'I hope he kills you slowly.' The words buzzed in my head like bees, uncontrollably loud and painfully sharp. I walked back to the room I shared with Alfred, only pausing to look at our door. The door we shared.

I was never going to see this door again.

Memories of every time I walked through this door pushed at me, wanting to make an appearance but I shoved them away, along with any emotion that might have been buzzing around with the words Kiku had spoken.

I entered the room in a stoic state. I didn't acknowledge anything but my bed, the steps I took were painful but I had pushed the pain away long ago. I was used to it wasn't I? What was I expecting for my first assignment? A simple assassination of someone then to be returned back to this life, waiting for someone to request me to guard their lives?

Oh I was a pathetic mess; pitiful. I hated that I had to leave; I didn't want to accept it. I hated the fact that I had hurt Alfred so badly. I hated the fact that my hands were still shaking beyond my control.

I hated everything that I had come in contact with, because I would eventually end up leaving them.

Just like Alfred, and the door that had hidden such pain, I would someday leave the memories that haunted me too.

No one would ever know that Matthew ever existed, the boy who named himself with his only friend Alfred. No he was only Matthew, he had never been known as anything else. I was not Matthew Williams. I was simply Matthew.

Alfred F Jones didn't exist, only Alfred. The bouncy blond boy who had acted so erratically, the only one to ever make Matthew smile.

Had I reverted back to the boy who had never smiled? I felt like him, Matthew. Who was Matthew Williams? He died shaking in Alfred's arms after reading the words Gilbert Beilschmidt.

I died the minute I learned I was going to die, because I knew. I just knew that I was going to die alone. I wasn't up to par, I would never be good enough to keep Gilbert Beilschmidt safe before I was kicked away, shot like an animal.

I guess I was an animal now wasn't I? I was filthy, Matthew, disgusting; an animalistic waste of space made solely for the purpose of dying at the hand of the only person in the world who I needed.

But that wasn't true was it? I needed so much more, I needed Alfred, I needed the nurse who had stitched up my arm, I needed the door, and I needed the mask that would protect me from being anything but Matthew Williams.

I wasn't Matthew Williams anymore.

'I hope he kills you slowly.' Wasn't it painful to hear those words? I wanted to laugh bitterly, but I didn't. Who was it that wanted to laugh like that? Matthew certainly didn't.

Was it possible that I was still alive inside? Somewhere? In the black pit that was my soul, born to die, was there still the boy who had laughed behind the door, smiled without inhibition, the one who had named himself Matthew Williams. Had Matthew taken over once again?

I had no idea.

I laid carefully onto the mattress, I felt fragile now. No, I felt nothing. Who was it that felt fragile? Hadn't he died? Were the tremors that had slowly crept from my hands to my whole body, making me tremble violently against the tough material of my bed even my own emotion any more?

I felt like I needed to break. No, I didn't feel, I didn't want to bleed and scream and cry and live through the pain that plagued…who was it? Me? I? Myself? Was I even alive anymore?

No, I born to die, blackness inside, I wanted nothing more than to be Matthew. I wanted to be Matthew. Matthew was safe and blank and cruel. Cruel to myself. Cruel to Matthew Williams and Alfred F Jones.

Matthew Williams didn't die; Matthew Williams doesn't die till the memories die, and these memories will never fade. Because I was Matthew Williams, born again to prevent death, the one who laughed for the first time then promptly burst into tears at the novelty of it, the one who lived through the pain, wave after wave of pain and loneliness and I refused to die like that.

Matthew Williams was the one laying on the mattress, the one who felt the things like pain, fragility, the horrible throb of stitches, scraped feet, echoing footsteps that only reminded me of how alone I was because Matthew Williams was the one who felt and Matthew Williams was the one who could control it.

I was the one to bring silence to the halls, to make myself quiet; to work enough to not feel the pain I should feel but never neglect it. Matthew did that.

Matthew Williams was the one who could live and lie and protect, the Gilbert Beilschmidt because he- I was Matthew Williams, Matthew, and very much alive.

~.~

Alfred came back to the room almost three hours after myself, and I was feeling refreshed from my newfound acceptance. Alfred looked like hell though, his eyes were sunken and terribly bloodshot, his blond hair lacked luster. It seemed to wilt in front of his eyes, turning from his sheen of natural gold to a dull light brown.

He walked with his shoulders tucked in tightly, his footsteps were small, his movements were staggered and convulsive. It was obvious he was suffering by the news, whether it was mine or his was the question.

"Alfred?" I called lightly and he jumped, he had been so in his head that he hadn't noticed me. His eyes dulled even more as he looked at me then jerked his gaze away, taking to staring at his bed instead. He looked so weak in such a drooped position, he had closed his eyes tightly and I knew he was holding back tears.

"I had never expected it to be this hard." He rasped, "I thought- I don't know I want more time! I don't want you to leave!"

His eyes shot open and he sprung to my bed, pinning me to the mattress in another crushing grip, I tried not to wince as his fingers wrapped around part of the hand shaped bruise had had already given me.

"When are you leaving?" He exclaimed, his eyes were wild and distrusting and I was momentarily speechless. I was afraid of what my voice would give away, be it the pain he was causing or the stress I was under from the question.

He would be destroyed by the fact I had to leave the very next day.

"Alfred you cannot be affected like this." I whispered and he flinched. "You knew this was going to happen, they told us about this everyday, there was no way you could not have known."

"Mattie, I also know what he does to our members! They spent so long telling us to avoid Gilbert Beilschmidt, he is a lunatic."

"Doesn't that make me much more prepared to deal with him then?" I asked and Alfred closed his eyes in grief.

"They prepared us well Alfred, I already know about every aspect of Mr. Beilschmidt's life, I know every single thing he does and will ever need done, I will try my hardest and hopefully, I will die old and honorably."

Alfred almost relaxed, his tight hands loosened around my arms a little and I pulled away, letting the blood rush back to my hands. There would be ugly, dark bruises in the shapes of hands going up and down my forearms.

"You never answered the question." Alfred whispered, his dull blue eyes locking into mine. I could see every red line that streaked Alfred's eyes, it was disturbing.

"Tomorrow." I said in return and his face crumpled again. His body collapsed down on top of mine and he shook as he had before, silent sobs wracked through him and I couldn't bring myself to cry, though I wanted to.

Alfred had loosed one of my hands in preference to wrapping it tightly around my stomach; the other hand had tightened like a handcuff. He fell asleep that way, and I stayed conscious for as long as I could. I wanted to be in Alfred's presence as long as possible, whether he was sleeping or not was not an issue.

Alfred was enough to bring light to a bleak sunless world.

.!.

I wrote this chapter to give you an idea of the horrible life Matthew had to face, to take a peek into the problems growing up in such a place had caused within him. If you didn't understand, he has almost two personalities, the face he wears for being outside, in class, in training, basically everywhere but behind the door with Alfred. This is his safe mask named 'Matthew'. I would like to this of 'Matthew' being a shell used to run away from all the pain of Mattie's past. Matthew Williams was the person Mattie would be if he weren't so different, a person who isn't robotic like his 'Matthew' ego. Matthew Williams was born when Alfred came, kindling the life Matthew had repressed within himself. I would like to think of Matthew Williams being the human Mattie would have been had Alfred had already been there. 'Matthew' was someone he had to be in order to survive from birth.

Thanks for reading, I hope you liked this chapter, please review it means a lot and is really inspiring.

-Serenity Ma Sogni