BEFORE NIGTH AWAKENS
By Sickle Sword
--o0o--
Disclaimer: I don't own the ladies, Chris, the demons (who want to own them?) yada yada yada, I just took them for a small ride. Therefore, I would really appreciate if nobody sued, although they can try. I doubt if they got much money out of it, though...
A/N: Warm THANKS to denna5 who liked it and AK8 whose review got into my heart when I thought nobody bother readying it anymore. This chapter was born just because of you guys! And now to really small chapter! (Sorry! grovelingbut I promise next chapter will be longer)
I've gotta say a huge thanks to slain who pointed out my REALLY moronic mistake. God, how I could be so stupid? I apologize with all my heart to those who maybe took offence from my lack of brain that mixed up the Greek mythology. SORRY!
It should have been me who had told him the truth, even when I didn't know what the meaning of the truth is, for I have lived in a lie. I should have held him close to my arms and closer to my heart and even when he chose to go away, I should have followed. It should have been me who died. Not him.
After awhile you don't know what you feel anymore. You hate him more than you hated everyone else your entire life, including yourself. And you love him. You love him more than any other human being, not because he is your brother, although it's an obvious factor, but because he was there when you needed him. And you are not there for him now. You are near him in your body, but your soul is floating, searching desperately for a way out from the cage you have chosen.
You guess you should have known better all along.
You have followed a way just because giving up was easier then declaring your failure, and being among family after all time you were alone, it comforts you. But eventually the old you struggles to reemerge from the bottom pit of your soul. You fight to ignore it. And just like earlier you couldn't fight yourself, this time you mostly succeed. So you take it as a sign. Maybe this is where you were supposed to be all along. At your brother's side. It feels natural, and as you wake up with the knife held tightly beneath your arm, you accept it. You forget that there were times you went to sleep with a pillow held in your arms, not a means for killing. You forget that in another lifetime, you could only sleep when your brother was around because that was the only way you've felt safe, and now you only feel safe away from him. You forget the times you swore to protect him. You forget the times you swore to kill him. You forget everything because this is easier. You forget yourself.
And it's ok, and it's fine and alright and . . . . it's not. It hurts. Badly. This is not the way things were supposed to be. And every time you hear that another witch, man, innocent had perished, you demand your hearing to go away. You don't want, don't need, to hear it. You can't face it that the all those you have worshipped your entire life- are gone. Your parents vanished, your younger brother is gone with them, and so is your old one. He is not anymore the one who soothed you to go sleeping, staying with you nights and days, promising that the nightmares wouldn't come to life, only to be proven lying, when they did. And your worst nightmare- that your brother is a monster- is proven right as well. And you can't help but to wonder at lonely times, if these earlier dreams weren't premonitions the universe sent you as a warning for darker times. And you chose to ignore them.
This is all your fault. You deserve what you've got.
And as you see the evil every day you struggle not to cry. Because crying is a weakness, and although the logical part of your brain already knows you are weak, your heart will never be ready to agree.
Then the world grant you a miracle, and one day, sitting like always in the only place that consist light and which is ironically near him, you hear someone knock at the door. In a world that no one bothers anymore to acknowledge you as a human being that needs privacy, apparently angels were left.
At the door stands the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, and you forget how to talk, walk or breathe, only remember how to smile. And she comes closer and tells you her name.
Bianca.
And you don't want to cry anymore. And you don't want to have to compromise at the stolen shreds of light from your room. You want to live. You want to love.
HER.
And although there is always a little bird whispering in your ear that it's dangerous to love her, you can't afford not to. You don't want to return to that semi- human place you've been before, when you just knew that it really doesn't matter how much you try. You've believed that no one gives a damn about you, or your lack of existence in this time and place. All that is important is the outcome, how you play with the cards you've been dealt.
You don't want to believe in these lies anymore.
A great man once spoke to your ear in thunder days that when life hands you lemons, you don't check the horse's teeth but check it didn't come from Greece. As a child, you're not sure you've understood what it meant. You're not sure you do now. But you have to admit, even to yourself, it kindda sounds like your life- fate never gave you free presents before and since it has obviously come from Up There, you should be careful.
Only, you've had enough to be careful. You want to sink.
--o0o--