Working on Your Song. lolorz. In the meantime, enjoy a rather short update of this short story.
Difference.
This is strange.
I didn't think he'd go this far.
I didn't think he'd go that far.
So the feeling is mutual now is it?
Good.
That's how it should be.
I envy you, while you envy me
I hate you while you hate me.
I want to kill you, while you want to kill me.
Mutual.
It's all mutual isn't it?
They weren't home.
I was only home.
Alone.
He came.
With a knife.
His hands were bloody as if he'd been holding that knife for a while.
Foolish.
Did I provoke him this far?
He can't stand it anymore can he.
The reflection is trying to hard to become one with reality.
The shadow is trying to break away.
It's all foolish.
I could only smile.
You won't kill me, won't you?
No, not at all.
You'd never kill me.
Because you need me.
"It's because you need me." I say out loud.
He looks at me surprised.
It's as if that foolish tongue of his can't produce words anymore.
"I'm sick of this!" He cries.
I see tears.
Why is he crying?
I laugh. I'm terrible.
"Are you? What are you going to do? They'll hate you if you kill me!" I laugh harder.
I'm foolish.
We're different.
He is black, and I am white.
He is the dog and I am the cat.
He is good, and I am evil.
We are very different.
"You don't even care at all!" He screams.
"Why would I? I hate you!" I scream back.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you so much.
I have to kill you before you kill me.
I felt my back crash into the hard ground.
He is on top of me.
He is on top of me and he is raising that knife.
Towards me.
End it all.
Go ahead. End it all here, and just see what happens you piece of trash.
I feel hot tears drop on my face.
Drip, drop, drip, drop, drip, drop, plop.
It reminds me of the dark spring mornings when it'd rain endlessly.
Those days, are far away.
"What are you waiting for? Are you perhaps…scared?" I mock.
His expression changes.
It changes into something I'm not familiar with.
What shall I call it?
"I.." He raises the knife higher.
Drip, drop, the blood from his hands drop onto my clothing.
Drip, drop.
Transparency mingling with crimson.
Drip, drop.
"If you hate me so much, why don't you kill me?" I whisper, smiling.
His expression changes again.
"Kill me."
Kill me.
Kill me.
Kill me.
Kill me.
That's the way it should be.
The clattering of a knife echoes through out the cold and dead silent room.
I am still alive.
And I will always be alive.
I'll be alive during life, and I'll be alive during hell.
That's the only place I'm going.
I'm a bad person.
We are different.
He is Black, and I am White.
He is the dog, and I am the cat.
I am still a child and he has grown up.
He has a heart, while I remain heartless.
