Author's Note: This was one of those... spur of the moment things... I know it kinda sucks... ; I'll go through it with grammatical logic later; none was used in the writing of this one-shot. XD;;
Oh... uh... yeah... it's a Psycho!Guy oneshot... just... y'know... since it wasn't exactly clear.
It Began with a laugh
It began with a laugh. A simple, friendly, nervous laugh. He remembered the fear that had glistened so apparently in his eyes that day. He could still taste the bitter agony he had suffered on his lips. He felt his heart pounding, and heard it's melodic beat in his ears. "Revenge" it said "Revenge. Get revenge." it chanted. And so sworn to his word, he vowed to do just that.
The young girl and boy were innocent. He knew that. It wasn't that he wanted to kill them. He needed to, and that message was burned into his mind. He needed this. He needed the anger, the rush of the adrenaline through his veins, the blood, the howling, the screams, the relief of the tension, the revenge. It could all be his if he did away with the poor princess and her county relative.
Through the years it had been apparent that he was becoming soft by day. By night, however, he was hardened and scared. His rationality became a blur, his mind was driven wild by fear and remembering. The screams would come again and again, they scarred his mind, they destroyed him from the inside out. The nightmare was only ended by the light, but soon it found it's immunity to reality and that too was devoured by the insanity of the tainted man's mind. She would never go away, and he soon found in his lack of thought that he wanted her there. The haunting would continue so long as he could keep his dearest sister close.
The day had come and no one would have seen the signs. A single raped blade swiped back from the wall marked his revenge. It was not a trophy, it was a mirror. It would reflect the pain and fear of his victims' eyes for them to see.
His gloved hand crept for the Duke's and Duchess's lives. They were wed to Death this morning.
He would turn the knob and stare at the light of the sacred flame; the same loathing stare he shot every morning. The boy would not wake like usual this morning. He slept in crimson stained sheets and marked and torn night clothes. No one would ever hear the scream that barely escaped his lips. The flame would burn out and become ashes to soon drown out in blood.
The halls would be tainted with blood of servants and duchies alike. The screams ignited his wick, he was ecstatic to taste the wine of their veins upon his lips.
He would wonder how the princess would scream, and he would smile and smile. And his smile would never burn out like the flame did to the ashes. No, he would let her suffer, just like she would have done to him. And her father was dragged upon the floor to paint the castle with his blood. And he would never question what force had given him such unholy permission to pull through his chaotic masterpiece. And she would scream and cry, and beg for his mercy that she would have never given. And he would corner her, take her up in his arms and hold her close to his chest.
His heart pounded in his ears "revenge", and her heart, drowned out by his would scream "forgive me!". But he would not hear. The madness would deafen him and numb his senses.
Then she would be calm, but not due to force, or a blade. Not by a demanding or death, but by a plea. His heart pounded in her ears "help me". And she cried in dry sobs for the man that had murdered her family and held her in his arms. The man she had tortured. The man that now held her life, and she would say, "You'll be forgiven."
It ended, howling, blood curdling, droning, echoing for what seemed like miles, the man laughed, and his flame died out.
And that was how NOT to write a fanfic. I'll fix it later when it isn't 11 PM on a school night.