Balance
Lullaby
I still remember it, my first taste of
humanity.
I remember the chill of recycled air
rushing past me in almost frictionless hurry. The abrasion of his coarse
knuckles against my ignorant skin. The bone deep pain that rung inside my skull
futilely.
The taste of blood against smooth
teeth.
I remember it. On nights like these, it's
the only thing I know.
That man, that grotesque, disgusting
man. He touched me. He hit me. He debased me with those meaty
human hands as thoroughly and vilely as any rape.
He showed me humanity.
He tried to lower me to their level,
make me live their pain and suffering. He tried to drag me into their
immorality, their hell.
They kill each other, you know. They
steal - life and property and innocence.
And I hate them. All of them. Even her.
Especially her.
She tried to make me believe.
It would have worked, if not for him. I
won't even pronounce his name in my mind, he doesn't deserve one. Can't
have one. He's just humanity, a soulless embodiment of that low animal race.
She tried to make me believe they were
higher than that. To believe that, even if they weren't, that they wanted to
be.
She called us angels, and tried to
break our wings..
It's only right that they die. That
she died.
Even if Vash hates me for it. I was
just protecting my little brother, trying to preserve what made him better than
the humans. They follow my orders, kill. Just as base as any others.
I dirty myself with their devotion, but
it is for a higher cause. It's for Vash.
I can taste red, seeping blood in my
mouth on nights like these, feel the sharp, madness tinged air numbing my skin.
I remember the taste, the pain. Vash remembers the sound of her voice.
And I almost envy my brother.
She'd lied, defended the guilty,
stolen my brother. Hurt me, more than that man.
But I can't sleep, knowing only that
pain. I want my brother, the warm brush of his mind. I can't have him. Yet.
If I'm quiet, however, I can have
her. The soft voice singing in the back of my brother's mind. It lulls me to
sleep on nights like these.
That's why I hate her.
notes: I wrote this a *way* long time ago at about
three am. It is therefore victim to three am syndrome, whereby I think
that statements like "the sun emits light" and mind numbingly
hilarious and that this actually has enough to do with a lullaby to be titled
such. I'm a scary person at three am. As usual, not dark
enough. And not pretty enough. Dangit, I like English to actually
sound like the nifty language it is.
Trigun is copyright (c) Yasuhiro Nightow and Young King
Ours.