She`d ran fast and hard, as far as she could from that room with energy she didn`t have, fleeing from the transgression and sister she doubted she`d ever truly be able to face (a poor excuse for a huntress unable to atone for their past mistakes).
Ruby was exhausted, not from the battles she`d had against the Grimm in the Forever Fall forest, not from going without sleep for who knows how long, and, though she would be ashamed to admit it, not from her sins of that day - not to say it wasn`t acting as its own circle of hell.
It was the unrelenting storm. She didn`t know how long she`d been outside, but she was long past shivering, that hood pulled far over her eyes (as red as the mess you`ve made here) protecting her the best it could, the wind cutting through her clothing like a knife. She was walking in opposition to the wind, her mind unable to understand that that was a problem.
At first, as she`d ran, she`d felt her heart beat to a point she`d thought it`d burst. She`d felt her breaths so short she had been unconvinced that she was breathing at all. She`d felt snow fling itself into her eyes, adding to the tears flowing freely. Ruby didn`t know when she`d stopped running, nor when she`d stopped feeling these things. She now only noticed two things: The cold, and the Guilt.
The cold was slowly draining her strength away, sapping away her reserves of mental energy as she was all but out of the physical variant, leaving her head in torment. The Guilt constantly beat against her mind as her defenses fell further and further away. Ruby was far past the point of wanting to give up this fight, but it was an involuntary battle, and she could only wait until it inevitably overtook her. She tried her best not to focus on it, though this was becoming increasingly difficult as she began losing focus on everything else.
Her vision was failing; the whiteness around her the same blurry mass she`d been in since she`d left that room, but no longer could she see through the haze of the storm that had grown too thick. Looking down, she could only see the vague outlines of her blood-stained hands and of the knife she`d never let go, the red that stained her only fueling the Guilt, it pounding on her harder with that monstrous shade plastered in her mind, the worst weapon she`d ever have used against her. Somewhere in the part of her brain that still worked rationally, she`d expected at one point to walk into a building or a tree or some type of solid object, but she just continued on, seeing nothing but the white of the snow and the sinful red of her being. Ruby was beginning not to care.
Her hearing was leaving her; where once she`d heard the raging winds around her beat against her ears and causing an audible flapping in her cape and hood, the noise had dimmed and all she heard was a faint pulsing behind her ears (your blood, you weren`t the one to have it stolen). Even her breathing seemed suppressed, and she was finding it hard to confirm she was doing it at all. Ruby decided this wasn`t too big of a problem at this point.
She could no longer feel her body; she knew she had blood, as well as tears, frozen to the skin along her face, neck, and hands (the tears didn`t match the blood in meaning or volume, it hadn`t been enough). She knew the weather was harsh, the snow near blinding in its thickness, but she was starting to have trouble keeping her eyes open to know what was going on in reality. The blizzard continued to beat on her but her body grew numb to it, the cold now seeming to stem from her mind rather than her environment. Ruby`s thoughts drifted from these concerns.
She knew above all else she no longer had to energy to go on. Looking down at her hands the umpteenth time this night, she wondered how she still carried the knife (not a virgin blade like Crescent Rose, it was a tool meant for murder). Earlier, before her senses had dulled, she was gripping it with whitened knuckles and she wondered if through her inability to feel fingers she was still grasping it the same. Ruby liked these thoughts, though she couldn`t figure out why.
Ruby Rose collapsed, but she was unsure of how she knew. She was having trouble holding her eyes open (opened while you kill yet closed while you die, as a true coward), the top of her world a red from the hood she hid behind while the rest a white of hellfire. The cold no longer cut through her like a blade, it ignited her, but instead of what would have been the blissful heat of an inferno it only brought with it the torturous pain of the storm.
The last of her strength was fading, and she felt the gongs of her Guilt beating against her, so impossibly hard that she was sure her skull would shatter. Her vision, regardless of her eyes now being frozen shut, was fading to that red as she heard something in the snow, a fuzzy crunch resembling a footstep was in front of her. The pulsing was so encompassing that she hadn`t heard them until they seemed to be so close.
