This. Is. Dark. I am going to say that right now. If you were expecting a sad, fluffy, little oneshot, you were wrong. I was talking to an awesome friend, Eyeglasses Full of Stars, and we started talking about Kristoph (thanks for the inspiration, Eyeglasses). He always interested me, because we all know he's got a screw loose up there. This is what my mind created. Enjoy! o_0
The silver light of the moon illuminated the starless night sky, the only source of light in the empty city street. It had been abandoned by people years ago, if the boarded up windows and broken, rusted street lamps were any indication. A young boy, eleven years of age, had preferred this route home from the library ever since he'd discovered it. No one ever crossed his path here, he was completely alone. There were no cars or flashing lights or loud, obnoxious voices. It was peaceful.
Kristoph had never cared to be around other people, not even kids his own age. Thankfully his classmates had all learned that pretty quickly and left him alone during school. Then there was his three year old brother, Klavier. He was certainly fond of him, but when he started banging wooden spoons against their mother's pots and pans…
The boy took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. There's no reason be annoyed by it now. Klavier will be asleep by the time I get home. Kristoph adjusted the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and continued walking. He had grown quite skilled at controlling his anger, or any other emotion that threatened to surface. It was one of the reasons he had come to favor this street. Most children his age would have been discouraged by the old, dark street, but not him. It was just another street after all, no matter how it looked. Nothing had ever happened here before, at least that he was aware of.
He walked by a gap between buildings and glanced at his wrist watch. Perhaps I should quicken my pace. Mother and Father are never happy when I return home late.
Without warning, Kristoph felt a large, rough skinned hand grab his arm. In that same instant he was swept into the alleyway. The hand let go and he hit the ground, sliding against the hard, crumbling pavement.
"What was that?" Kristoph exclaimed.
"Shut up, kid," a man with a gruff voice said.
He looked up at his assailant, crystal blue eyes wide behind his thin framed glasses. The man blocked off the opening to the alleyway with his back to the moon, the shadow he created making him appear to be a faceless, black figure.
Sensing raw, primal emotions about to blossom inside him, Kristoph stood up and tried to keep his wits about him. I mustn't let those feelings take control. Only the most logical and rationally minded will prevail. "How dare you- aagk!"
Kristoph was cut short when the man kicked his chest. Once more, the boy went flying. He crashed in between two metal bins and hit the brick wall behind them. Dull, throbbing pain shot through his entire body, causing him to grimace as he slid to the ground. Suddenly, he noticed a sharper, more excruciating pain coming from his right hand. He lifted his hand slowly and looked at it.
Shadowy crimson blood seeped out of several small cuts on the back of his hand. The blood dripped down his pale skin slowly. He looked past his hand and saw the pieces of a glass bottle scattered on the pavement, some of them coated with blood. My blood.
"Get up, kid! I'm not finished with you yet!" the man said, but his deep, gravelly voice rang distantly in Kristoph's ears.
My blood. I'm hurt… And it's because of him. Something inside him shifted, and a sharp, cold feeling enveloped him.
The man swung his fist and punched Kristoph in the side of the head, making him collide with the trash can beside him. That disgusting little…
Kristoph grit his teeth and leapt up, raking the nails of his left hand across his attackers face. He scratched again with his right hand, the scent of his and his opponent's blood assailing his nostrils. The primal, cold feeling grow stronger, and Kristoph lost sense of what was going on around him. He just let his instinct take over, submerging himself in the sounds of screaming and the pulsating anger within him.
Finally the dank, forgotten street turned quiet once again. Not even a creature of the night made the slightest sound. Moonlight faintly illuminated the entrance to the alleyway, where a man lay sprawled across the pavement. His open eyes were distant and void of life, his face and neck covered in cuts and bruises. If anyone else had been there, they would have seen a young boy stand over the body. He pushed his glasses up his nose with his right hand, which was covered in scars. The lens reflected the moonlight, and his scars pulsated to reveal the face of a devil.