Eyes open wide and unblinking, he trembles uncontrollably.
Red, red. Everything was so red.
The tears fell unabashed as he clutched his bloodstained hands to his face. Falling to his knees he looked to the dull sky. He flinched as the first raindrops splattered across his face. The freezing drops fell heavier and heavier, cleansing and cleaning. The sun, hidden behind thick clouds refused to come out and shed its warming light over the terrifying scene.
Corpses lay stretched around the sobbing boy. Body after body lie piled together. Men, women and children lie clutched in each others arms.
Watching in horror as the rain washed the blood from his hands, the boy barely managed to contain the sobs that threatened to make him lose his mind completely. Finally the he stood hesitantly and took in the damage done. Not seconds after he looked at his surroundings he doubled over and hurled the contents of his stomach into the dirt at his feet.
The enormous trees loom menacingly over the tiny boy's thin frame. He was running, running as fast as his exhausted legs can take him. He was running away from the past, from his sins, his shame. Tears stream down his face and he can no longer hold back the biting sobs wracking his body. He can still smell the blood, still see it at the edges of his vision. The simple, oversized button-down shirt he wears to cover himself is quickly soaked.
In his mind they are chasing him. In his mind they are still there, his tormentors. Searching for him, rage and anger ringing as they roar his name. His thin arms hug his body and his mind tries to forget the lingering touches and the foul deeds.
He begins to feel the hunger eating away at his strength, forcing him to slow down. Ducking into a small cave the boy curls up and watches the pounding rain in fear. He fears that someone may leap out and take him back, take him back to that place. But his exhausted body can no longer remain awake and he falls into a troubled slumber.
The terrors of his mind dance around him, taunting and laughing. His hands remember the large blade he wielded, his hands remember every movement, every slash. His skin feels the splatter, the stickiness, the warmth. His eyes still remember the horrors, the blood, the people. His ears still recall the screams, the begging, the fear. Even in sleep the boy cannot escape, he cannot escape the pain and suffering, he cannot escape the acts he has committed.
His eyes snap open, he reaches for the comfort of the large knife he had taken with him. Stroking the ice cold blade, he watches his pitiful reflection in the bloodstained surface. Disheveled white hair, empty turquoise eyes. A single, solitary salty drop splashed against the blade snapping him from his reverie. Lifting his hand slowly he touched the cheek where the tear had fallen from.
There's too much pain and suffering locked away in the little boy's empty eyes, too many sins, too much shame. A tiny, soaked, shivering little boy curled in a tiny crevice in an enormous cliff, the very picture of shattered innocence.
Suddenly it was all just too much for the child to take, suddenly all he wanted to do was sleep in peace, sleep quietly without nameless phantoms chasing him.
Slowly lifting the knife he rested it against his tiny throat. Drew a soft, shuddering breath, and slashed.
A/N:...In case you didn't get it, this is just an idea of how Hitsugaya's human life may have ended.