My blood is black.
I can't get away from her, because my blood is black.
I can't be happy, because my blood is black.
I'll never know freedom, because my blood is black.
I'm in a constant state of freefall, never knowing when the talons of insanity will swoop me up like some predatory bird, tearing out what little soul I have left. I wish I could trust my own mind, but I never will. When I go under, it's like some broken fever dream, fast, silent, and deadly.
Sometimes I wish I could just kill myself. But I can't. One, Ragnarok would never let me die. And two, if Madam Medusa found out, she'd find a fate worse than hell for me. I already know I'm going to hell. I've killed people. But it just feels so good. Even though Ragnarok eats them, not me, I still feel good when I make a kill. It makes Madam Medusa happy. And if she's happy, she might leave me alone for a few days. She might just lock me in the room instead of beating me – or worse.
I'm used to the room now. I get to spend time alone with Ragnarok. He's my best friend. I know that what he does isn't right, but it's all I have to cling to. We'll be together forever.
Who am I trying to fool? I hate Ragnarok. I hate everything. I hate him, I hate Madam Medusa, I hate Free and Eruka and all the degrading things they do to me.
I guess that's why I like killing so much. When I make a kill, some of the hate goes away along with the life.
Although I wish I got to eat the soul. I'm so hungry. I'm always hungry. When's the last time I ate? I think I had a slice of bread a… a week ago? Or was it yesterday? Either way, my mouth is parched. But Madam Medusa told me that water is a bad thing. Very bad. That's why it's a good thing that there's no water in my little hell. If there was even a drop on my oceanless beach, I wouldn't know how to deal with it.
Are you mad, Mother? Are you steaming with rage now? Mad that I'm telling them all this? Ready to lock me in the room again? Don't worry, I'm immune. I can think of much worse.
What's that, Ragnarok? What's worse? Just being around her is worse. Getting locked up is a vacation from the taunts, the punches, the cuts and everything else that I can't even mention.
She'd kill me if they knew. And send me somewhere that makes hell seem like a picnic. But hell is already inside my head. Isn't it, Ragnarok?
Asura's waiting for me. I just know it. I'll join him as a kishin. Then I'll be strong. I'll know how to deal with so many things! Or at least, that's what she tells me. I believe her. She's my mother after all.
I want to kill her.
Hmm, how should I do it? Poison, bullets, a blade to the throat. See if she bleeds black like me, wouldn't that be interesting? Or pour my own blood down her throat, turning it into myriad spikes in her wretched body. Tear her up. If it didn't choke her first. Wouldn't that be ironic, to be silenced by the one thing that you don't want to speak?
Are you scared, Mother? Are you worried of your own death? Are chills going down your spine like skittering little mice? Don't worry. I'll do it quick, like all my kills. In the middle of the night, when the whole world sleeps. Except me.
To be honest, I don't remember last night. I think Medusa drugged me again. I'm not sure what she did, but my whole body aches like I'm being forced to fight iron chains holding me down.
Are the chains real, or is it just the madness? Oh! I'm sorry, Medusa! Madam Medusa! Of course I know what to call you! I just forgot for a moment! Please don't hit me again! Don't do that to me! I don't know how to deal with the way it feels. Stay away from me! Stay out of my head! I hate you!
…
…
…
I love you, Mother. Of course I will. I'll do whatever you ask. Kill the girl, you said? Which one? The one with the pigtails? Will I get to play with her first? Maybe bring her back home and show her the rabbits? Oh, I forgot, we don't have them anymore. I killed them all. Rabbit souls are delicious. I love to watch the blood ooze out. Isn't it funny how their blood is red, Mother, and mine is black?
…
Of course. Yes, I understand. I misspoke. Not funny. Intriguing. Yes, I understand that funny is an obsolete word. It means nothing. Especially when there's nothing to laugh about. May I please have my head back now? Pretty please, pass the mind? Just like passing the coffee to Eruka, the one that put the snakes inside her. After I'm done with the mission? That's fine. I can deal with that.
…
Come back, little souls. It will only hurt for a second. Just one swipe of my blade to sever your head. There. Wasn't that easy? What's it like to be eaten by the demon sword? Does it hurt? Is it satisfying, like killing? Where do you go? Do you just spend eternity in your own mind? That would get lonely.
Is there a hell in your head, too, little souls?
Are you proud, Mother? Are you squealing with joy over your successful little child? Mommy dearest, will you go another day without feeding me poison? Darling Mother, will you go one more day without ripping me apart from the inside out? Mummy sweetest, will I live another day without falling prey to your sick fantasies?
Mama, can you hear me?
You're quiet.
I know you're listening.
Not good enough, you say? Not quick enough, strong enough, efficient enough? Have I failed you as a tool? Very well, Mother. What is my punishment?
You won't send me to the room this time?
You won't hit me?
You won't feed me poison and make me vomit it up, the bile torching my throat and eating away at the inside of my already bleeding mouth?
Then what?
Love, you said? You're going to love me? No, Mama, that's the worst punishment! I hate it when you do that! Was I really that bad? I'll go back and do better! I'll stay up all night training! You can hit me as much as you want! Just don't-
Oh.
Oh dear.
I know it's not supposed to be like this. A real mother wouldn't do this. Happy, you say? You think I'm happy? Well, I suppose… not my mind though. I can't help anything else. Maybe Ragnarok's happy. He's sick like you. But he's not me.
I'm never happy.
Because my blood is black.
Medusa does horrible, horrible things to her child. Huge shock there.
