Never forgive the bad ones.
Well he knew who the bad ones were.
The bad ones…were…him… Him and all the memories of him, fighting, shooting, killing, darts and all the 'I'll kill you's that echoed in his mind as he remembered himself doing it…
I'll kill you, I'll kill you, that's what he said, to himself, to them, when he fought them, when he chased them, when he killed them.
Then he did it, just like he said.
What was worse? That he killed them, or that he said he would?
Obvious?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
He killed them. He had to.
But saying he would, knowing he would, telling himself he would – that was what made him a murderer. Not like Ken, not like the others and Ken.
They didn't think like this, they weren't like this, they were something other than this. Even though they killed, and they killed, didn't they?
Yes.
Maybe…or…maybe he was the only one who killed. Maybe his murdering was infectious, maybe his I'll kill you's had taken them too, and he'd made others like him. It screamed in his head so much, so loud, clamouring to be let out, they must have heard.
Maybe he was insane.
Maybe they were just pretending not to hear how bad he was.
Pretending he was the same, pretending they weren't different.
But they were different, because…they were kind…Ken was kind…so he couldn't be like him…but Ken didn't lie to him, Ken really was kind, it was true…which had to mean he wasn't pretending, he didn't hear, he didn't know…which meant he himself was worse, because the others were so good, and in comparison, and because he was with them..
He wouldn't make Ken bad. Even though Ken could let him forgive, because Ken would forgive him. Together they could forgive the bad ones…but then Ken would have to be bad…and Ken was better…Ken was something else, something he couldn't have.
Maybe forgiveness was deserving.
And the others, they were something else too.
They held on to something from the past that meant their future...
But he had no past…so how could he have a future?
They had I'll find you, they had I'll save you, they had I'll forever love you…
But all he was was all he had…all he could remember, all he'd ever been and all he was was I'll kill you, this hideous truth.
Wait, though, he hadn't been like this. He just was, now, suddenly.
He hadn't been, maybe it was…before he'd said too many I'll kill yous, like an evil prayer, like the our father…our father…the evil our father, like the evil his father…he'd got it, the evil. There had to be a reason, and maybe he needed to be killed too…
He should probably be stopped. He'd said it too many times.
I'll kill you, I'll kill you, and he had killed them, he'd had to, and then…
What should he say?
Oh yes…
Never forgive the bad ones.
Maybe he was going insane.
He giggled, dizzy, scared, tired, couldn't cope, couldn't cope…
He gazed down at the knife in his hand, glinting like it was evil, but it wasn't, he knew it was pure.
It could be used by…bad people…and that would be…bad...
It could be…in front of the I'll kill you, between the I'll kill you and the bad ones…and that would be…good.
But the I'll kill you and the bad ones, they were both him…
Did they deserve to die? Did they?
Did he deserve to die?
He put down the knife.
Never forgive the bad ones.
WHOA that is fucked up. I'm proud, I didn't even know I could be so dangerously insane. Actually I'm quite disturbed, but then it is very late, and you are very small. I mean, I have been writing essay for a very large amount of hours!! I guess it's for lovely Claire, although, having read it I doubt she'll want it!!! I don't apologise for it's fucked up ness, nor for the fact it barely counts as a fic at all. I wrote it, I'm posting it, if you don't like it – get back (hands up who gets this [back, haha, not…])
Hm, I think it would have been better if I hadn't tried to get KO into it at all. I just couldn't bear the thought of doing anything without!
On another note, I'm going on "peaceful celebration of diversity" in exactly ten hours.
Anyhow, good morning! And in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight!!!