Uncovered Thoughts
Yup, another fic on Basta- hope it's good- pls review!
Beast. That was what they would call him. The heartless beast…
"Strike him in his breast Resa, the beast!"
Wasn't that what they old lady had said? Beast? Was he really? Did he really reflect those monsters…? He sighed. He shouldn't get worked up… he would snap and often, nothing good came out of the tantrums he threw… just like his presence…
"Beast!"
The word echoed in his mind and he held his head in pain- as though his hands would cause it to stop just like the way they ended lives. Evil? Was that the word to describe him? Dark? Ruthless? Demented? Did those qualities really suit him?
"You're a heartless man Basta, that's what makes you useful sometimes…"
Capricorn had stated them without hesitation- as if he ever hesitated- and he had expected him to be taking the praise with pride… but… it was quite the opposite… he hung his head low and stalked away punching the walls and sobbing his way through the night…
"… heartless…"
Was he really that hated… really that blank? Was he that type of person… a person who everyone would walk away from, without even sparing a seconds glance… a person who was feared?
"…makes you useful…"
Using? Was he using him through his pain… making him worse and worse until no such cure was able to free him from his bonds of pain and emotions… He held his head tighter as he settled in the hard chair which ached him… but when did he care? Pain has always been his friend… just like that bloody fire-eater had fire- The fire-eater. Dirtyfingers rather than Dustfinger. He remembered that night. That night so brightly. It was so vivid that it was as if it was yesterday since he slit that fire-eater's face… just like yesterday…
"Won't you enlighten us with you company some more?"
Company. When did anyone want his company? No one came near him ever since they learned he was under Capricorn's wing. They all gave him their backs until no hope whatsoever was found within him… and then grew his darkness… darkness that began to envelop him completely- darkness that the mere shade of black had frightened him severely and so was the time black cats were a danger.
He remembered his first kill. He was twelve and Capricorn had demanded him to kill the peasant in front of him. He remembered the dagger so solid in his shivering hand and the weeping, thin, tortured man who begged at his feet… begged at the feet of a mere twelve year old… But as he was ordered, with a whole lot of hesitation, the dagger had slit through the man and Capricorn had demanded him not to leave until the man was dead… the man's heart had stopped his thudding and the only sound heart was Capricorn's angry breathing and his laughter that ringed with lunacy and craziness.
"Weak! Weak and worthless! How do you expect to become a man if you can't kill! How!"
Hadn't Capricorn once told him that? Hadn't he? When he was so fragile that he couldn't even last a minute without weeping since he saw the ghost of his mother lingering at the corner of his eyes… and so was he fear of the dead rise… fear of the white ladies… fear… of himself…
His tantrums got worse as he got older and his fear of objects had interfered with luck which made him even more deranged and estranged. He remembered Capricorn demanding to know the reason of his actions… of his mood swings and obsessions… he yelled at the Barn Owl demanding… and he was answered…
"The boy is filled horrors and he must be taken care of gently… if he continues the way of a soldier or whatever you plan of making him… it will ruin him and his heart will grow blacker and his symptoms of out-of-ranged emotions will get even worse…"
Capricorn had not cared for his emotional health. He kept him training… killing… killing until he had forgotten why he had even joined Capricorn when he was barely ten.
"…to avenge your poor mother and father…"
Wasn't that the reason? To avenge his mother? His mother whom he saw getting stabbed by the soldiers… and his father… who was thrown into the flames… burnt alive…? The only memory of her was of her cleanliness… cleanliness became another obsession… he feared of seeing her again… eyeing him with such disappointed eyes that he wished death and torture in its place…
"The father has refused me his daughter… burn the house down,"
He had done as ordered. He had set it on fire. He watched as the flames licked themselves up the house… he heard the screams of pain… he smelt the burning flesh… his burning flesh.
The pain had been unbearable and he saw in horror as his own skin was getting eaten up. He blew and it got worse… he hit it… it killed even more… he remembered seeing the smiling faces of his 'peers' who saw the idea of him of getting hurt as a play of satisfaction… how he hated them.
Hate. The mere word made his lungs burn. His blood boil. He remembered. The day they had mocked him of his luck symptoms and beliefs… two men had died because of his anger… never again did they make him angry… and for the same reason as getting out of control did he try to keep his sadness private. When he felt the bulge of tears in his neck did he immediately run away… keeping his tears to himself…
He clutched his head tighter and tighter- he felt as though it would get smashed due to the pressure he was putting it with! He opened his brimmed eyes and saw his blurry legs before him. He wiped them angrily away and stared at the wall ahead of him. A chuckle escaped his pursed lips. It grew louder and louder that he was laughing his heart's content out- and sobbed his heart's content out. He cried and laughed. Two things- complete opposites- did he succeed in doing. He laughed out of bitterness and he cried out of hopelessness. He saw her from the corner of his eye. Her white cloak. Her white skin. Her white hair. Her white eyes- white! White! White! It drove him mad! So mad that he had no idea why it was covering his chest! She was watching his every move with an act of pity- pity! Not love! Pity! Pity that her only child was a lunatic! He held his head tighter and knocked the chair out of sight- yet his knees gave away. His laughter died out and his weeps were heard.
Why? Why am I crying? Why? Why?
His mind was blank. Blank and dark. As dark as his heart. His mother stood there… motionless…
"Why are you standing there? Why? Stop it! Stop! Enough! I've had enough! Enough…" his voice cracked. "Help me… help me…"
He was crazy. He was just angry a second ago and now he begged. Begged…
"Help me… plea…se… love me…"
Tears poured out of his eyes with no hesitation that he slumped onto the ground- his tears endless. Love… what was that world? A lie? An action? A feeling? Was it a hug? Or laughs? Or smiles? He never felt it… never… never because whenever he tried to at least meet with love… it would push him away… shattering him… breaking him more than what he was already… beyond repair… beyond any hope…
Love was his hope… and he never got it. All of a sudden his weeping had seized and he stood up straight. He brushed himself and wiped his face with his sleeve and quietly made his way downstairs…
She watched… watched with wide, pitying eyes. Her son… his actions were all her fault… completely…
Basta walked into the kitchen and sat on the chair… his mind completely blank… he stared at the window… hope… his hope…? He flicked out his knife and stared at it from angles then position it at his throat… he felt its cool metal against his burning skin… should he try it… or should he not…? No… hope could be found… couldn't it?
An: hope it was good- personally the ending didn't really please me- i'm just no good with endings... oh well- pls review!