Hello. I'm here for an update. This has been reformatted (Thank you very much) as the original formatting does not work on monitors very well. Or so I've been told. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
Characters belong to Nintendo.

How does it feel, to have your fate decided for you? To have everyone feel scared to be near you, and shrink away at the mere sight of you. It was one person, or so they told me: I can't remember any of it. I woke up with a small and terrified Lemmy demanding to know if I was all right. News spreads fast when someone dies, that's for sure. Lemmy is convinced I didn't kill anyone; I'm not so sure anymore. I'm treated as somewhat of a hot potato – no one wants to deal with me and would rather throw me to the next person.

They react to me, how they would react if a rather large bug landed on their face: fear, unparalleled, unmitigated; terror. It is an unfortunate coincidence that the staff member who I have supposedly taken care of had upset Lemmy earlier that day with his outrageous attitude towards my older, smaller brother. This was a blame that could not be diverted, everyone knows Lemmy and I are closer than anything; the facts are like a book, waiting to be read. Burn the book. How could I have done such a thing, and yet not remember any of it? This question lingers in the back of my mind like a buzzing bee: perpetually buzzing, buzzing.

I can't sleep, too much buzzing. I lie awake, so much buzzing … My mind, a thing of unrest; I'm scared. If I fall asleep, who will be the next person, lying dead at my feet? Another staff member? Bowser? My siblings? ... Lemmy ...? I can't bear the thought of the ultimate, and so I lie; I lie awake, waiting for the dark to become light once again. Lemmy is worried about me; he's well aware of the fact I'm distancing myself from him. He knows – he knows I'm not sleeping. He's trying to help me, but how can I let him. He is convinced I am harmless; he doesn't know the threat I pose, or at least, he refuses to face it.

I hear it, the knocking: someone is at my door, I ignore it. The knocking slowly becomes louder, more insistent; it almost drowns out the buzzing. "Iggy?"

It's Lemmy: he's trying to make sure I'm alright, no doubt. I haven't slept: I'm sitting on my bed; staring at the wall, which is slowly distorting due to my lack of sleep.

"Iggy, please, let me in?"

I look towards the door, tears have started to form like crystal, obscuring my vision.

"Come on, Iggy."

I drunkenly stumble for the door, trying not to fall over the mess that is my floor. With great difficulty, I grab the handle, which is stiff from its lack of use; open the door, and look down. Lemmy is staring back at me with large, concerned eyes.

"Hi," is all I manage, but even then my voice cracks. Lemmy notices and pushes his way passed me, into the room."You look terrible, have you not slept at all?"

I shake my head with a quivering lip and make my way to the cabinet on my left in order to take a look in the small, cracked mirror lying on its top. I see a broken teen, staring back with a look of abject misery. Who is this, staring at me? Who has stolen the space within my mirror, and called it his own? How I wish I could take his place, within the solitude of reflection. I flinch upon Lemmy taking my hand.

"When was the last time you ate, even? I haven't seen you in over a day."

Fresh tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I realise just how much I have been neglecting the one who cares about me the most. I look away, shamefully.

"Not in a while, I guess," Lemmy continues, before helping me sit down on my bed.

I lift him onto my knee. "I've lost track," I admit with a grimace. I hold Lemmy close, trying to apologise for my neglect.

"Iggy ... You can't let them do this to you; you can't do this to yourself."

I shake my head once more. "I ... they ..." Lemmy puts a hand up to my face and I sigh upon contact.

"You need to eat something. You're wasting away."

I turn my head, frowning. "I can't, I can't face them. It's too painful. Too much judgement; too much hate."

"You're not eating because you don't want to see our family?"

I nod, as the tears threaten to overwhelm me; I feel strangled sobs begin to form in my throat and Lemmy puts his arms around me. "Okay, if you don't want to see them ... then I'll simply bring you some food."

My eyes lighten for one moment, and Lemmy catches it. He smiles, "Did you not think of that? This is what I'm for."

I feel myself grin for the first time in three days. "Th-thank you, Lemmy." He hops off my leg, weaves his way through my clutter-filled room, and to my door, before turning to face me.

"I'll be back in a moment, and I'll bring coffee: you clearly need it." With that, he leaves the room and is gone.

I sit motionlessly on the bed, watching the wall with interest as it shimmers and changes. I feel somewhat uplifted at the thought of food, but it doesn't last; as time passes I begin to feel paranoia creep its way into my brain once more.

Is Lemmy coming back? Of course he is, he would do anything to help me. I hope to wash the doubtful feelings away, and so make my way to my bathroom. It's pitch-black inside, forcing me to turn the light on. I grimace under the artificial light as it blinds me for a moment. As the harshness begins to ease, I look to my right, towards the sink with a large mirror above it. I hesitantly make my way closer to it, and stand to its side, psyching myself up to take a glance; knowing it won't be a pleasant experience.

After taking a deep breath, I gingerly inch my head into its view, and cringe at the results. In the gloom of my room, viewing myself in a small, cracked mirror seemed insignificant. The darkness had weakened the impact of how terrible I look. Here, I am exposed to the full reality. I step into the full view of the mirror, bracing myself: my hair is unkempt, my glasses are dirty, and I seem to have lost a considerable amount of weight.

