Forenonte: Rated R for violence and one little bad word. This story is from Ken's POV, about him having the crest of Kindness, and carrying the horrible burden of killing his best friend.
I woke up at around 10:30 p.m. the night I first came back. The horrible dream had come again.
You're back to your original self… goodbye, Ken… only a real friend would do this…
Wormmon's disembodied voice echoed through my head again… again… I was going crazy. I don't deserve this crest of kindness-I've become a horrible monster! I've been anything BUT kind! I am condemned to hell, surely. Damned from the world. I hate myself. I am a monster. A freak. I have killed my best friend. I have pulled the trigger twice. My brother… why didn't I DO anything?
I hate myself.
I begin to bawl. Why me? Buried my face in my pillow.
I don't deserve to live. All the monstrous things I've done… they are too evil. Horrible. I can't go on. Never.
I tiptoed quietly to the kitchen, and searched for the knife drawer. Pulled out a long butcher knife.
I felt the cool steel in my hands. Ran my finger over the sharp end delicately.
Just a touch would break the skin.
Wiping my bloody finger off on my pants, I held up the gleaming knife. Bent my elbows. Went down on my knees.
And thrusted the knife through my chest.
Horrible spasms went through my body as I fell in slow motion to the floor. But I didn't care if I died. I was a monster, and I was getting what I deserved.
I woke up at around 10:30 p.m. the night I first came back. The horrible dream had come again.
You're back to your original self… goodbye, Ken… only a real friend would do this…
Wormmon's disembodied voice echoed through my head again… again… I was going crazy. I don't deserve this crest of kindness-I've become a horrible monster! I've been anything BUT kind! I am condemned to hell, surely. Damned from the world. I hate myself. I am a monster. A freak. I have killed my best friend. I have pulled the trigger twice. My brother… why didn't I DO anything?
I hate myself.
I begin to bawl. Why me? Buried my face in my pillow.
I don't deserve to live. All the monstrous things I've done… they are too evil. Horrible. I can't go on. Never.
I tiptoed quietly to the kitchen, and searched for the knife drawer. Pulled out a long butcher knife.
I felt the cool steel in my hands. Ran my finger over the sharp end delicately.
Just a touch would break the skin.
Wiping my bloody finger off on my pants, I held up the gleaming knife. Bent my elbows. Went down on my knees.
And thrusted the knife through my chest.
Horrible spasms went through my body as I fell in slow motion to the floor. But I didn't care if I died. I was a monster, and I was getting what I deserved.