Black Butterflies

by Galalithial

A rogue organization has gone beyond human bounds and have created the first anthro human-pokemon. Will their creation comeback to destroy them? Or become the valuable weapon they want from him? And what plans do the Legendaries have for him? He will have to survive with his skill, strength, and the help of his reliable group.

36. Reflections

Yes, I'm back. Sorta. This isn't really a chapter. It is just... a confession. My life has been hard as of late, and as Leo has always been more an extension of who I am, another part of me, more than a character, I decided to use him as an outlet, as well as to let you guys know... I am back.

Leo

I spent days there. In that retched place. In a hole of pain and regret. I left my soul to drown in a lake of misery while I sailed away on a boat of callous lack of feeling. Numbness... has protected me and harmed me all at the same time. I try not to feel, and as such do not feel the knife cut my throat. I dangle at the end of a rope called pain, slung in a noose called regret. It hurts, more than any sane human being can relate to. I'm surprised. Surprised that I've lasted as long as I have. My heart, for your heart is truly where heart resides, that heart which is the embodiment of emotion, more than a physical organ, and that emotional heart has so many holes in it for strings to run through, and depending how they may thread, they can hold you together or rip you apart, and my heart... my heart has been torn, yet sewn so that the the pieces may hang as punching bags for the weary and the without rest. I have become an outlet, both physically and mentally. People may hit me, cut me, torture me, and I will not break. They may scream at me, insult me, scorn me, but I will not cry. I have become a symbol of hope and of destruction. For, it is the callous that may string the minds of the people to do there bidding by being the hope they themselves cannot not muster, by being a light in the dark, but at the same time, grasping tight the rug beneath their feet, ready to smote the light should I deem it correct. Who am I to act this way? I am no god, no all powerful being. I do not have the power, nor the authority, to do what I do, yet I do it anyway. Does that make me a devil? I have been called Lucifer, for people who hold fear in there hearts, that sacred hole for emotion, have no other excuse than themselves, and they do not wish to look upon themselves in such a manner. We are weak, we intelligent creatures of the world. You look upon an animal, so strong, so fast, so much more than we are... and yet we slander them stupid, unthinking, idiotic creatures. They've been around a lot longer. Maybe they just no more than us. I will resign myself to be as an animal, if I can. Perhaps it is only animal that can do no evil.