Her eyes refused to work and stayed closed on her, her mouth unable to open and ask the question of who, and, most important, her limbs unable to reach up to push them away, far from a murderer still holding the blade with a life frozen to it.
As her consciousness was slipping, she felt what she`d thought she never would again. Arms wrapped around her and from the points of contact, she felt blissful warmth flow into her being, giving her just the smallest amount of strength to help fuel her fight against the Guilt. The last thing she remembered was losing that fight.
Warmth, a gift, a reward after what you did.
She lay in what felt like a tub, or some sort of basin, with her body enveloped in water heated to an intense degree, almost scalding hot, though she wasn`t complaining. She found she couldn`t move, however, nor would her eyes open, that horrid shade of red staring at her from behind her eyelids. She couldn`t hear anything other than her own breathing, which she supposed was a step up from before. At least, that`s all she heard physically.
Usually, the voice in Ruby`s head was always the same volume, even if the tone changed. It never had been any louder or softer, and, most of the time, it was in full control of Ruby, working almost like a mouth nobody else could hear. Her thoughts reflected her own feelings.
But now, her head was a battlefield of soft screams and echoing whispers, making noises that she could feel vibrate down her spine. There were what seemed like hundreds in the background whose voices toppled over one another, trying to get Ruby to listen, the Guilt now breaking her unresisted as if a song beating against her head. She couldn`t catch their words other than the passing "Die," and "Murderer," the rest being indistinguishable mutterings.
Then there were the few who seemed they could be standing right next to Ruby. While not all of these were louder, these voices came across much more clearly, and focusing in on one was easy to her, but she regretted listening to each one as soon as she did.
One was telling her Yang had been destined to be killed; her actions only delaying the inevitable, as well as have taken a life that otherwise would have been long and happy, even if sinful. This voice pushed the memories of Ruby`s actions to her still closed eyes, forcing her to re-see what had happened (suffer for your transgressions against the lost). She once again felt panic push to her legs, but her limbs were still unresponsive, and she was unable to flee as she had before. It took a few moments for Ruby to force away the voice along with the visions, but she eventually managed, relieved until another voice took its place.
The next took the approach of "An eye for and eye, and a life for a life" (balance is dead, only another life to revive it). This voice made chills run down Ruby`s spine, and she made a mental note to ignore this one for sure should it ever return, likely as she could still hear the previous whisper`s mutterings in the background along with the others. Nonetheless, it did make her feel fear for her own death, another step up from her state from earlier. After a moment of consideration, she wondered if the man she`d murdered had felt similar emotions. This thought just made the voices as a whole louder, so she did her best to ignore it for now.
There were others, one saying that this could become a routine to drown out the memory (lost in the void, you will soon forget), another with the critique that her kill was messy and she needed to refine the act, as if an art (potential in extremity). At these thoughts she once again felt the knife in her hand, apparently never having left her side. She was still unable to move and couldn`t bring her eyes to open and inspect it like she felt like she owed it.
She listened to each one in turn, trying to find her own voice, the one she could trust. She needed the voice that reflected her thoughts and desires, and not just one that tried to control her, or fill her with such negative feelings.
Whether or not she found that voice was up for debate, though she was eventually greeted by a voice bearing the opinion of justice and morality.
He was a monster. He deserved to die. All your life you`ve trained to become a huntress, to become a hero. You wanted to protect people who couldn`t protect themselves. His dying was the same as the slaying of any creature of Grimm. No tears should be shed, no death mourned.
She didn`t know if this voice belonged to her, but unlike the other voices she had pushed away, she found herself unable to do the same thing to this one.
Either he was slaughtered, or your sister was. An innocent or a serial killer. Beasts deserve what they inflict. A huntress would work towards a future where those who cannot protect themselves can live without worry.
But how was Ruby any better? She did what she thought would have been such a wrong if done by someone else. If beasts deserve what they inflict, shouldn`t the same apply to her?
There is a difference. He planned to kill, he was excited by it. A killer without Guilt is a monster, no more and no less. You understand it is wrong to kill, and that`s why you did it.
