Sometimes I wonder why we even exist. Is it only to suffer? So that we can bring pain to each other, cause an endless cycle of torture not only to ourselves but also to the people around us?

But then, sometimes I would wonder what we did wrong. I'm not a child anymore. Empathy is not a curse. It is neither a gift nor a blessing, but it is no more a curse then a scar over one's skin. For me, it is a remnant of what WAS my curse. The curse of having parents such as those I had. The curse of being born in a time when normalcy was valued beyond any reason above others.

If I had been born into a different family; or perhaps at a different point in history, would I have suffered as I had? Would I still have been thrown into a dungeon in my own home?

Questions and answers. Mundane things that no longer matter.

I'm not sure if I am the true face of one Kurosaki Hisoka, or if I'm merely one of his many many different facades. He's only sixteen.

But he experiences pain much worse then those twice his age.

It's not a physical pain, or even an emotional pain. It's a gnawing deep within his mind that leaves holes where it hurts the most; hurting so much that he can barely stand to live on as he is now.

Ironically, he's no longer living.

There was once this man named Kazutaka Muraki. This white haired demon from hell murdered and killed more then he could count. How unlucky was it that he became a witness to one of his more secretive crimes?

Well, no matter. He suffered for it.

The mark is always there. We can feel it clearly every hour of the day. It throbs when Muraki is feeling particularly excitable. Sometimes I wonder how long it would take to drive us all off the deep end.

It certainly wasn't taking up too much effort.

Dying is an experience. You can really tell whether it was good or bad, I suppose it depends with each person it takes into its grasp. For me, it was just…mind numbing pain.

Soon it doesn't become as bad as it started out to be. It calms the mind. The pain became our world. It surrounded us, seeping into the very crevices of our mind and became almost like one with us. Pain has quite the calming effect when applied effectively, let me assure you.

I can honestly say that if I ever find out who pulled me from such a 'calming effect', I would very happily murder then and string them up if ever I get the chance.

Damned Tsuzuki.

Of course, he's different. If I ever get my hands on him, the other ones will very happily rip me to pieces. I'm not the only pessimistic one for nothing.

But yes, it's true that Tsuzuki is different. He has many many sides that I have not yet uncovered. The more concentrated I am towards uncovering the true Asato Tsuzuki, the more I will eventually forget and that in itself was dangerous.

But whoever said addiction never came with danger along for the ride?

Tsuzuki is an addiction. Violet eyes seemingly holding all the secrets in the world; the mystery that surrounds him attractive and spellbinding…

He has a power over us. He eases our self-inflicted pain. He makes us feel. The effect he has on us is frightening. Sometimes, I think he has more power over us then we have over ourselves.

Of course, if we are talking in the sense of control over me, it will always be Kazutaka Muraki who will win. The red symbol over my back marks me as his. Sometimes I wonder if it would mean truly the end if I died now; as a shinigami (But was that even possible?). Would I be rid of this curse that has bonded me with a killer? Would I finally lose all consciousness of the physical plane, separating me from the only thing that has shaped my life for my full sixteen years; pain?

It is not a choice I am allowed to make. I suspect that the white haired monster of a man will follow me even through death (for hasn't he proven to do so already?) until I am consumed by his hatred and monstrous love for blood. Until I will eventually welcome it with open arms and I would be ever so willing to be held in his arms, my conscience wiped from existence.

I don't deny that there is a small craving always present at the back of my mind. That if I did welcome the darkness to surround me, override my mind and let myself go, I would be so much happier. I wouldn't have to suffer again. I would make others suffer in my stead.

I admit, I am a bit of a sadist and a selfish bastard all wrapped up into one neat little package.

It's difficult to be so good all the time. But tiring as it gets, some strive to be their best despite opposition because their belief in themselves and those around them is strong.

Well, can you blame me if I tended to be lacking in that certain aspect in my personality?

Distrust is an easy thing to develop throughout the years. It's not about being scared to get too close; it's being cautious. Tsuzuki has no sense of caution whatsoever. It seems that whenever he's in a serious situation, his childish behaviour flies out the window but then so does his vigilance. But he manages to emerge victorious every single time.

Not everyone has his dumb luck (though I have to admit he does have talent).

But somehow, I know that I can depend on him. I'm not sure if it's trust, maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Because if it were, it would be horribly warped because I'm sure that the urge to rip his head off certainly does not have anything to do with trust between two partners.

Sometimes he is an annoyance I can seemingly never get rid of, other times he is my anchor to my harsh reality, there to stabilize my emotions when I need to and just there even when I didn't need to.

I'm not saying this as if he will be the one to save me. Because eventually, I will need someone to pull me away from him, from the beautiful prospect, to be free from human emotions, that he will offer me. That person won't necessarily be Tsuzuki.

Of course we all wished that it would be Tsuzuki. It had been us who had saved him on his little suicidal escape. But would he be willing to do the same for us?

It is a question we are afraid to answer.

Nobody has helped us before. Nobody was willing to. If Tsuzuki was no different…if he hadn't the ability to pull us away from the firm grip of one Kazutaka Muraki…

Then we eventually will belong; body, heart, and soul to the white demon amongst glowing red.

But there really was no surprise there. We already do.