"WHERE IS KILLER: BANE CHAPTER 3!?", you might ask. Well, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is, I lost the whole of chapter 3 after I STUPIDLY deleted everything. Now I got to rewrite the whole thing again, and to top it off, I forgot most of the parts that happened. It would take about a week to finish it, due to my busy schedule.
The good news is, well, in replacement of Killer : Bane, you get this. This is one of the many (and I mean many) fanfictions I was working on (as a test drive, as I call it. Also, this is also why Killer : Bane was delayed, but not as heavily as my exam.).
So, sit back, relax, and enjoy the read.
Note: This is just a vent I had. Please don't take any words I have written to heart. I don't want others to feel bad about me. Just want to put something off my chest. Enjoy my first ever two-shot.
This might be bad at some points as I'm too lazy to edit.
Disclaimer (if you haven't read the description): This one shot will contain self-harm acts with dark and twisted thoughts, so prepare your imagination (or brace yourselves, whatever you want). Everything that I write here is not and should not be promoted. You have been warned. Twice.
Started writing this on the 7th of October. Wrote this whenever I'm angry / mad.
This will be in Gregor's first person perspective.
I couldn't sleep. I was tired, but still couldn't sleep. Tomorrow was supposed to be a big day for me, but I didn't feel the least bit excited. I felt less emotional. More emotionless. I didn't want to remember why and how it happened, but my brain replayed the scenes anyway.
*One week ago*
A few days after we had left the Underland ('for good', Mom had said), Mom immediately talked about the situation, after gathering everyone, except Grandma and Boots, to the dinner table.
"Now," she started, clasping her hands together. "I've been thinking a lot about this. On what we should do after... that." She released her hands from her grip and drummed two of her fingers on the table. We all knew what that meant.
"We're not going to Virginia." Both Lizzie and I brightened up immensely.
"But..." She took a deep breath and turned her face to Lizzie. "Lizzie, you will be going back to school next week."
Lizzie looked like she wanted to say something, but hesitated.
Mom took that hesitation to her advantage and looked at me straight in the eyes, almost glaring at me. I had a bad feeling. I gave her a confused frown.
"Same goes to you, Gregor."
That was when I lost it.
"WHAT!?"
My legs automatically straightened as my hands slammed down onto the table. Luckily, no objects were on the table. Lizzie recoiled in shock. Dad shifted his gaze to his feet and shut his eyes, almost like he was praying.
Mom stood up as well, but had to tilt her head up to meet my face, as I had grown taller after those events. "It's for your own sake! I don't want my son to stay at home and only think about that- that place all day! I need you to move on! To be normal again!"
My hands curled into fists. "Do you think I can ever be normal in a WEEK!? After what I have been through!?"
"After what you have been through?!" She mocked, extending her arms to indicate our apartment. "This whole family has been a wreck ever since we went down there! Because of that, your father became sick! Boots talks to cockroaches! Lizzie talks to rats! I almost died!"
Tears started to flow down Mom's red cheeks. My stomach lurched. I could deal with Mom being angry, but Mom being angry and sad at the same time was almost too much to take. I had almost regretted my words, but I wasn't done.
"But the Underlanders cured you! They gave Dad medicine! We have more money! We-"
"I don't care about that! Either go to school, or I'll force you to."
"You can't do that to me! You can't!"
"I already have."
Those three words alone stunned me. What did she mean? Did she mean that... she had already arranged a school for me? Without my consent?
My rage was dramatically increasing. My head slowly turned to Dad, whose back seemed to be hunched even more than before. "Dad? Is that true?"
The silence proved it. I was too afraid to ask what I wanted to ask, but my lips did it anyway, moving by its own.
"Why didn't you stop her?"
That was when his head shot up to me; his eyes all red and puffy. His face revealed all the answers I needed to know.
Anger rose to the peak of my emotions. My vision blurred and only focused on two people. Mom and Dad. I knew what it was. It was the all-too familiar rager sensation. Ripred had warned me about it, but I had not listened. This was the consequence I had to bear.
"No." I staggered back, unable to take in any of it. "I- I don't want this." My voice was as shaky as my hands were. I didn't want to physically hurt them. I just wanted to prove my point.
"Gregor..." Dad said softly, almost weakly. The buzzing in my head became louder and louder. The urge was getting stronger. I resisted and fled to my room, slamming the door in the process, accidentally waking a sleeping Boots.
