Misery
The shadows engulf the city as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. But you don't need to see the light dimming to know that night is falling, do you? You can tell. You know from the way the air chills with people's mistrust, and how their silence becomes the loudest sound. You can tell that night is falling from the sound of hurried footsteps of the people to their doors, and the sound of locks sliding home mere moments after the door is closed. You sense it in the way that their faces freeze up, and how even the friendliest person in the noon-day light is now wary to greet you.
You glide off the street and into a side alleyway to better observe the goings-on of the night, those which the normal inhabitants of this world are unaware of except in nightmares. You can hear two boys, neither sounding over twenty, off to the side. Their voices are joined shortly by that of a young girl, who sounds as if she's in pain. You can hear the laughter and the shriek of the woman, then footsteps as the boys run from the scene of their crime. You drift past the girl, now sitting crumpled against the wall, thighs coated in blood and sweat. She looks up at you through dead eyes as you sweep past her without a second glance, ignoring the quite obvious signs of what transpired. You've been in that position before, and you have no intention of bringing the memories back.
As you continue walking, out of the corner of your eye, you see a light flare up. Seconds later a cloyingly sweet smell floats past you. You try not to inhale, barely able to control the flash of disgust that wells up in you. You have no time to waste on people who aren't even lucid. If they were in this predicament already, you would think that they would know enough not to blow their money on drugs, wouldn't you? But still they do it.
You shake your head, trying to clear your mind, brush the strands of your hair out of your face, and continue on your way. After a few more minutes you come to your destination. The store. This is a place where, for the right price, anything could be bought. You walk slowly into the store, wincing slightly at the loud creaking noise that the door makes as you enter. The shop is in much worse repair than it was the last time you were here but, after all, that is to be expected. You've been away for quite a long time. You stroll leisurely through the aisles looking for the owner. You won't find her, no one ever will again, but you can't know that. After all, you've been gone awhile. Later, you notice something you missed the last time you looked: blood. Spattered all around the front desk is the unmistakable dark, red-brown pattern of old blood. With a light sigh, you assume the worst—and you are right—and continue to search. You had asked the owner to take care of something before you had to leave, and now you are here for it. But you, of course, don't know where she hid it, so you have to try and find it by yourself—And then you see it. A smile flits across you face, the first expression of true happiness to cross it in years. You reach to pick it up, feeling as if you are meeting an old friend again after an eternity of being apart. Well, in a way, you are. This is all that you have left of him, when e verthing is said and done. As you pick it up, you realize with displeasure that your hand is shaking. You shrug it off as adrenaline, which is indeed pulsing through you, but inside you know that you're lying to yourself. You can't help but wonder for a moment what he would think, if he could see this. You blink furiously, banishing the thought from your mind. He's dead now, he can't do anything. Your hands curl more tightly around it, and you slip in into your belt, rearranging your shirt around it so that not even the slightest glimpse of silver can be seen. Satisfied, you turn to leave, ignoring the cash register completely. That is another thing about that has changed, isn't it? You would have never done that before.
As you drift lightly back through the alley, you walk by a haunt of the boys who were smoking. Though you see a figure lying in a corner, but you continue on your way. But then you turn. There is something so eerily familiar about the child lying there that you can't help but look again. It could be the sky blue eyes or the blond hair, so light gold it's nearly white, or the face so like your own it scares you. It could be any of those, yes, and yet that wasn't what made you look again. What made you see, truly see, was what you saw past that. What you saw was the way that the boy's hair was matted with sweat and blood, the shadowy bags under his eyes and the terror in his expression as he stares into nothing. You turn again, but this time with a heavy heart, and murder in your eyes.
But the night is coming to an end. Doors are unlocking, and the air is warming. As the people who inhabit the day begin to leave their homes, you notice something. And what you see fills you with such rage that your hands shift to where the weapon that you just acquired is resting, and your fingers wrap around it. You're wondering why. Why do they do that? Why do they smile, even after all that has happened? Do they not know? But you already know the answer to that, don't you? They do know. They are completely aware of what happens in the Night. But they don't care. They would rather pretend that nothing is wrong and go on with their happy, perfect, stupid lives. That's the worst part, the thing that bothers you the most. They know, but they don't care.
But that will change. You will change it if no one else will. You will make them suffer as much as you did, and as others still do. You smile slightly, but this time, unlike the former smile, there is no warmth this time. This is a sick, twisted smile, one that would terrify anyone who viewed it. But you don't care. All you think about is how to go about it; how to inflict upon them so much pain that they feel like you do. It'll be hard of course, but you can do it. You've gotten very good at planning. You have to be, to be able to break out of the highest security prison on the earth and not have been caught within a week. But you can't get caught. If you get caught, they'll put you in a prison so secure that no matter how much you planned; there'd be no getting out. But you can do it. You know can. You can make them hurt like you. Misery sure does love company, huh?
You pull the silver blade out of its hiding place near your skin, cradling it lovingly in your hand. Your eyes soften as they remember the previous owner of the sword. An image flashes briefly through your mind, nothing concrete, just a flash of black hair and red eyes, and you can't help but wonder for the second time, what he would say if he knew what you were planning on doing. But it doesn't matter. You have to do it. You will make these people feel. You won't let them ignore what is happening anymore. That has continued for too long already. You start with surprise as you realize another reason for what you're about to do. You don't want to be alone anymore, you figure out. You no longer want to be the only real person in a crowded room. You want to live, to be alive with people who are more than just masks and laughter. You can't help the wry smile that crosses your face as you realize what a hypocrite you're being, but at the same time, you can't really bring yourself to care.
You look down at the weapon again, your hand drifting across the scale-patterned hilt, resting on the intricate design of a dragons head that connected the blade to the rest of the sword, and to banish the thoughts of the past that are about to cloud your head, you stand. You slip the sword back into the sheath that is strapped to your hip, and walk purposefully towards the center of the city, ready to put your plan in motion. And you tell yourself that you won't stop until it is finished. You promise this to yourself. There will be no rest for you until you have made them suffer. Only then, when they are broken and bleeding at your feet, crying and begging for you to have mercy and kill them, just make it end, then, and only then, will they feel what you have felt. Only then may you rest in peace for all of eternity with your love. And with that thought you step into the sunlight, ready to kill.