Ruby wasn`t stupid, she knew listening to voices in her head was crazy. However, this voice made her feel... Justified? Morally justified, in her actions. The longer she listened to this voice, the more the other voices began to fade into the background.
Morality is subject to interpretation, the definitions of justice and injustice varying from one creature to the next. It is those who do not have these definitions, who instead have the world split into what positively and negatively impacts them in exclusivity, who are truly immoral by not upholding any type of greater good or belief.
The Guilt had faded, and the voices were now silent except for this one. Even through her current paralysis, Ruby managed a smile in relief.
They`ll be back in time. I`ll teach you how to converse with them. I`ll teach you how to sort through the voices to find reason and logic. I`ll teach you to clutch your own ideals and feelings so they aren`t lost in the void. Above all, I will help.
Ruby needed a friend right now, somebody to trust. She felt the voice slowly work its way into her heart and settled, relieving her of, for the time being, that red which had burned into her mind. Her sight faded to a blissful blackness, and she slept. Whether or not it was her voice before, it was now.
He didn`t know what was going on, or why she, of all people, was covered in human blood. What he did know was that he was lucky to have found her when he did and that she was in a horrible condition, leading him to ignore whatever accusations sprung into his mind.
She hadn`t acknowledged him when he had called her name in that street, nor, after he had realized just how bad of a condition she was in, when he`d rushed up to her side. She`d collapsed, sending a wave of panic through him, and he`d immediately picked her up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman`s carry.
He didn`t know how long she`d been in this storm, but she felt as cold as the weather. Not a good sign. There was a knife in her hand she was clutching tightly. He spent the briefest of moments trying to get her to drop it, but that wasn`t happening - her grip on it was way too hard. A hospital would probably alert the police if they saw something like this, and since he didn`t know the whole story, that wasn`t an option.
So he set off towards his "home," praying she`d be alright, pretending any and all doubts his mind conjured up to create a story that would explain her state were unfounded and unfair. He couldn`t ignore the knife or the blood, but he could lie to himself and act like he could.
As soon as they were inside - the trip being only a few blocks but nonetheless too long - he`d rushed her to the bathroom, putting her in the tub and turning the water to the hottest temperature it would go. He`d plugged up the drain and let it fill to the brim, making sure to only keep Ruby`s head above the water, not bothering to remove her clothes, more out of convenience than out of concern for her modesty. He briefly considered trying to pry that knife from her hands again, for his sake rather than hers, but decided against it. With how she was with weapons, he knew that no force on the planet could tear her away from one she made a connection with, no matter what it might have been covered with.
The water was slowly turning a muted red-brown as the heated liquid around her melted the frozen blood from her form and the slush that had worked its way into her clothes. He ended up draining the tub and refilled it to keep the water clean, making sure the shower head was running as he did it so she would continue getting the heat her body was deprived of.
He went to find a glass from the kitchen, filled it with water from the sink, and set it on the counter near her. He then looked at her one more time before leaving the room. He had a lot of research to do before she woke up.
Ruby awoke only after her head had sunk just a bit too low, and she began spurting water out of her nose. She still felt tired, but that`s probably better than the alternative: dying. Looking around, she was in an unfamiliar setting, and in a delightfully warm tub, considerably cooler than when she was conscious of it in her sleep paralysis state.
The first thing she noticed was the Guilt beating against her head once more. It was dull compared to how it had been earlier, but nonetheless it was there and beating, much like a second heart. Ruby blinked - ah, eyes working is good - and ended up having to hold her head in her hands from the sudden flash - not as good. When she had momentarily her eyes, where usually light was dimmed through her eyelids and gave her a comforting dark grey or black, now all she saw was that red. The horrible colour of that man, that sin...
She shook her head, this causing the Guilt to beat harder. She wanted to screw her eyes shut to try to take her mind off it and distance the pain, but when she saw the red it just beat worse. After a moment of clutching her head with her eyes wide open, she remembered that voice she heard, telling her the Guilt was a gift. She almost laughed, before recalling the rest of that conversation and instead opted to shudder. Speaking of that state, had she been dreaming? There were no voices she could hear now, hopefully meaning it was just an auditory hallucination. Not minding that now, Ruby decided to keep her eyes open for as long as possible. Who needs blinking, right?
