Her Sweetness: -yawns- Okay, I was bored… I really didn't think this was worth posting, but oh well...
—Happy—
His life sucked.
That was all he could think of as he leant on one of the support beams for the porch. He turned his head from the blue skies and towards the ground, his lavender eyes darkening in thought. At this one thought, he knew most people would consider him to be a whiner. And one of the worst kind. A whiner who only thought of their lives and could only keep repeating and telling everyone else how unhappy they were, when really, there life wasn't so bad.
Spoiled. Spoiled would be the word for this kind of person. But Malik Ishtar was not this kind of person; no, he was not spoiled and he could never truthfully say that he had been spoiled. All his life, he was battered, beaten, depraved and left behind as others carried on, smiling and laughing, unaware of his pain and suffering as he sat quietly in the background, letting hatred and malice bubble inside himself.
It was bad enough, he thought, that as a young child he was forced into the darkness of an underground tomb, destined to watch over it until the 'Pharaoh's' return. Not allowed to venture out into fresh air, into the daytime, the light, he stayed there and read and, for a brief amount of time, accepted that this was to be his fate.
Until that day.
"Sister, help me! I don't want to be a Tomb Keeper!" He screamed, being carried by two men down the hall, still shouting and crying.
She watched, halfway hidden behind a pillar, her sad smile following him.
He cringed and ran his hands through his golden locks, smoothing them behind his ear as he let out a breath. He remembered it like it was yesterday. And of course, he would always remember the events from that day for the rest of his life. He was meant to. Every morning when he got dressed or took a shower, anything that required the removal of his shirt was a reminder and he hated it. He hated that he was tied down like an animal. Bound and gagged and cut into with a hot knife, destined to wear misery forever.
Muffled cries echoed throughout the corridors as the man held his son's squirming body with one hand and doused his blade in a hot flame with the other, grinning as he swiftly ran it across smooth, tan skin.
Malik remembered, shortly after the ritual, acknowledging his misery and despair and as he lay on his bed, feeling the burning sensation still on his back, he called out into the Darkness. Told the Darkness to take him, he was nothing anymore. He needed nothing, wanted for nothing and felt as if there was nothing to be had. Sobbing into his pillow, he cried out, Take me. And when he had finished his whisper to the Darkness, he was surprised when…
It answered.
"What's wrong, Malik?"
He shifted his position against the pole and looked back to the sky thinking about how his hatred manifested into something tangible. He remembered how nothing was the same after that and even so, he still wasn't happy. He remembered the scars and the tears and everything that wasn't supposed to happen, but did. Why was he never happy? No one knew how much he'd give to have someone call him 'spoiled' and have them be right. No one had any idea how much he wanted to be happy… but that always seemed a little out of reach for him.
There were times that he suspected no one cared about his unhappiness. But then, he thought, grimly, why should they? Everyone can't be worrying over one another now, can they? It was something that couldn't be helped. Nothing could've saved him. He was destined for this life, this crime and he was and always will be like this… unhappy.
He shook his head, his thoughts interrupted when the screen door to his house flew open and a body walked down, darkly tanned skin and golden strands of blonde being wiped out of the Manifestation of Darkness' lavender eyes. Malik smiled.
"Ready to go?"
—Owari—