind smile graced her features. Blessed with natural beauty she had no need for make-up, showing off her flawless form many women would die for. And to their left stood tall a man with a proud smile on his face, sharp features and war scars aside. He wore a three piece tuxedo, with black as the primary choice of color, and red as a secondary trim along the collar and dress shirt underneath.
A happy family by all means, though he only cried more. Eventually, the tears stopped, though the pain still remained, as it always has. The pain of knowing what loss feels like. A feeling he wished he never had to experience. He knew he couldn't go back to sleep, his thoughts wouldn't allow him to. So he merely stood from the bed, the light of the moon shining upon his features. Long silky black hair. A chisled muscular body, and sharp handsome features. Hollow eyes reflected by the internal pain he's felt for so long. Scars riddled his body. His arms, his chest, legs, and even one across his neck. All of which appeared to be self-inflicted. He slowly truged his way out of his room, and into the dimly lit hall decorated only by wall mounted lamps and extravagant wallpaper, though from the looks of things it seems as if it was left uncared for. Slowly making his way to the bathroom, he entered and turned the light on, blinding him only for a few seconds until his eyes adjusted to the new setting. Slowly walking towards a rack on the wall, he grabbed a towel and drapped it over the curtain rail of his rather large shower and turned on the faucet. Behind him he turned to face a mirror, though just as everything so far, it was not in a good condition. Spider-webbed cracks adorned the glass spiraling out from the epicenter of the reflective surface. Anyone with eyes could see that he himself had been the cause for it, if the cuts on his right hand gave away any indication. A low snarl escaped his lips as he stared at himself through the distorted glass. He hated himself, more than anything in this world. With the lights on within the bathroom, he got a better look at himself.
He stood there shirtless looking over his own form, disgusted by what he had to see on a daily basis. He started with his eyes. An odd combination they are. Heterochromic in nature, his right eye was pitch black leaving only the whites of his eye to show that it was indeed real, his left eye was crimson red, but what he hated the most was the mark that was within the pupil. Just looking at it reminded him of his own incompentency. Slowly, forgotten memories began to resurface.
The screams. The blood-curtailing screams of his parents. The frozen expression of ever growing terror and fear gracing the once content and happy features of both his mother and father. The blood that stained his very hands, the pleas and cries of his parents, begging to spare their beloved son. The maniacal sardonic laughter that echoed within his mind. The feeling of intense pressure as the form realeased his power on his defensless family, all for the sake of the thrill. The cries of agony and dread as he watched his parents be slaughtered by this un-godly thing infront of him. The look in his mothers eyes when she told him to run.
He broke. He remembered everything he tried so hard to forget. The endless running, hearig his mothers pleas and begs be silenced as he ran away from the forest. The terrifying sound of flapping wings that slowly caught up to him. The crazed look in that things eyes as it finally caught him, only to laugh at his broken form while he threw him like a ragdoll through trees and clearings for what seemed like an eternity. Some how... Some way, he managed to escape. He should've died with his his mother, and father. At least then they would be together again. And then he wouldn't blame himself for what happened. Had he not been there all together, had he never exsisted his parents would most-likely still be alive.
Composing himself he wiped the steam off the broken mirror, and stared at himself with enough hate and killing-intent it would freeze the most noblest of warriors in place just out of raw fear. He turned and disrobed himself, stepping into the shower shortly after. The water was scalding. Enough to distort his skin and leave burns. But he didn't care.
It was NOTHING, compared to what they felt.
The hot water reopended recent wounds, specifcally the ones on his right forearm. The water melted away the scabs, more over so the carving trailing from his wrist to the crook of his elbow. It was a phrase that read out,
"FORGIVE ME FOR I HAVE SINNED"
The water itself caused his whole arm to bleed, painting the white porcelain floor in red. Soon enough, the bleeding was enough to cause him slight dizziness, and nausea. Though he didn't regret it. Trying to shake it off, he lost balance, falling onto the floor of the shower with a loud thud, while also gliding his left arm across a razor left carelessly on the ground. Sitting on the floor, he looked down at his new soon-to-be scar, though what filled his thoughs next terrified him.
"Why don't you finish the job, boy?" His eyes widened in fear, and his hands shot up to his ears to try to block out the manevolent voice that fueled his nightmares. "Go away!" He shouted in a crescendo through choked sobs and tears. "Go away? Wht would I do that? I'm apart of you." The voice replied, shaking the foundations of his very core. He could feel his shadow growing heavy as if it was forming it's own body. He brought his legs up to his chest in a fetal position and started pleading for the voice in his head to go away, crying in agony as he did so. "Why won't you leave me alone!?" He screamed through his sobbing, "God please! Just leave me the fuck alone!" His body shook in fear as he imagined the very incarnation of his deepest fears forming behind him, looming over with a wicked fanged smile. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" It laughed, "Are you scared?" It asked in his mothers voice. "It's okay, darling. MOMMY'S HERE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The young man broke down into a bumbling mess of incoherent sobbing pleas and begs for forgivness from his "mother". Which merely fuled the fire.
For the next hour, this young man would be tormented by his very thoughts, by his sins, and his regrets. Eventually passing out in his shower due to his exhaustion, and lack of blood. No one would would ever understand his torment. And he would never allow anyone to get close enough to begin to. Because his burden was his and his alone to bare. His scars were his trophies, his heart was his cage, and his name was the only real thing he had left.
RAZE