AN;; Yep, this is inspired by Yanderenka. I am a huge LeleleP fangirl if you don't know. I have all his songs, previews, and demos, a physical copy of his best of album (and hoping to get his first two albums), and I stalk his blog, Mylist, and Piapro. =w=
Just to clear things up: This is not a songfic. I am not stealing ideas and lines, word for word. I am not expanding upon his story. This will not involve Len at all, not even as a supporting character. I hope I can craft an emotional story that delivers as much impact as the original song, but I am not copying the original song. Good? Onto the fic! Also, I recommend you read in half.
I.
Limp, unmoving. Silent. Cool skin, eyes glazed over.
"Over". It was over. It was over and done with and fare freaking well. Goodbye. Done. Stick a fork in it.
Her hand still lay there, grasping fruitlessly at the air, collapsed in exhaustion on the floor. Short hair tangled and mussed and strewn and stained. But her eyes were still open. Creamy, milky. Gorgeous little clover irises, staring blankly at the ceiling. Pretty white skin, but it was too white. Much much much too white. Without life, and stained. Tainted. Splotched and spattered with the most horrible crimson.
It was over over over over.
Her lips were parted eternally, still oddly pink and soft. Her last scream hung in the air. Vibrating, pulsating. Banging and ripping on your ear drums. Screams that made the blood ripple and shift, as if it were water. As if it were some pure, beautiful thing. Blood everywhere. Blood like paint. Blood like spilled milk. So don't cry. Don't cry, don't cry, don't you dare cry.
It's your fault.
So you don't have the right to cry now. You can't say you're sorry, that you don't mean it. Because you killed her, you murdered that girl while she screamed. She cared about you.
She didn't care. She didn't give a crap about anything!
Rin stared at the mess, her own blue eyes wide. Tears brimmed the edges, threatening to spill out at any time. But she couldn't cry. She had no right to cry, now. That knife in her hand, that red encrusted knife, told that story in an infinite loop, condescending and all-knowing and freaking annoying.
The concrete was cool and damp on her bare feet. The scarlet pool spread further, brushing her toes and staining more, more.
"Give me more, more! Tell me who you care about!"
"You." The memories flooded in. The dam in her eyes broke as well, letting loose all her emotions. "You you you you you..."
"I cared about you."
She began to tremble, shake. Her teeth chattered as if she were cold, and her back arched in. But she was not cold. She shivered and shook and sobbed as the blood flowed further from the dead girl. And the screams just wouldn't stop. They wouldn't stop ever ever. She clutched at her ears. Make it stop! Make it stop!
Stop it
Stop it
Stop it
Hurry
A final scream pierced the air, although who it was I could not say.