She was incredibly confused. Moving to get up, she found that she was sore all over, and her joints screamed as she reached to pull herself out of the tub, but they still worked, and the pain was, at the very least, better than the numbness. Looking to her left hand she noticed the knife was still there. With a yelp, she tossed it across the room, it landing on the sink`s counter a few feet away. Her hand was sore, more so than the rest of her body, and she recalled holding onto it as tightly as she had in the snow.
After she was free of the tub, Ruby made to call out for whoever had brought her here, but found her throat as ragged as a desert. Noticing a cup on the counter, she rushed to it without thinking, almost slipping from the water she`d brought out of the tub, and downed it quickly. She refilled it at the sink two more times before being satisfied. The knife still sat there, and Ruby felt as if it was staring at her.
Ignoring it, she looked around the room in search of a towel - she didn`t want to mess up somebody`s floor after they went through the trouble of helping a "(murderer)."
Ruby jumped and looked around, letting out a squeak with her eyes wide. "H-hello?" She asked the empty room, voice still ragged. She had a vague idea of what had happened in her head while in her paralyzed state, but she was counting it off as a dream. When nothing responded to her voice, she relaxed slightly and, not seeing a towel in the room, opened the door out of the bathroom and stepped out.
Entering the joined bedroom, she noticed the room was... barren. No pictures hung on the walls, the bed looked old and uncomfortable, and the only thing that looked like it lived here was a wad of mold growing on the wall across from her. The only illumination was coming from the ceiling light pouring from the bathroom.
Nothing else stood out, not a lamp nor fan, except for a folded piece of paper and a set of grey clothes several times Ruby`s size, all laid out neatly on the bed. Grabbing the sheet, water droplets soaking through large portions of it, she opened it and began reading a note in sloppy, out of control handwriting.
Ruby Rose, I don`t know what you got yourself into, but I`m glad you`re alright. I figured with the knife and blood and everything I`d pay a visit to the police office. (Not narcking on you, don`t worry.) Be back soon. Don`t kill anyone else while I`m gone. Didn`t have any other clothes for you, so make do until I get back. Dryer probably works. Don`t go outside. Only got some canned foods I think. Will be back with something edible. Also, you might not read this if you don`t wake up while I`m gone, which would probably be for the best.
Don`t tell anyone, but I got something for you under those clothes I think will help. Truly sorry.
Ruby groaned internally, having a good guess at who it might be at this point after she`d considered the state of the handwriting. Looking at the clothes, there was a plain grey shirt sitting atop a pair of jeans, with a small lump near one of the shoulders. Picking the shirt up after drying her hands on the bed, Ruby saw the devil in the form of flask bearing the familiar design of a wing with gears towards its base.
She tossed it aside: she might not be the best citizen right now, but her father had made her promise not to drink until she turned of age - Vale`s being sixteen - and then only to do so under the supervision of sober adults. Plus, her head was still sounding the Guilt`s gongs, and she doubted this would do anything other than make her mental state worse.
Looking down at herself, she founded revulsion at the red stains on her clothes and hands. What disgusted her more, however, was how much it blended into her clothes; the blood now drying into her combat skirt was hardly noticeable, and the crimson splotches almost looked like they belonged.
Not caring about her state of dampness, quickly undressed and threw her clothes to the side, feeling only slightly bad as her beloved hood fell to the ground, leaving her in her underwear. She grabbed the shirt and pulled it over her head, unsurprised when it fell to her knees and she scoffed at the idea of even attempting to pull the jeans on.
She was still exhausted, and the bed looked welcoming, but another blink and a flash of red, now a more muted shade to reflect the dried blood, made her doubt sleep will come willingly. Another bout of Guilt pounded in her head, and Ruby glanced at the flask without thinking, pulled to it like the knife had before. A wave of determination came, and she picked up the flask, staring at it with narrowed eyes.
