It sleeps…
As it sleeps, it dreams. As it dreams, it remembers.
It remembers how much it was wronged.
As it remembers, it wonders, why?
Why was it wronged so? It had done nothing to deserve such torment.
It all began long ago, before it became a feral beast.
He thought he was given power for a reason: to help others. That was all he wanted to do, and everything he did was for others, he thought not for himself.
He was desperate. He was desperate for acknowledgement, for approval, for even the smallest words of praise
Yet all he got were boos and jeers, insults and beatings.
He was hated for trying to contribute. He was detested simply because of who he was.
They called him disgusting, evil, and despicable.
And the more they tormented him, the further he was driven into despair.
The further he was driven into despair, the closer he became to being consumed by darkness.
And soon he was driven so deep that he lost all his divinity.
Yet there was solace for it…
The one in this body was also wronged
The one in this body was scared, alone, and as desperate as it was.
The one in this body was despondent, furious, jealous, and distraught.
The one in this body was as consumed with negative emotions as it was.
It had found a kindred spirit.
They were wronged, they were hated, they tried so hard to be good, to help, to love…
But if people could not see them as anything but evil,
Then why not become what they were expected to be?