You know, There are those moments when I really hate you…. No, that's not true, It's always the same....I hate those who have made you this way.

I hate watching you crawl through that darkness, plagued by that awful hold he has over you.

Love?

Is that what you call it? That endless struggle that seems to engulf all who share that mans blood. Will you ever see the truth? ...Or do you know already, it has been before your eyes for years. You know the truth, but you live that deranged lie nonetheless. Some might say you're a glutton for pain, but you're not, really, are you? I know you well enough now to be sure of what you really desire, and my last wish is to at least lead you out of that hell.

I never hate you… I hate just watching you, and doing nothing. And watching you do nothing… although I know it is difficult for you, those scars you bear are so deep.

. All those nights where I would just sit outside your room waiting for the morning to come, all those nights where I could feel you falling to pieces, yet I couldn't bring myself to tell you, To simply tell you I was there. That I would gladly serve as that shoulder to cry on.

All the times I would pass Cassandra in the halls, the corner of his mouth just barely turned up in a sick grin... All those times I knew where he was heading, down that hall towards the morgue, the labs… Your bedroom. Do you even know how sick I always felt when he came anywhere near you?

And yet, I am only alive because I now inhabit the skin you tore off that snake. Ironic, but hasn't everything else in this life been just as cruel?

I neverleft you, Jizabel. Even as I boarded that train, I was watching you until the smoke and steam blocked my vision, and I had debarked. Every fiber of my being wanted to stay with you, wanted to stop and take you into my arms right there at the station.

You've done a decent job treating those wounds, or at least to hide them, I can credit you for that... Somehow you've managed to mend every fracture, to dull those sharp, broken, glassy edges...but someday you will break, Jizabel. That day will come without warning, ever so swiftly, and there will be no fixing it when that time comes. Someday you will shatter completely.

Someday you won't be able to pick up all of the scattered pieces from that bloodstained tile floor.

It is never a matter of if, but of when. Even I can admit that.

But when that day comes, I will gather those fragments, and hold them close to me.

I'll take them back with me, board that train once more, and leave that dull city behind.

And day by day I'll piece those shards of glass together again, holding on to what hope I have left. You, my broken angel, are that hope.

I could never really hate you, not for a moment. Besides, the resentment I held for you when we met cannot be equaled, one would suppose that makes up for how unconditional I am today….How no matter what twisted, mindless, thing you do I cannot bring myself to hate you for an instant…

All that is left is that love for you. For how I want to fight for you in the days ahead.

But someone tell me… Can you fix me, Jizabel…. When the day arrives that I finally shatter?

(Woowwww, OLD ONESHOT is old. But I felt like uploading something, so yeah. This was like, my second Godchild fic after Warmth. Anywho, I'm still working on Broken Home, love to all my readers!)