Darkness can be a living thing that wraps you up in it's arms, comforting
on the surface while it leaches away everything inside you until the only
things left are primitive fear and an oddly sharp sense of time.
He supposed he could spend the time doing better things than thinking about darkness, but there seemed little point to it anymore as he lay on his bed. His right arm was tucked under his head, while he used his left hand to trace patterns in the dark liquid in a bucket on the floor next to his bed.
plunk....
Another drop of dark liquid fell from the cuts on his arm into the bucket, fascinating him. How long would it take his veins to empty at this rate?
plunk....
A moment of guilt racked his slender frame as he watched the next droplet fall. What would happen to his friends in the morning? Would they forgive him? Or bury his memory in a foggy shroud of hatred for his desertion.
They would be confused, he had been careful to keep the bouts of quiet depression from showing. He'd never once used the word for this act, he'd read somewhere that if you used the word, it was a plea for help. And help was the last thing he wanted anymore.
plunk....
He'd lost count of how many droplets had fallen, but there was a good half inch in the bucket he'd placed there now. He didn't want anyone to have to face anything messy in the morning.. Just because he was asking the world to stop and let him off didn't mean his actions wouldn't leave consequences for someone else. So he'd thoughtfully gotten the bucket.
plunk....
Would it have been different? If he'd never once stepped into his gundam, what would have happened to him? Something honest deep inside suggested that his fate would be the same. Watching the world around him die...people he cared for...it all still would have led him down to this path.
Was that it then? Was destiny just a bucket of blood in a dark bedroom?
He didn't know, and didn't want to. It seemed so sad. But there it was, that bucket, his life measured in tiny droplets turned into a small pool.
plunk...
The room got darker then. Was it even possible? Yet unless his eyes were lying to him, it was darker now. What would they do with his gundam tomorrow? He still believed in the cause, that what they were doing was right. So he hadn't self destructed it, he wanted to leave it for another to take up the dream. One that was stronger than he was.
plunk...
"I'm sorry..." his voice sounded loud in the quiet room. "I'm not the angel of innocence you all see. I'm sorry Sandrock."
Bright blue eyes closed then, soft breathing growing fainter until the only sound left in the room was the gentle plunk of dark red droplets falling into a dark red sea in a little white bucket.
Silence....
He supposed he could spend the time doing better things than thinking about darkness, but there seemed little point to it anymore as he lay on his bed. His right arm was tucked under his head, while he used his left hand to trace patterns in the dark liquid in a bucket on the floor next to his bed.
plunk....
Another drop of dark liquid fell from the cuts on his arm into the bucket, fascinating him. How long would it take his veins to empty at this rate?
plunk....
A moment of guilt racked his slender frame as he watched the next droplet fall. What would happen to his friends in the morning? Would they forgive him? Or bury his memory in a foggy shroud of hatred for his desertion.
They would be confused, he had been careful to keep the bouts of quiet depression from showing. He'd never once used the word for this act, he'd read somewhere that if you used the word, it was a plea for help. And help was the last thing he wanted anymore.
plunk....
He'd lost count of how many droplets had fallen, but there was a good half inch in the bucket he'd placed there now. He didn't want anyone to have to face anything messy in the morning.. Just because he was asking the world to stop and let him off didn't mean his actions wouldn't leave consequences for someone else. So he'd thoughtfully gotten the bucket.
plunk....
Would it have been different? If he'd never once stepped into his gundam, what would have happened to him? Something honest deep inside suggested that his fate would be the same. Watching the world around him die...people he cared for...it all still would have led him down to this path.
Was that it then? Was destiny just a bucket of blood in a dark bedroom?
He didn't know, and didn't want to. It seemed so sad. But there it was, that bucket, his life measured in tiny droplets turned into a small pool.
plunk...
The room got darker then. Was it even possible? Yet unless his eyes were lying to him, it was darker now. What would they do with his gundam tomorrow? He still believed in the cause, that what they were doing was right. So he hadn't self destructed it, he wanted to leave it for another to take up the dream. One that was stronger than he was.
plunk...
"I'm sorry..." his voice sounded loud in the quiet room. "I'm not the angel of innocence you all see. I'm sorry Sandrock."
Bright blue eyes closed then, soft breathing growing fainter until the only sound left in the room was the gentle plunk of dark red droplets falling into a dark red sea in a little white bucket.
Silence....