Devastation
At the age of thirty, Rekiell and Selkerath had fallen deathly ill. A strange plague had fallen upon them, the cause unknown. Mr. Dark, having outgrown his nickname, was at their bedside every single second. He cared not for the world around him for as far as he knew, his friends were his world. At one point, Mr. Dark temporarily left their side in a search for a cure, desperately eager. His friends knew it was hopeless, and did not fear for their own beings, and so Selkerath wrote a final paper that told a final lesson for Mr. Dark. When the desperate man known as Mr. Dark came back...Selkerath and Rekiell, his two only friends in the world, the only two people who had ever accepted him, the only two people that would ever be his loving and caring friends, closer than any family he would ever have...had passed away.
Devastated, heartbroken, terrified, miserable, bewildered...None of these words, nor any other words that would ever come into existence, were even close to describing his tragedy. Selkerath's paper fell victim to a frenzy of incomprehensible rage that Mr. Dark unleashed, destroying the entire chamber, save the bodies of the dead. It became long lost after he was through with his uncontrollable breakdown. Mr. Dark screamed and cried throughout the entire day and night, the scream of the worst anguish and misery. Instead of burning their bodies like most would to their dead, Mr. Dark wanted them to always stay in any way possible, so he buried them instead. He cried all the way through, until he could cry no more. At that point, he screamed again, only anguish in his lungs. Even after the deed was done, the miserable Mr. Dark stayed on the burial site for an unknown period of time, now frozen in shock. The vile people around him raided his house and took everything. He didn't care. His eyes were full of emptiness. He watched with no emotions but shock, not of the raids, but of his friends. He soon sealed himself up and never went out. He only wore black now, his mourning permanent and unchangeable.
In a number of days, a grave robber arrived. He was one of the citizens, and decided that since they were dead, the two freaks didn't need their belongings. He also thought that they didn't deserve them anyway. When the grave robber arrived at the site...He was brutally attacked. Even though the grave robber was a good fighter, Mr. Dark mercilessly beat him with his bare hands, and then took the sword of the grave robber and beat him even more with the hilt, locked in an uncontrollable fit of rage. He continued beating him to death, not caring for the man's pleas, until he was disfigured beyond understanding, his skull crushed in at all sides and all of the body a bloody mess on the ground. Mr. Dark rose and simply looked down at the body. He had committed his first murder. There was no thrill. Only hate for the dead body before him.