These things seem minor, however, when compared to my face itself: severely heavy bags have embedded themselves into it, making the whole thing seem to sag under their weight. I have trouble even recognising myself for a moment – the grim reality that is my deteriorated form, coupled with the fact my own reflection is distorting due to my exhaustion, makes me seem demonic. Tear stains litter almost every inch of my face, and fresh tears begin to form. I had thought that surely I would eventually run out of tears, but they had just continued to flow; forming a sea of misery. I am tired of crying, it has already gotten to the point where it is even an effort to do so.

Suddenly, the sight of my face disgusts me. I angrily take my glasses off and fumble with the tap, attempting to grab it as my vision wavers. After some time I finally manage to gather enough of an equilibrium to grab it, and the sudden cold feel of the metal sends soothing shivers down my spine. I turn the tap, which seems as reluctant to move as my door handle was, and finally my reprieve begins to flow.

I wait for the water to heat up, and splash it over my face and hair, hoping to cleanse the filth that has latched itself upon me; hoping all my problems will be washed away with it. I bury my head in the nearest towel, and, for what seems like an eternity; simply allow it to obscure my vision. If it is there long enough, will the world change around me? Will I be in a better place, with Lemmy by my side? Will I wake up from this terrible, terrible nightmare? My hopeful expression falters as I take it off and notice nothing has changed.

I use the towel to clean the worst of the dust and tears off of my glasses, before I hear something outside: Lemmy appears to be kicking my door. "Iggy, this stuff … there's too much of it; I can't get in!"

I feel a smile play at my lips, and hastily make my way to open the door. I notice Lemmy is filled with plates and a single coffee mug. I take the mug out of his hand.

"Thank you," He says with a sigh. "I was getting close to dropping this stuff."

I catch a sudden flash of light blue hair as I close the door behind him, but I dismiss it. Lemmy crosses over to my cabinet and, reaching his arms as high as they can stretch, places two toast filled plates on top. "I hope toast is alright."

My stomach growls loudly in response and he giggles.

"That answers that … Can I open a window? It's really stuffy in here," He asks, while grabbing his wand out of his shell. I simply nod in response, still staring hungrily at the toast.

Lemmy conjures a ball and uses its height to reach my window, and he draws back the curtains in order to open it. I cringe and cover my eyes as the light from outside lunges aggressively for my eyes after so much time. The light from the bathroom suddenly seems as though it had been pleasant. A minute passes before my eyes finally adjust, and I wander over to the cabinet, pick up both plates, and make for my bed. I sit down and pat it, indicating for Lemmy to do the same.

He sits down beside me and takes his own plate from me with a grin, before putting his head on my arm. His hair tickles me slightly, but I don't mind: anything for Lemmy. I pick up the first slice, and begin staring at it suspiciously, before curiously nibbling at one of the crusts. After swallowing, my stomach demands more with an angry roar. Lemmy begins laughing beside me.

"You had better appease him, he sounds pretty empty."

I nod with a small smile and begin half-shoveling toast into my gullet, without really even tasting it. After one slice I stop to catch my breath, as it suddenly feels as though my chest is about to burst open. Lemmy gestures to the cup on the floor beside me and I remember the coffee. I grab the mug, carefully lift it, and place it to my lips. The warm, sweet liquid rolls down my throat; burning me slightly on the way down. Its heat instantly finds its way into the pit of my stomach and begins spreading a feeling of warmth throughout my body. I feel myself waking up - to some degree - due to this, but not only that … The coffee is also incredibly sweet.

"Did you put sugar in this?" I ask my brother, before taking another gulp of the hot, sweet solution.

"Yes, a lot of it." He smiles at me and I put a hand on his back gratefully. "I also made it relatively strong, just to stop you from passing out today."

I find myself grimacing at the reminder of sleep.

"You do eventually have to sleep, Iggy. You can't just stay up – it's not healthy." I look at him sadly, he doesn't understand. "I know you're scared, but really, if you want to prove to everyone that you didn't kill that man, this isn't the way to show it." His expression lightens slightly. "I could even sleep here, with you, to keep you company."

I understand that Lemmy is right, as he rarely isn't. Looking like some sort of insane patient certainly wouldn't help my case, but I'm still terrified at the thought of sleep.

"Before I convince anyone else I didn't murder that man, I need to convince myself, first."

"You didn't do it, Iggy."

"B-but, Lemmy ... the facts, they all point straight to it."

"I don't think you would ever intentionally kill anyone, Iggy, do you?"

I frown for a moment, looking down at him, and place my mug on the floor before answering. "N-no," I lie, "But I woke up, and he was dead right beside me in a pool of his own blood."

"I don't know what to say to make you snap out of this, Iggy."

I frown and stare at the messy floor: I hate arguing with Lemmy. I want to believe that I didn't do it, if anything just to make him happy, but I can't. "Let's just forget about it, okay?" I say. Lemmy nods at me sadly.

"Sure, I suppose dwelling on it won't help, anyway." Lemmy looks upset, and I hate him being upset even more than I hate arguing with him. I need to say something to cheer him up.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" He perks up on hearing I am willing to go outside, which I'm not, but I will if it makes him feel better.

"Okay!" He grabs my hand and helps me to stand up, his face brimming with excitement.

I quickly gulp down the last of the coffee and let him lead me to the door.

"Do you want to go out into the grounds, or something?" He chirps with a melodious tone. I ponder this for a moment. Perhaps leaving the castle would be best. Then again, maybe not. For now, I may as well see what happens.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," I answer, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. "Oh, and, Lemmy?" He looks at me with curious eyes, "I would love it if you would stay here with me tonight."