But I didn't care. I knelt down onto the floor, fighting the urge. Saliva and sweat dripped out of my mouth and face.
Fight it, fight it. Control it. Don't give in to it.
I didn't, but I barely did so. My mind was flooded with pure anger. It hurt so much. Somehow, between the mess of my head, I heard the voice of Ripred.
What's your plan?
What's my plan? My plan... is to control this ... this 'power'. This curse.
Then what are you wating for, boy?
I'm trying! It's not working!
I could've sworn I heard a snap, which sounded awfully like Ripred's tail slapping the ground whenever he threatens me or wants me to pay attention.
Try harder, boy! Look around you!
I did. I looked around, scanning my surroundings. I saw my bed, a pile of clothes, my desk and the lamp on my desk. Nothing I could use.
A knock on the door startled me.
"Gregor?" A soft and timid voice. I realized that it was Lizzie. I didn't answer. I couldn't answer.
"Dinner's ready." A pause. No answer came out of my mouth. She continued. "If you don't want to come out, I'll just leave it here."
There was a tap on the floor, and a tray of food with utensils was slid under my door.
Like a guard feeding a prison inmate.
Dark humor. I didn't know I had it in me.
Another tap, then a soft bump on the door.
Another pause, then "I miss Ripred."
A chuckle. "You know, I was confused when Ripred took care of me. He was mean to others, but not to me. I always wondered why." A sharp inhale. "Then, I knew. He told me. He told me that I looked like one of his pups. The pup that he lost. All three of them." A sob. "He told me to keep that a secret from you. He didn't want your pity, he had said." A mix between crying and laughing. "It's funny, isn't it? He told me not to, but I'm telling you." Another sob. "I miss Ripred. I love him too. You do too, right? But I know you miss and love her more. Luxa. You love her, don't you?"
I wanted to reply 'I do.', but my mouth was too dry to swallow, much less speak.
Two taps. "I need to go to sleep. Mom will kill me if I don't." A deep breath. "I just want you to know that, whatever you said just now, wasn't your fault. You did what you thought was right." Another pause. "See you next morning." And then there was no more talking, and I was alone again, accompanied by the constant buzzing.
I eyed at the tray of food. It looked delicious. I wanted to eat, but I had to deal with this first. My vision was then forced to focus on the two utensils: The sharp, pointed fork, and the dull, rounded spoon.
I suddenly had a crazy idea. I crawled to the tray and grabbed the fork. It gleamed under the light, triggering a memory of Sandwich's - no - my sword. Using my rager senses, I aimed it at one particular spot of my arm, and stabbed it in.
Pain came first, before my silent scream. Even after the many fights I had, I still felt pain. It was lesser than I thought, but still painful nonetheless. My brain pulsed, then the buzzing became softer, if only a little.
It worked! It works!
Driven with determination, I continued, now scratching the skin of my arm with the razor sharp blades and ignoring the blood that flowed so freely.
Painful, but working. Working. Keep on working. Work my way through. Work it out.
After multiple small cuts, the buzzing finally stopped. I laid there on the ground, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. The blood on most of my wounds had dried. I was too tired to wipe them off. I was too tired to eat. I was too tired to move. So, I slept on the floor.
Both a knock and a buzz awoke me.
"May I come in?" It was Dad.
"No," I replied, too afraid to let him enter. The buzzing was heightening. My voice was hoarse, I realized.
But he didn't hear me and opened the door. His feet kicked the tray of stale food. He slowly looked up to me, his face contorting to worry and shock.
"You didn't eat," he said, as if it wasn't obvious enough.
"No," I said, clearer this time.
He was about to say something but stopped once he had opened his mouth. He hobbled up to me, sat in front of me and gave me a bowl of cereal.
"Here. Figured you were hungry."
I silently accepted it and wolfed it all down in several big munches, slamming down the bowl onto the floor when I was done and accidentally cracking it.
An awkward silence ensued. Dad seemed confused and amused at the same time while I hated myself for that action. It proved that I still couldn't control it. I looked away in annoyance and embarrassment.
"So...", he said, breaking the silence. "What happened to your arm?"
Upon hearing those words, I instantly hid my left arm to my back, but I was too late. The damage had been done. He had seen it.
