Love and hate, blood and bones, passion and lust come together to create a binding tale of a romance so devastating it could destroy the very sanity of their world. Innocent. Or. Guilty.
This is the first I've written like this, and I really like it. It's a little… odd, but ENJOY!
I, sadly, don't own Shugo Chara.
I DO own all of the odd letterings, like the big AMU, and the Ikuto kitty thing :) Any questions let me know! Plz review or, don't if you really hate it that much T.T
Yet again. ENJOY!
This is the story of s twisted time. Confusion and pain, insanity and pain. What are we really? Who really are they?
No one's safe.
We're all insane.
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7:30 PM, March 9, 2012
Delian family crime scene
He exited the house, shivers clawing their way over his spine. The scene that had been laid out before him had been more than tragic. It had been gruesome. The stench of the murders had filled his mouth with the taste of blood and bile. The disgust had caused a feeling of pure hatred to roil through his gut. This was an act against humanity, this was a bloody deal with a devil. There was no way a human could do this. Only the spawn of the devil himself could pull off something like this. Maybe it was the devil himself.
The vivid images crossed his mind again. His grim face became even grimmer. There was no hope for the victims once the devil had entered their house. There was no reservations.
No mercy.
No kindness.
No hesitation.
No motives.
No humanity.
Nothing but a pure exploitation of a love of carnage and guts, of torture and hate.
There was no way this gruesome scene could be just that. A scene.
There had to be a reason, though covered carefully.
No human creature could do this!
No without a reason.
Or could they?
No.
He looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. The note had been shoved against his window in what seemed like a hasty attempt to warn him. But of what? Some dastardly cult that had arranged this massacre? He crushed the paper in his enclosed fist, enraged that warning could not be more specific.
They are not innocent. Make them die.
Could it be any more vague? He walked to the car and for the first time saw the children. Two teens were manacled, but holding one another tightly. The young man held the pinkette and softly ran his fingers through their hair repetitively, murmuring softly to her. Her hands rested on his chest, her eyes closed tightly. Fear showed on her soft features, and tears seemed to leak from her eyes. She was the image of innocence, an angel. He was the opposite of her, a darkly handsome young man that looked as though he were trouble. He looked as though he could help with this plot, but not actually commit these murders. They were children. They couldn't do this. He turned his head from the couple and braced his hand on the car. He would find who did this, and he would make them pay dearly.
He watched as the youths were shoved into two separate cop cars, silent and terrified. He wondered for a moment of they had committed these atrocious murders, but the thought was brief and it made him recoil violently. To think that children such as them had committed these disgusting acts of inhuman insanity was a thought he didn't want to even touch. It was painful and disgusting.
But what if they had? He remembered the note, and taking it out of his pocket he examined the scribbled text. The crumpled piece of paper was his only clue, and he didn't know what it meant. Anyone could have wrote it. Those kids could have wrote it, trying to warn him, and before they could get away they were caught at the scene of the worst crime committed in the last ten years. Who knew?
Maybe they did have something to do with it.
The detective shook himself violently and, breathing in tortured breaths, drove away into the night.
10:00 AM. March 10, 2012
Lillith Grace County Police Station, Investigation room 11
The pinkette sat in front of me, looking too innocent to really be what she's been accused of. That man, on the other hand, looked dangerous enough. I shifted the light out of her eyes, and smiled softly at her. She smiled back.
She looked like a child. Her pink hair was obviously unnatural, no one could have natural pink hair. Her soft golden eyes were things of legend. She was a gorgeous little angel. I wanted to get her back to whatever family must be worried sick about her. I didn't want to keep her longer than possible. She was so adorable, like my three year old daughter.
So… innocent.
"Hello," I said, coughing a bit into my hand. I felt embarrassed, and slightly guilty asking her about this.
"Hi. Is everything alright?" She asked softly, and her eyes shifted nervously to the door. I nodded.
"Yes, we just got a report about something a little worrisome. I need to ask you a few questions," I told her softly. There was no way this could be the killer we were after. She looked no older than fourteen. How on Earth could someone with eyes like that harm anyone. She looked at me earnestly, like she was hoping everything was ok with the world. She made me shake my head at those accusing her.
"Oh. Well, in that case, I'll tell you anything you need to know," she said with a childish smile. I nodded again.
"Well, then how about you tell me why you're with that young man?" I said, folding my hands on the cold metal of the table between us.
"Oh, that's easy!" The pinkette exclaimed, sounding relieved.
"Then, please, do tell," I said, gesturing briefly. She nodded with a bright smile, then closed her eyes and leaned forward, folding her hands beneath her chin.
"It was the first time I had ever been allowed to leave the hospital," she said softly as a sweet smile spread across her lips. She delved straight into her past, revealing to me how the two young teens had met.
AMU
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AMU
11:30 AM, November 11, 2001
Richland Alabama, Archain Asylum for Chlidren
"Amu, honey, do you have everything?" Midori asked. I smiled and nodded cheerfully. When she grabbed the suitcase, and turned away from me I frowned. No I didn't have everything, but they wouldn't let me bring my pillow with me. It wasn't very nice. I ran up to Midori, that's what they called her before they went away. Midori, they had told me to call her. They said to call her that because she might not actually be my Momma. We saw the report.
