Yet another edit, and a reload of this story. I had to put the bold and italics in, and all the old reviews don't fit anymore ; this is #1 in (hopefully) a series of POVs, and I'd like to encourage people to request characters, but I'm warning you that what goes on inside their heads might disturb you slightly O.o (no, I don't do happy stories. Well... I do sometimes when Kai helps me, but that's it.)
Summary: Life - despite all it's make it out to be - must be the most precious thing one can have... and people throw it away every day. Why? There are few who know the results of murderous thoughts, for most have already passed.
MALIK POV-I'm not insane, and I'm not unreasonable. It's just no one ever sees my side of the story. My life, beyond how insane I appear to be. It's not my fault that I became untrusting, and then drove myself to isolation. That was mostly my father. And, well, I've always wanted to kill the one who caused me all this pain. And I still want to kill him. Unfortunately, he is this pain.
It wasn't until recently that I found that the person – thing – that hurt me most wasn't my father. It was a liable accusation, for I never knew the truth. When someone chains you down, and cuts into your back with a burning knife, and even though you're gagged you try to scream. It's impossible. It's impossible not to try and scream, just like it's impossible to forgive them.
Though I wish I had... because once you kill them... you can't go back. You can't undo what you've done no matter how much you want or need to. You feel the need to forgive them, but they can't hear you. They don't care. And worse, they don't know... and they never will.
You ever think, wish you could do something to somebody, you don't really mean it, but you want it, for that second. You ever wonder what it's like doing those things and being granted that wish? It doesn't feel as good as you might think. In fact... it's horrible. Because of knowing that I kill people on whim has forced me to live in fear of myself. Especially when I let the thought through; the one thought that has crossed my mind every day of my life for as long as I can remember.
I just want to die.
I figure that if I just kill myself, they'll all forgive me. No one will criticize me, no one will bother me, no one will know about me. Frantically I try to erase the thought out of my mind, which just proves how much I really want to stay alive.
My God-forsaken attachment to this world forces me to stay here, where people can't trust me, and I can't trust anyone, myself included.
Now I can hear that taunting, coaxing voice that I loathe but still love to give in to at the back of my mind. Just telling me it can all end. I can give up my life; give up everything. No more torture, no more guilt. Such an inviting thought...
I almost let myself fall into the darkness, before pulling back out. No matter how much I want it, that's the selfish, coward's way out. Not mine. Not to say I'm not selfish, but to say that I'm not a coward, and I don't fear to live this life through.
You're don't do you?
There it is. That voice.
You're not a coward? I don't frighten you? I beg to differ. You killed your father, in your struggle to live, you directed me. The chains of your soul that you so neatly crafted for yourself bind and direct you, I don't.
I don't understand, and don't reply. He scoffs, and tries to pull me into the darkness once again. I can't escape the constant pull, and am forced to listen.
I don't influence you as much as you think. You have wanted everything I've ever done. To you, to those people you called "friends", even to your father. I did that, because you wished it.
Then why don't you die?
That answer is simple. You don't want it.
I sigh, pushing his voice out of my head again, but the thoughts induced by that voice linger. I know I don't hate him as much as I should. What he says is true, isn't it? I still want things, vengeful things that I wanted in the past. He'll do that. He'll help me. More than anyone else can or will.
Not that he cares. He just likes to hear the final scream of someone as they fall onto the ground. To step on them to hear the last pitiful noise they make. I hate thinking back on it, but I can't help it, or say that it's not enjoyable at the time. The rush of blood, of satisfaction as the victim falls to the ground. I've always liked to see people tortured. Or at least, as far back as I can remember I have...
Only one as weak as you would doubt yourself at this point in your life; there's no turning back from who you are.
Who you are isn't who I am. He tries to interrupt me, but I just continue. I have to ignore him. I can't trust you. My head's pounding now, throbbing with every beat of my heart. He must be furious.
You can't even trust yourself? You're more or a childish coward than you expected. I've given you what you've wanted, haven't I?
No. You're just using me. You and I both know that—
That WHAT child?
The voice pounds against my skull so hard I fall onto the floor stunned. Clasping my hands over my head I fall back into the dark nothingness that I now can't escape. That... I start, unable to grasp a thought. I try, but the pain was now loudly pulsating through my head and I could hardly stand the effort it took to think.
Is it? Can you really comfort yourself with that? Such a childish dream. Silently I cringe and as if I was gagged, I couldn't scream. Suddenly I felt my back burn with pain and again, tried to scream. My eyes were closed tightly as if I didn't want to see the floor that my head now rested on.
I'm not that weak. I won't give in. With one final effort I manage to free my mind from his grasp. Quickly I sit up and – light headed and flushed – I manage to calm myself, though I don't dare look at my surroundings. Finally, I sigh, relieved to have survived the encounter and that I didn't give in, that would have just hurt more, to know that another person died at my hands. It's been calming really, to realize what I've known for so long. That it's all lies. I look out the window into the night sky. Night. That's how long I've been sitting here. Last I checked it was mid-afternoon. I sighed deeply, trying to clear my thoughts, then I looked back in my mind at all the things I've done, trying to free something, anything of a good memory.
I don't prevail in finding anything, but I do still remember the day that my father... died. That was really the best day of my life. I can't really say now that I don't like the thought of him being dead, I don't think I would've survived this long with him as my dad. Not long at all, in fact he would have killed me, he said so himself.
I think back to what I thought before, maybe then, definitely then, I was under his influence. It's not impossible to forgive someone that's done that, just hard. I think wanting him dead was just the easiest way out. It probably was. The easiest road is the one most often taken. But it was kill or be killed. I shut my eyes momentarily and remember how much it had strained them to focus on the sunlight after 10 years of living underground. I take it for granted now, the sun and every passing day. I'll try not to; it's a gift really.
I open my eyes once more to look out over the town of Domino city from my room in my sister's apartment, climbing onto the bed I'd fallen off of in thought earlier. The lights of the town were beautiful, shimmering distortedly through the raindrops on my window. Rain? I thought, realizing it must have fallen when I'd been 'talking' to my other self.
Perhaps he did do me a favour. My thoughts return to my other self, knowing he's sitting at the back of my mind, waiting for my emotions to turn so he can take over. I wouldn't be alive if he hadn't appeared that day. He killed my father and attempted to kill my step-brother... but that day he helped me unbeknownst to himself.
I wouldn't have gotten a second chance... Father, I'm sorry, I'm not who you wanted me to be, but it's who I am. Somehow I feel like I've taken a weight off my chest, almost like I've been forgiven. All I can be is who I am.
Yawning, I sprawl myself out on the bed, glad to have made it through another day alive.-END-