I step carelessly through the rain-drenched earth. My cap has long since disappeared, but I don't care enough to retrieve it. It was a bother. I don't avoid the puddles. Instead I splash through them, like the two young psychic boys prolonging their stay in the storm because for some reason they find it enjoyable. They are in contrast to the cute young girl in the bulky pastel coat, darting here and there to dodge the depressions of water. Her twin follows closely behind.

I wonder about these kids, these children, and the hated tournament's affects on them. They are only children, meaning to say, should they truly be put through all of this – pain, suffering, harsh reality – all for the pleasure of entertainment? Yet at the same time, they are the light and joy of the Manor, even for someone like me. Their giggles are like glittering fluttering in the air as they tickle each other pink. Their smiles are like the sun on storm-weary days such as these. Also they seem to handle the tournament's pressure much better than any of the experienced adult Smashers – a dry smile, twisted by irony, is on my face. Oh yes, they deal with things in a much simpler way. Everything is easy, and when something goes wrong, it is simply dealt with, then forever forgotten. It's as if they are here to keep us sane.

If only I could have those talents – if only I could be a young child again, free of burdens and worries and wants, of remorse and torment. If only it worked on me.

As the word want comes to mind, a thunderbolt rips the swirling sky in half, making a female's voice shriek behind me. Instantly I stiffen, bite down on my lip, and I frantically try to clear my mind's eye of all the memories that are called forth at the sound of that voice: shining crystal blue eyes, an erratic heartbeat, a feeling of flying and the need to run away and the hope of never looking back.

My footsteps are slowing purposely, every part of my heart telling them to and every part of my brain screaming at them to keep moving.

She needs me. She wants to see me as much as I want to see her. She'll understand we need to talk.

No, she hates me. She never wants to see me again. She distanced herself, separated herself from me because neither of us can forgive and forget. She'll never understand, especially not anymore…

I feel her coming closer to me. It was similar to way back then, before shadows possessed me, when she could sneak up behind me, a giggle always betraying her. She'd wrap her slender arms around my 'surprised' neck, kissing my jaw tenderly, whispering something in my ear…

She passes me without so much as a second glance. It hurts, but I am frozen in place, my gold hair dripping into my stinging eyes. My gaze is locked upon her as she dances gracefully between the puddles, attempting to keep her royal dress perfectly unblemished. However, she is laughing with someone, someone who is following her the way the brother in the winter coat was following his twin.

He is tall, heavy-built; no one ever doubted his strength, but the first time he swung his two-handed sword with only one hand, even our greatest expectations proved to be underestimations. His frayed and tattered cape sways behind him in the angry wind, the ripped end weighed down by water. His deep chortles are whipped away by the gale as her pure white dress gets freckled with mud, mixing in with her own laughs, her dramatic, full-fledged laughs.

Suddenly the gale pushes her forward, and she falls into his chest, where his arms encircle her. Her chuckles die out, fading away into the wind as she stares into his eyes. Her pale, flawless, and long-fingered hands are pressed against his broad chest, his fingers stroking her spine. They gaze at each other as if no one in the world existed, like I'm as invisible as the sun on this day, like they were the only two people who had ever walked through life, and together.

I am burning with anger. I am livid, eyes bright and hands curled into fists. My rage is boiling inside me, and only the thought of my dear princess keeps me from tearing out my well-won sword and slicing his head off. He had no right to touch her. He has absolutely no reason to even be alive at this moment. He should die for the crime of attempted theft, and I say trying because I am not going down, and he is not winning, without a fair fight. Theft is a lowly man's excuse and this 'hero' has been honorable many times before. I am a hero, so I shall keep my honor and dignity.

Suddenly he is leaning toward her, his face descending, and I am thinking rather tolerably about shedding my heroic tendencies as easily as if I am a snake shedding skin.

I am about to rush over, but I see my princess blush and turn her face at the last escape, stepping out of his arms awkwardly. I smile humorlessly, but with triumph, as they finish their walk in silence. If I were capable of such enthusiasm, I would punch my fist in the air and crow to the shrouded sky. But my only expression is a cold sneer.

Yet I'm not feeling good. For some reason, I cannot take much joy in my small victory. Perhaps because it is only a small success? But it was a key achievement. Why, then?

I can't figure it out, but I am still stuck to where I am. It is unfathomable, but I can't seem to make one foot follow the other. The rain begins to feel chilly as it splatters on my rising face. I stare at the clouds, water pouring down my facing.

As the rain strikes me, it starts to feel like encouragement to the sinking sensation in my stomach. My mind is once again in a knot, and I feel more desperate than I ever have before.

I need someone. I need anyone. I just need someone for me.

I am alone.

A/N: This story makes me feel all confused inside. Well. For the first time in history, I updated a day after I started this story! DOUBLE RAINBOW ALL THE WAY! (Brownie points to whoever knows what I'm referencing.)

Thanks to: JSparks! Thanks! I try. :) and Moonlight. Thank you! I do hope you enjoy the rest.

To all, thanks for reading, if you did. However disturbing, I hope you enjoyed. Please review. Merry Christmas!

~ClumsyHeart17