"Mommy can I meet you in the car? I wanna say good-" I tugged at her dress. She swatted my hand. That was the first time she hit me. I remember that was the first time, that first moment I had ever really met her. That first day, that first precios moment had just began something huge.
"Yes. Go do what you have to. I'll bring the car right out front," she said, then took my case and left me, standing alone. I shrugged her behavior off, thinking it odd, nothing more. I turned to go find little Ami. She had been such a great help through everything. She believes me when I tell her the thoughts I have, and the feelings. I ran to her room, my footsteps sounding through the white hallway. It was bright, but scary. I hated these halls, but of course I'd never say so. I'd never tell anyone they were bad. People here were too nice to hurt their feelings.
I couldn't quite remember the way though. This was a weird looking hallway... too white. It hurt my head. A lot. I pressed my palm to my forehead, trying to get rid of the pain. It wasn't working though. Tears started flowing down my cheeks, and I curled into a ball. As the pain tried to break through my skull.
That's when he found me.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you ok?"
That was the first truly sweet gesture I remember. It came not from the mother who should have loved me unconditionally, but the youth who found me that day. I looked up at the sweet voice. The voice was like chocolate to my ears, and the midnight blue that filled my vision was just as delicious. When I gazed at his features it confused me. His face wasn't kind, it was closed off. And the instant I met his eyes my headache left. It was like a poof. It was just gone. I nodded, and wiped my tears. The boy fell backwards, and pulled me into a hug. I hugged him back, roughly wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I hadn't been hugged in a really long time. "Who are you?"
"My name's Ikuto. I'm here to visit my mother," he said plainly. I nodded. That made loads of sense.
"I'm Amu," I said, pulling away from him and smiling at his gorgeous, catlike features as I wiped at my eyes. He didn't smile back, so I crossed my pale arms and glared at him, puffing out my cheeks. He blinked in surprise.
"What?" The boy…Ikuto, asked.
"Smile!" I ordered with a nod of my head. He shook his head.
"I don't smile," he said as his blue locks hit the sides of his face. I sighed. What an idiot! Everyone smiles! They have to! It's part of living. Doesn't he know that? You die if you don't smile. That's what they told me.
"I bet you do sometimes," I prodded, then I threw my arms out, "everyone smiles."
"You're adorable. how old are you?" He asked. I blinked. How old was I? I had to think for a moment.
"Six. Today's my birthday," I said with a huge smile.
"Happy birthday," he said, "watchya doing to celebrate?" He asked, stretching like a cat.
"I get to finally go home!" I said with a huge smile on my face. He looked surprised.
"What do you mean?" He asked, looking at me with a worrying expression. It was like that was a bad thing. Was it? I didn't know. I'd been here forever, since I could remember.
"Midori sent me here because she said I was crazy," I said sadly, looking down at his T-shirt.
"Why would she think that?" Ikuto asked, sounding very curious.
"Because someones she thinks weren't there told me what was going to happen," I said, trying to be cheerful. I didn't do very well. Sadness crept into my voice as I thought about what happened to Daddy. What happened that night that he was shot. They hadn't listened to me and it happened. Just like with the cat, and the bird, and the car. They had said they'd die. They did. Tears sprang into my eyes, but Ikuto pulled me from my sadness.
"Were they there?" Ikuto asked me. I nodded, and looked up at him.
"You believe me, don't you?" I asked, tugging at his shirt, scared he didn't. He nodded immediately, no hesitation. It made me smile.
"I think I do," he said slowly. I sighed in relief, letting go of his soft shirt. That was good. I wanted him to see me as honest and good. Which I was, no matter how often adults say I'm bad. I'm not.
I'm not bad because I have bad thoughts sometimes.
I'm not bad because people who others can't see sometimes tell me about bad things that will happen. The voices were good, not what people always said they were. They always told me how to save lives. Always.
I'm not bad if I try to stop the people the voices talked about from dying. That's what everyone said. I wasn't bad, I was just a new form of superhero.
"That's"-
Wait!
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"You hear voices?" I asked, surprised by this revelation. Maybe she was bad, maybe insane. But a killer? I still highly doubted that. It just didn't make any sense. Not this soft, pale, sweet little girl. Just watching her told me that.
"Not anymore. I used to though, a lot," the pinkette said, wrinkling her nose as she slowly opened her golden eyes to peer sheepishly at me. She looked worried that she had done something wrong. I shook myself mentally. How weird was this girl? She looked so sweet, but was her appearance lying?
No.
She was a good girl.
I sighed, shaking my head. "That's ok. It's not the first time I've heard about that. You know what it's called?"
The girl shook her heard. "I know it starts with a S."
I nodded. "Schizophrenia."
She smiled sweetly at me, and I had to smile back. How could I not smile back at this wonderful angel?
There was no way she could kill. I was a horrible person for even thinking it!
