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Guardian Angel
Hateful Contemplations

Hate is a strong word. Too strong and powerful for my likings. I've always been one to select my words carefully and am prone to becoming annoyed when people use words that shouldn't be used. Such as this very word I'm contemplating right now. It's used far too casually for my liking. I hate Britney Spears. Don't you hate when people smoke in the same room as you? I hate broccoli.

It always makes me wonder: do people want to kill the pop star, kill people who smoke, and kill broccoli? Does it not seem like a trivial thing to loathe and spend time wasting about?

Teenagers use the word much too casually the most. Whenever Yamato and I had been with Takeru after he and Daisuke got into a snit, he would always use such harsh words. Takeru doesn't hate Daisuke, though. So why does he say that?

Sometimes, the word can be pushed into its full meaning. I'm beginning to believe it has now. My very own sister hates me. She told me with a dead serious expression, not with the yelling and crossing arms like Takeru normally would. Her voice had been dull, lifeless––another sign that it is true.

She hates me.

She has a right to. After everything I have done. Now, as I sit drinking a coffee at home, three days after the accident, I wonder how exactly I got caught into this situation. My eyes traveled across the room to the white object.

The phone. Scrambling to my feet, I found myself unplugging the phone and carrying it to the washroom. My feelings towards the animate object must be very close to the word I had been contemplating, for I had an urge to throw it into the ice cold bathtub. It had been filled two days ago by my mother. When she had brought me home from the hospital, she had run the water and told me to bathe. She had left after that, leaving me with a bathtub full of wasted water.

Something told me to throw the phone in. Letting go, I watched the phone smash against the bottom of the tub, beginning to smoke and sizzle. It was interesting to watch and almost unbearable to stop myself from jumping right in afterwards. I knew the thought was foolish, for I would die by doing so, but it was so very tempting.

I wandered to my bedroom after that. The bed was made, only because I hadn't been sleeping under the covers. Everything seemed in place. Too perfect for my likings. Grasping the covers, I seemed to be in an automatic state as I made a mess with the sheets, leaving them sprawled on the floor.

The sheets were angry with me. They must have been telling my clothes to choke me to death because I suddenly felt like I had no air flowing into me. My clothes were stuck to my body. However, I couldn't allow them to dominate me. I wouldn't. Quickly, I squirmed out of the deadly clothes and strewn them over my angry quilt.

Suddenly, I felt free. There weren't any restrictions as I ran through my small apartment naked as the day I was born.

[Well, don't you look lovely.]

I turned around happily, staring at my beautiful Matt. He was the lovely one, not me. Think so?

He nodded, walking gracefully to the couch where he took a seat.

Kari hates me, I said.

[No, she doesn't. Just upset.]

I shook my head vigorously. She hates me. You hate me too, don't you?

[You're not the same person I met.] He sighed and shook his head, looking deeply troubled.

Obviously not. We were eleven.

He must have ignored everything I just said. [You're different now.]

You hate me?

Matt shook his head. [I love you, but you are different now. I must leave now. Farewell.]

Don't leave me, I cried out, falling to my knees. I feel so alone...

A sudden rage filled my heart as he disappeared. A rage fueled by fear, hate, solitude––any other negative feelings. I felt as if I was on automatic again and my mind was forcing me to do things I wouldn't normally have.

Every piece of kitchen dish was destroyed. I threw them to the ground where they crashed––silence following that. Then another crash. Another silence. I continued this for a while, until everything was shattered into millions of pieces on the floor.

Shards of glass entered the bottom of my feet when they crunched against the floor as I walked back into the living room. There was a cabinet full of picture frames of family members, himself as a child, and of course, Yamato. I took a seat on the carpet as I set each picture frame in front of me. It had taken a few minutes for me to get started because I needed to walk back into the kitchen and find a knife. There was blood stains on the carpet because of my feet, but I hardly acknowledged it as I took another seat.

First, I grabbed a hold of a picture of Kari. Taking the glass out of the frame, I drew horns on the top of her head, and anything else I could think of that seemed to fit of her hate for me. The scratches went right through the picture, so that if I held it up into the light, you could see perfectly what I had drawn. Secondly, I grabbed a picture of Matt and drew a halo and a set of wings coming from his shoulder blades. He looked beautiful...

It was if I didn't have any emotion in me. All reason had left and I felt as if I have to do what my head is telling me to. It's forcing me to do these things because the picture don't look right and the dishes were sneering at me in the kitchen. The broken glass hardly sneered anymore.

As I was working on another picture, I heard the front door click.



The sweet voice of my sister flowed through the dead silence of the apartment.

Tai? Where are you? TK is coming in a bit and we––

She gasped as she found me in the state I was. I was completely ignoring her presence, working on a picture of the Digidestined together.

Tai... Where are your clothes?

Don't need clothes, I said. They were choking me.

She swallowed and had taken a seat next to me. Tears were running down her face as she took the picture of herself and looked at the result of my mind.

Tai, what's going on?

You hate me, I said, continuing to draw with the knife on the picture. I had scratched out Kari's body, as well as TK's. The others I had meddled with their faces and bodies. Matt received another halo and wings in this picture.

I don't hate you... I was very upset. Please forgive me, she said. Her voice was trembling, as if she was afraid of me. Perhaps she was afraid of me?

I didn't say anything as I set down the picture. Picking up the knife, I began walking back into the kitchen.

Tai! Your feet! Oh my God! What have you done to the kitchen?! she cried out, running to the doorway.

The dishes were sneering at me.

I could hear low sobs escaping her mouth and turned to find her running through the rest of the house. She shrieked when she went into the bathtub and only gasped when she went into the bedroom. Running back out, she had tears running down her face.

What's happening to you?

I ignored her and sat on the glass shards, hardly feeling the pieces cut into my buttocks and thighs.

She cried out as I did this, wincing every few seconds. I noticed her shoes were on as she walked towards me. Lightly, she began stroking my head as the knife fell out of my hand. I stared straight ahead. Didn't blink for a moment.

Kari was mumbling to herself. Where is TK? Oh God...

***

It was quiet wherever I was, except for two faint voices that could be heard. They thought I was asleep.

It's all my fault. I told him that I hated him when I was in the hospital, Kari said. She was crying, not even trying to hide it.

There, there. It isn't your fault. You heard what the doctor said. Tai's mental illness came out as a result of his loneliness of Matt's death. We should have taken the signs more seriously.

I know. We should have taken the signs more seriously. When he thought he saw Matt...

He did see Matt, TK said. It was an illusion brought on my the mental illness.

Oh it's my fault, she said again, bursting into tears.

No, it isn't, TK said firmly. He'll be safe here. Looked after my the nurses and psychiatrists.

I realized I'll be locked away.

Forever.

Maybe Kari and TK would visit me lots.

Perhaps Matt wasn't my Guardian Angel.


The End


Kind of sad, isn't it? Hope it was at least good enough of an ending.