Authors note: I do not own Martin Mystery or any of the keep an open mind when reading this and enjoy.

Summary: In this particular piece Martin is suffering from the events after war. He tries so hard to pretend to be okay that he doesn't realize that someone is worried about him.

After The War

The wind blew around with a fierceness that Martin felt in his whole body. His mind screamed out against the door he was trapped behind, the door that was coated in ever flowing blood.

Golden-brown eyes opened as the nightmare ended leaving him drenched in sweat and shivering. He looked out the window and saw that there was a storm outside and the wind was blowing the rain so heavily against it he thought the glass might break. He shuddered and looked at his hands, free of blood tonight. He stood up and grabbed a towel heading for the shower he so badly craved at the moment. Martin turned on the taps and stepped under the scalding spray all too happy to wash away any remaining blood that wasn't physically there. He hissed as the water hit some long scratches on his arm, ruminants of a nightmare three days previous. They opened once more and bled again, red blood turning the water running down his arm pink. He hissed again as his back flared up forcing him to sit on the tiles and curl up in a fetal position as the thing inside him clawed furiously trying to get out. He wanted it to stop and go to sleep once more but it always started up after a nightmare, as if its will was deny to the blonde the sleep he so craved, and lacked for, these days. Moaning he stood up as the burning pain subsided and left his body aching so badly that standing was hard. He legs shook as he punched the tiled wall, the skin on his knuckles splitting on impact drawing blood. The seal on his back burned again and Martin collapsed once more trying his best not scream out. Martin begged his mind to let him forget it all as he closed his eyes. He woke up to find himself still in the shower but the water had turned cold, icy cold. He pushed himself up and sighed, aching all. He dressed in a long black turtle neck and the usual orange and yellow t-shirt with black pants. The blonde sighed and swung his bag over his shoulder leaving his dorm and locking the door before he left for his first class.

Math was already hard enough as the first class in the morning but when you had less than three hours sleep it made the class so much longer. The teacher, Mr. Trumur, put the chalk in his hand down and walked over to the desk where Martin Mystery's face was hidden in the folds of his arms, asleep. The teacher dropped a rather heavy text book next to the blondes head. Martin jumped at the sound, his heart beating furiously in his chest as he struggled to calm his racing mind down. Hi mind swam with images of Anna and her face the moment his very hand had pulled out her heart. He shuddered and looked up to face his teacher, seeing blood running down the side of the man's balding head. He forced himself to will the blood away and smiled widely, his teacher's face becoming clear of blood and forcing a joking smile with his lips.

"Care to explain why you were sleeping in my class?" Mr. Trumur looked pointedly at him, frustration showing in those dulling brown eyes. "Is what I teach that uninteresting?"

"No sir," Martin replied, "Just didn't get much sleep last night," Martin, still grinning, laughed and put his hand on the back of his head.

"I am assuming your homework isn't complete." The teacher frowned. Martin pulled some papers out of his binder and gave them to the man.

"No sir, I finished it when I entered my room last night." He watched the teacher look over them with a surprising satisfaction. "May I be excused, I need to use to the bathroom." Mr. Trumur pointed to the door and returned to teaching the subject. Martin left the classroom quickly, heading toward bathroom with the speed of a madman. He pushed the bathroom door opened, locked the stall door, and knelt down and emptied the contents of last nights dinner into the toilet in violent gasps. He finished throwing up, flushed the toilet and let his back hit the stall door. He hugged his legs close to his chest breathing in and out slowly to calm down his aching body. He sat like that for a few minutes before getting up and washing his mouth out. He looked at the clock and found that there was ten minutes of math class left. He left the bathroom and returned to class acting as if nothing had happened. He sat in his desk and turned his attention to the board, staring at the equations. The bell rang a few minutes later and Martin collected his items and left for his next class.

Classes came and went as Martin traveled through a haze the entire day. He barely noticed lunch but tried to pay attention and acted goofy at the right intervals. After lunch more classes hurried by and finally it came time for the last class, art. It was something he had taken more of an interest in recently as he settled behind the art easel and took out his paints. The art teacher declared that they could paint, draw or sculpt whatever they chose that day and that it was a day for their own inspiration. Martin grimaced as the seal on his back burnt to annoy him but not to hurt him. He took out some red and started to put paint on what was soon to be his mosaic. He painted with vigor that was so profound that not even the art teacher wanted to disturb him. Martin was still painting well into the evening in the corner he had situated himself in. Now there were reds, browns, beiges, blacks and greens littering the once white canvas. Martin set the brush down and looked at his work with terrified eyes. He threw a white sheet over the canvas and took it to his room where he dumped it into a safe behind his computer. He tensed as remembered what was on that canvas and turned to his neglected homework. He walked over to his desk and sat down to complete the work that should have been done earlier. He finished it fairly quickly, his understanding of it flawless since he had the time to focus on it now.

He decided to forgo sleep, the image on the painting haunting his mind. He activated the safe and pulled the canvas out of the safe. The demon on the canvas stared at him with eyes as red as blood with dark skin that was almost black. Its claws were holding a human heart leaking blood down the length of its muscled and scared arm. Its teeth were long and pointed, dripping with saliva and grinning in a malicious satisfaction. In the other clawed hand was the body of a pale boy, dead and staring blankly into empty space. Around the demon lay the remains of humans. A river of blood soaked the demons feet and on the demons horned head was a crown of bones that still had human tissue on it, behind the demon was the brown door with a bloody brass knob. Martin forced himself to look out the window and down at the students talking carefree on the ground below. He felt a chill run through him as he thought her heard the faint whisper of a chilling murderous voice. He jumped when he heard a knock on the door causing him to drop the painting. He turned the image toward the wall and rushed to open the door but not before putting on a cheerful smile on his face.

"Hi." Diana's worried eyes looked into his golden-brown orbs. "Jenny said you were in the art room really late." Martin forced back the guilty feeling lingering in the pit of his stomach, "Yeah I was. I was just working on an art project. It's due tomorrow and-"

"You're lying." Diana directed a pointed stare at Martin, "I know you are because Jenny said that there isn't anything due for another two weeks." Diana watched Martin's eyes as he opened his mouth, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing besides the fact that you doubt your smart, handsome and talented step-brother," Diana resisted the urge to punch her brother through his bedroom window. "What, no chibi Diana attacking me?" He laughed and yelped when she stepped on his foot rather hard.

"I'm worried about you stupid," Diana's voice had lost some of its previous volume. "Mark Traverse saw you run into the bathroom and so did Arnold. They heard you getting sick into the toilet." Diana stared at him again, "Why are pretending to be okay all the time."

"I'm not pretending," Martin told the worried brunette, "I just ate a bad sandwich is all."

"When you're ready to talk to me I'll listen, I promise." She smiled at him, "Get some sleep you look so tired all the time. I have to go study, a test in calculus tomorrow." Diana looked at him with caring green eyes that made Martin feel guilty for worrying her. "It's okay to stop pretending you know." Diana whispered as she hugged him quickly and left for the library. Martin watched her leave and shut the door once she disappeared from sight. He grabbed his towel and pajamas and rushed to the shower where he scrubbed his body as hard as he could. His back ran down the shower wall as he sank down to the tile floor. He pulled his knees toward his chest and pushed back the angry tears as he struggled to breathe. Once his breathing calmed down he squeezed his hands around his legs and let out a frustrated cry.

"I'm sorry Diana. I can't talk to you about this. Who would want to listen to a monster? I have to keep pretending." Martin let out a strangled sob as the tears ran down his face, his body shaking. "No one should ever care about a monster like me."