Blood on my hands
I raised my trembling hands towards the dark night sky and looked at them. The red liquid on my skin was glowing by the fragile light of the moon. My pale hands were cold, just as cold as ice. In fact, it felt like I would be ice from head to toe, except my heart. My heart that should have stopped when I slew Rukia Kuchiki.
However, it was still beating, loud in my chest. Strange. And very frustrating. Was it a lie about a lover dying when his soul mate died? Obviously. Or maybe it didn't concern cases like this. Perhaps no one had thought that you could kill only person who makes you happy.
I set my hands in my lap and stared at them. Then I turned my look to a sword next to me. How weird. It looked like a giant kitchen knife. The kitchen knife that someone had used to cut flesh and bone, not caring about liquid of life that flew over him and his victim.
Eventually my eyes found a petite woman on the ground. Her short, dark hair had swung over her face. Good. Now I couldn't see her face, look at a skin that I had fondled just yesterday. When her face was covered by her hair, I wasn't able to see if her eyes were open. I didn't know if she stared at me with a judgmental look. I couldn't see if there was any fear in her empty eyes, fear that was born when she realised that she was going to meet death, at tonight and by the person that she had loved by her whole heart.
With shaking hands I touched a lethal wound in her chest and got immediately my fingertips wet and sticky by the vital fluid of hers. I needed more blood. I liked to get my hands dirty, covered by blood. I liked to have so much blood that it would paint my skin red forever. It would be right. Then every time, when I looked my hands, I would remember this night and a sin that I made. No, sins that I have made. Now I would go and take more lives, enjoy about terrible screams at the silent night, wet my toes in blood.
The coldness reached my heart by the realization. The woman front of me couldn't have changed into a Hollow by herself.
My hands moved to my cheeks, forward I wasn't able to move them. Could it even have helped? My touch didn't have an ability to turn my eyes back to normal. They were black now, as black as the night around the murder that I had caused. My hair wasn't orange anymore but the white as a snow that was falling from the sky, little drops of red here and there.
No one ever told me that a Hollow transformation could be transmitted to another person. Killing my light was bad enough, but now I knew that I was a guilty for this tragedy.
If I didn't exist, she wouldn't have become a Hollow and there would have had no need to kill her. To stab her chest with the blade that she gave to me, to hurt her with powers that I wouldn't have without her. She could live.
I burned my face to my hands, hands that had been painted with the blood of my loved one.
"Dad?" a small voice asked behind me. "What're you doing there?"
"No!" I shouted the fear piercing me and the bloodlust taking over the Hollow inside me.
I saw nothing but the blade. The sword that I grabbed, still wet for the blood of my previous victim. The weapon that will get more blood tonight, starting with my own son. My own flesh and blood.
