Worse Than Death
Darkness, darkness, only darkness exists here. I have no feelings, thoughts, or emotions. I cannot see, hear, or feel anything here. This area is void, it is empty, there is nothing to make me want to live. Yet I live on, my body breathing, always breathing. Although I cannot hear it, my heart still beats, my lungs still suck in air, and my pulse is still in time.
My blood-red eyes are closed forever, yet I still live. My black cloths, red cape, and red bandana will cling onto my body, collecting dust. My smooth, black, shoulder-long hair is now tangled and snarled. My once golden and shiny claw that gleamed is now dull.
But not a corpse. My body will never have the chance of being one.
I cannot die of starvation, thirst, or age. Hojo made sure of that. The one who ruined my life, the one who killed the reason I lived, the one who has tortured me for over twenty years… Hojo. You cannot imagine my hate for him, because there is nothing like it. The slowest death imaginable is not good enough for the likes of him. Even Hell is too little for him. He deserves far, far worse.
But that is just a dream… no, it's just an idea. I cannot dream. I cannot think either though, so why do I know this? It is a remaining memory, one I have grasped, only to let it slip from my fingers that are colder than ice.
But can I really blame him? I blame myself more. If I had protected Lucecria, then we might be ok. She chose Hojo over me, but she was happy. I didn't mind, as long as she was happy. Anything to make her smile and laugh joyfully I would do.
But Hojo went too far. She is now dead, all because of the sickening experiments. She didn't know what would happen… if she did, could she have stopped it? Could have I? Is there any way I could have saved her? I would have gladly died for her, if I could have. But no… I was too weak, too slow, too stupid to help.
Hojo may have inflicted physical injuries to me, but my mental pain is far, far worse. I am surprised my heart did not break in half under the strain.
What am I getting at? Now that I am in this state, I look at the heart for what it really is; a muscle that keeps me alive, to dwell over what has happened.
Hojo grew tired of me, like he did Lucecria. The only way you escape him is if you are of no use to him. For almost ruining his plans though, he thought death would be too kind. And he was right. Death would be a blessing compared to this. Injections were taken, into this prison I was thrown, a wooden coffin.
Yet it does not enslave me.
No, my prison is my mind. I cannot escape it.
But if I could, would I? Maybe I deserve this… it cannot bring back Lucecria, but it makes me feel better to go through this torture. Maybe, just maybe, it will make her soul rest, to know I am paying for my sins.
No, that isn't right. I have no hope now. Nothing to make me feel even slightly happy. Even this small pleasure is denied from me.
I must atone though. I must, whether I want to or not. It's the only right thing to do.
I will accept my fate. I will be in an eternal sleep, the one Hojo put me in more than twenty years ago. I will never awaken, and I will never die in this state, no matter what. I will be here for all time.
Death is not an option. It would be the sweetest thing in the world if it was, but it isn't. And I must make due with that.
My name is Vincent Valentine. And my fate is to be trapped in sleep, in my mind, forever.