A Kid Named Fear.
I've been invisible all my life.
Not invisible in the sense that nobody cares enough to see me.
Just invisible in the fact that they don't want to see me.
They hate me. The hatred isn't even a real emotion; just insatiable wrath for something they can't even see, only feel.
I guess that's why they hate me so much.
The fact that I'm a feeling, the panic that grips your heart and struggles to pull it up out of your throat instead of just ripping out of your chest. The nauesa that washes over you when you realise nothing's going to be the same. The first wave of despair as you let out a silent gasping sob and completely lose it.
The thing they don't realise, though, is this: I've felt fear first-hand. It's been there all my life, just like my being invisible. Fear doesn't simply go away after it's attached itself to you. No, it latches onto your happiness and drains it, like a leech to skin and blood, but it doesn't just leave a bloodied circular bite. It leaves emotional and mental scars, as well as the physical ones.
My name is Fear.
Actually, Fear's just the meaning, but it is what I am.
You don't have to call me Fear. Personally, I think it's a drag.
You can call me Davis. That's what I wish people would call me, you know, if they could actually acknowledge my existence without hating it.
I really don't remember my past, except that name: Davis.
I'm pretty positive that was my name. At least, I hope it is, since I've been using it for a while. If you count three-thosand desolate years as a while, that is.
I'm not three-thosands years-old, mind you. I'm older.
Seventeen years older, to be precise.
I've been invisible that long.
Alone for three-thosand seventeen years...
Three-thosand seventeen years is a lot of time to think.
Thinking is pretty dangerous, espically when you have loads of time for it.
The one thing on my mind, though, is how the hell did I end up here?
This place... It's terrible as it is. They're killing one another, poisoning their brothers, pillaging and burning everything they've ever lived for. Then, they have the nerve to blame me.
It's all Fear's fault, they said as they lit a torch to skin. Blame him, they all shouted as a bayounet slid through cotton to skin through a pulsing heart back to skin to cotton to air. We're not doing anything wrong, they rallied as they slaughtered men with families and lives to live. We're the good guys, they persuaded as an ax clomped off a man's head.
Who's the they, you ask?
You. It's all of you.
I'm sorry if I seem to be pointing fingers, but this has been my life for three-thosand and seventeen years.
I have a lot of pent-up emotion, and the most common one just so happens to be myself.
I get scared a lot. Not of normal things, either. I've got no phobias of darkness or weird animals or freaky addictions.
I've just got a phobia of... Fear.
Fear, itself. Or myself.
Whatever, you get the general idea.
I'm just scared of what I do, what I am, who I am.
"BUT, WHO AM I?!" I screamed in the middle of a crowded shopping mall.
No one turned. No one gasped. No one asked if I was mentally ill.
I clenched my fists and I whirled around, sending a wild punch through the stomach of a buissness man who did the impossible: he stopped walking.
He actually stopped.
I stared at him, shock-still, my forearm through the flat stomach of the man in front of me. He glanced down at my face, and with a slight brush of the hand, dusted off the front of his buisness jacket as if I had punched some wrinkles into it, which was impossible, as all the air had been ironed out of it.
He continued walking, right through me, as if I wasn't even there.
Freezing hopelessness washed over me. My arms fell to my sides, my hands clenched into fists, as I bit back the sob that was threatening up my throat. Tears pricked my eyes. I slumped onto the floor, curled myself into a ball and allowed freezing feet to step through me.
"Davis. You're Davis," I whispered.
No. You're Fear, a thought hissed into my mind. That's all you'll ever be.
Well, hi, guys. After that incredibly dark introduction, I'd like to ask how the hell I came up with something like this because honestly, this was really depressing to write but I've already grown attached to Davis. All 753 words of him.
This is supposed to be for ROTG and the rest of the characters should be introduced later if I do make this more of a story type of thing, if you guys want more. We'll learn more about Davis and what, and who, he is. This introduction was beyond short, but I think it's good enough.
Hope you all enjoyed it and leave a review to tell me what you think!