"I- I fell." It was a lame excuse, but I had to try.
"Gregor." His tone and voice softened. The buzzing became louder. No! Not this again! "Please don't lie to me."
I put on a fake smile, trying to buy time for both of us. "No really, I fell! I ran into my room and, you know, tripped."
His frail hands firmly grabbed my shoulders. The buzzing dramatically increased in both amplitude and pitch. My surroundings dimmed and I was only focused on him. On Dad. The target I didn't want to target.
"Gregor. Don't lie to me." The 'please' was gone.
Dark thoughts started to flood my mind. I imagined tearing off his arms one by one as he screamed in pain. I imagined him choking in fear as I squeezed his throat. I imagined his death, not by sickness, but by my own two hands.
I shook my head, willing them to stop. No more. I do no harm. I do no more harm.
But Dad took it the wrong way. He shook my shoulders. Intentions to kill was being carved inside my head. No no no no no!
"Gregor. Tell me. I need to know." The usual gentle voice of Dad was replaced by this... this distorted voice.
His words echoed in my mind in different sequences. "Tell me. I need to know. Gregor. I need to know. Gregor. Need to know. Gregor. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me."
Soon, only two words repeated over and over again, but this time more ... aggressive and demonic.
"TELL ME! TELL ME! TELL ME!"
Covering my ears in desperation, I shook my head more violently and constantly mumbled.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!"
"Gregor?"
Something in me snapped. I shoved him onto the floor and pinned him down on the neck with my free hand.
"Gre...gor!" choked the person whose face was blurry.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up! I'll kill you! I'll kill you if you don't!"
To prove it, I used the blood stained fork on my other hand to scratch his cheek. It drew blood, leaving four claw marks on it.
He screamed, then coughed, then screamed and coughed and gasped for air. I screamed together with him, but it was combined with laughter. Maniacal laughter. My maniacal laughter.
Then, I heard footsteps, advancing towards the room. There was a shout among the screams and laughs.
"What in the world is going - "
The feminine voice got cut off. I looked up. A person was at the door; her face filled with horror and fear. Mom. My new target.
My laughter stopped and turned into a devilish grin. I abandoned the still body below me and went straight for her, like a predator aiming for its prey.
She screamed just like him and tried to shut the door, but I was faster. I flung the fork towards her arm, penetrating her skin. She shrieked in pain and let go of the knob, giving me time to push her down and clamp her mouth shut.
She resisted, but I was so much stronger. I felt teeth chomp onto my hand. The buzzing became softer. It didn't hurt, but I still felt it.
"Let go! Let me go!"
But she didn't listen. Annoyed by her persistence, I slapped her on the face, hard. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her jaw opened. I swiftly removed my hand away from the mad dog and slapped her again. And again. And again.
She was a mad dog. An animal. A being under me. Those beings who attack their superior deserved to be punished.
Her cheeks became red and swollen, with tears running down her face. She was crying. Again.
I grabbed her by the collar and shouted, "Stop crying! I don't want to see you cry!"
As I said that, my vision became blur, with some liquid coming out of my eyes. I was crying. Why was I crying?
When I had finished that thought, a voice called out. "Gregor? What are you and mama doing?"
My head whipped up to see two blurry figures. I wiped my tears and stared harder. It was Lizzie and Boots. Sweet, innocent Boots, and horrified Lizzie, staring at their brother beating their mother.
My mind was being ravaged, hungry for more violence, more bloodshed. It aimed for the youngest: Boots.
No! Not her! Please, no!
I backtracked towards my bed and wrapped myself with my blanket, trying to get away from them to prevent them from being hurt. But my mind throbbed and throbbed, trying to weaken my will to stop. It was a headache. Before I lose myself, I needed to warn them.
"Lizzie!" I shouted between grunts. "Call .. an ambulance! Get Mom and Dad ... away from me!"
She feverishly nodded and did her best to drag Mom and Dad out of my room, getting Boots to look away first and smartly closing the door.
Buzzing, buzzing, and even more buzzing. It was like a million wasps stinging my head. I slammed my head onto the wall continuously. I didn't care about the blood. I didn't care about the pain. I just kept hitting.
I felt dizzy after countless times . Good. I can't hurt anyone when I'm unconscious. I slumped onto my bed and fainted as I heard the faint wails of sirens.