She wouldn`t let this control her, nor the Guilt, nor the red. Ruby braced herself and shut her eyes, meeting the red with fierce determination, sure she could beat the Guilt, the red, and the temptation if she just put her mind to it. The colour of her nightmares greeted her with an unbearably loud crack from the Guilt. She retreated, opening her eyes in less than a second and went to open the flask.
She popped the top off and took a whiff. It smelled... well, like her uncle. She isn`t able to distinguish drinks from one another, but it was definitely alcohol as far as she could tell. Bringing it to her mouth, she took the smallest of sips. Did it taste like... warmth? It reminded her of how mint made her mouth cold despite it being the taste rather than the temperature that did so. Taking more into her mouth, the drink was physically cold, yet as she swallowed, it burned her throat, the shock of it sucking her breath away.
She didn`t really have anything to compare it to and as she recovered, despite the drink having made it difficult to breathe, she felt the draw to take another swig.
Sirens had sounded off, threatening to stir Yang from her slumber. Her head felt like it had a jackhammer inside it, her best guess to assume she`d been drinking the night before. Of course she pushed away any attempt to rouse her. She was cold, leading the back of her mind to wonder where she`d fallen asleep this time. On the floor of a bar? Usually they call an ambulance if she drinks too much and passes out. She doubts somebody beat her in a drunken fight. Was that what she was hearing? Ambulances? Maybe.
Soon, she felt arms pull around her during her state of semi-consciousness and lifted her, making her give out a small groan. "Let me sleep a bit longer." Something was said in response but she couldn`t catch it. She was set down not much later and there were more words, filtered down to unintelligible mumbles.
Soon, there were more sirens sounding off. They really didn`t want her to sleep, did they? She attempted to lift her head up after a moment, but wow alcohol doesn`t like it when you do that. One eye cracks open momentarily, then shuts. Too many lights, all flashing. Couldn`t make sense of anything. A door shuts, she was inside now? Was she outside before? She decided she didn`t care and began to drift off to sleep again.
Later, she woke up, feeling not much better but, once her vision was willing to cooperate, able to make sense of her surroundings. When her eyes opened, they weren`t met with flashes, but bright lights were there nonetheless. It took a while to focus on anything around her, but she got there eventually.
As she was working on rejoining the land of consciousness, somebody noticed her, a young blond kid probably not much older than Yang herself. She thinks. Details were hard right now. He poked his head out a door - ah, so inside now, she must`ve been outside before - "Hey, she`s awake. You guys want to talk to her or do I ask her to just sit tight?"
A response came in, too muffled from the walls for her to catch, and he closed the door and approached her. "Hey, you feeling alright? Paramedics said nothing was wrong with you, so we just brought you straight here, hope that`s alright." Here? Yang looked around the room, now actually attempting to make use of her brain.
She was in a situation all too familiar: she sat in an uncomfortable metal chair bolted to the ground, optional slits for straps on the armrest - luckily not in use. A table was in front of her, roughly in the center of the room. An interrogation room, great. What did I do now?
The kid cleared his throat. Ah, right, he`d asked her something. "Yeah, sure." Usually answering yes or no when you aren`t paying attention works out, right? Her head was still going off, but not too badly, so hopefully her memories of last night would soon return. "Did I get in a fight or something and pass out?" Might as well get straight to it.
The kid looked shocked. "You don`t remember anything?" Scratch that, more of an incredulous look than shocked. She gave a shake of her head and he continued, "Ugh, try and remember something, please. When we found you we kinda thought you were dead, so putting some pieces together would help us out a ton."
Dead? Sounds about right if she was sleeping after getting drunk-off-her-ass. Yang was about to ask exactly what went on, but if this interrogation room isn`t just for lack of another room to put her in, he wouldn`t be allowed to tell her anything, and they`ll want her to give her own version of events she didn`t remember.
She didn`t reply, instead focusing on getting her brain to shut up. Alcohol always did this, filling her head with a soft buzzing and amplifying upon itself, becoming its own storm once she wakes up the next day, usually in trouble and without memories. As a couple more weathered-looking policemen enter the room, Yang finds herself thinking one thing:
I hate alcohol.
A/N: Said this before, but any and all reviews are welcome. I do want to become a better writing, and can take any critique thrown my way.
