Realization
By: Krizzie
Disclaimer: I don't own TGQ or any of the characters in this story.
Warning: minor OOCness, amateur writing
Summary: I felt numb as I walked, but somehow, somewhere, it hurt. I couldn't feel the floor beneath me, nor the wind that was supposed to caress my face. And I felt shame, and guilt and anger and most of all, I felt regret.
Voices bounced off the walls, out the door, and into my ears. Some were familiar, some cherished, some foreign, but the monotony of their tones made them seem all so surreal, despite the real glow on their cheeks and the deep, overpowering rhythm of their heart.
I hesitated, a little, but my innate curiosity overwhelmed me and I entered, sidestepping the partly-open door perhaps by habit. Someone's burning rubber, I thought, smelling a distinct foul odor wafting through the open windows, then discarded the same thought easily.
My stomach turned at the familiar feeling washing over me at the sight of the room. A man was shouting, that had to be Kinta, and there were sobs, and even if I turned my head I could still see the tears flowing. And the mother, I felt nauseous; oh gods… the puddle of blood had been too much.
My eyes scanned around on their own, absorbing every little detail that they could until they could. The drawers, the chairs, that broken mirror that refused to be thrown away; that little gray rag that housed the corner of the room. But most of all I concentrate on the people: loved ones, friends, acquaintances, and unknown faces with blank eyes and minds that are similarly void of anything. And I think… they're not supposed to be here.
There was a small boy, young and naïve but with a mind that could process events and data with such absolute understanding. He had grown, I told myself, and excellently so. I felt so proud and grateful and sober all at once. There were tears streaming down his lovely golden eyes.
What was I thinking?
A young girl —woman, I amended quickly— with a look of pain that didn't go along with her pretty face, staring absently at the chalk outline on the floor; A computer genius, having outgrown tantrums and petty little shows typing away furiously with livid fire on his naturally bright eyes; and a man that I had learned to respect, the man with the quick mouth and an even quicker fist, the man with a hundred jokes, was sitting formally, grin banished from his face as he asked the usual mandatory questions.
What have I done?
I turned away, too ashamed. I thought it had been the answer, the solution to the doubt that continually plagued my mind. I thought I had been correct, rational, I thought I had been right… like all those other times.
I couldn't take this anymore…
I felt numb as I walked, but somehow, somewhere, it hurt. More painful than a punch or even a stab in the gut; more painful than goodbye and perhaps, even death. I couldn't feel the floor beneath me, nor the wind that was supposed to caress my face. I couldn't feel anything. The heavy feeling that was supposed to settle in my chest wasn't there, but that made it all the more agonizing to bear. I felt shame, and guilt and anger and most of all, I felt regret.
I looked away, even if I knew they didn't know I was even there, because I felt disgraceful, and stupid and vulnerable and I felt so affronted of myself. I was wrong, wrong, WRONG, and there was nothing I could do about it. That was the most abysmal thing of all. I hated feeling so helpless. (I nearly laughed at the irony… isn't this the reason why I was here in the first place?)
I stared at the face, the beautiful pale face, framed by delicate blue locks that scattered messily around the head. The brown eyes stared eerily at the air, because there wasn't anything to cover them from the world. The arms were long and slender, powerful but weak; the fingers were blood soaked and burnt and the chest was messier still.
I couldn't cry anymore, I realized, like I couldn't undo these things. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! What led you to do all those things?
…
Krizzie: Alright… so maybe this isn't a suitable birthday fic, or even a sane one, but it's all I could think of. I hope my fellow… morbid(?)… people have enjoyed. Please review!
Uh… I hope you get the idea, but Ryu is the one talking. Speaking of which, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! (advanced)