Ok then. Three reviews. Wow, talk about a low recepetion. Good feedback though, so I guess it all works out. Quality over quantity right?
AngelOfMusic387: First reviewer, way to go. This chapter goes to you, even thought it doesn't hit on anything you want. More BB development really. Next chapter will be getting into that, author's honor. I appreciate the compliment on the story. Thank you much.
RenegadeMustang: The mystery of the narrator was intentional. I did that in part to hook the reader, and in part it adds to the drama and mystery of the moment. It seems rather lame too, to think "I am (name)" to yourself, right? Very interesting ideas, although I wouldn't expect BB to go serial on us. Good to have a fan from the start. Hope you like this one too.
Angelina Raven: I must disagree with you on Terra. I don't consider her evil, merely misunderstood and insecure. She went to Slade out of feelings of betrayel, and performed her actions because of that betrayel, and of fear of Slade. In the end she proved herself a decent young woman by taking Slade down (albeit temporarily, at least until Trigon got involved), and sacrificing herself to save the city. Regardless of my views on her, I do not intend to revive her. In my opinion that is the highest sin a fanfic writer can perform. That merely reads that the author has no ideas, and must resort to reviving dead characters for plot twists. To me it implies a lack of skill in writing, because often it is rationalized poorly, using the cliche excuse of clones or something of that nature. No Terra will not be revived. I hold myself to a higher standard than that.
That's my two cents, here's the story in exchange.
The Price Of Death
Chapter 2: Morning Guilt
"We know Beastboy. We know what you did."
How could they know?
"You're going to pay for what you did."
No! It wasn't my fault! I didn't mean to kill him!
"It's your fault Beastboy."
The circle is growing smaller, the Titans getting closer. Each one utters some statement of hate and accusation. I fall to my knees, and grip my head in pain. Their voices echo in my mind, threatening to make it explode.
"Eye for an eye."
"Tooth for a tooth."
"Life for a life."
No… not now. Not so young. I have a life still! I don't want to die! Don't kill me!
"Time to repent you murderer."
Murderer…
Murderer…
No…I'm not a murderer…I'm not… believe me… please? Please?
Disgusting. I hate coffee. It tastes like crap, but it steadies my shaking hands. My eyes feel heavy, weighed down by the knowledge and guilt of the previous night's events. Picking up a spoon I stir some sugar into the coffee, slowly watching the swirls of dark and light mix and match until one is eliminated and only one remains to see the light of day.
Taking a sip I wince, god this stuff is terrible. Who knows how old the coffee is, it's been in that cupboard since we moved in. The builders left it there, we think. No one likes coffee, but everyone's too lazy to throw it out, so it sat in there all this time. Terrible. Tastes like someone squeezed gym socks and made a drink from what dripped out.
Staring into the black liquid my thoughts drift back to the dream. The judging faces, each condemning me in their own way. A shudder tears its way down my spine, causing the coffee to shake in my hand. Some spills to the counter, and forms a pool. It is because of that dream- no. It is because of that nightmare that I have this stupid coffee.
I remember the cold sweat pouring down my face and back when I woke up from that. I had never been so scared in my life. Not even being swallowed by the earth compares.
Sweat begins to form on my head as fear barges into my heart. No. Don't think about it Gar. Don't think about the dream, or what you did.
Standing up I head to the sink, to get a towel to clean up the mess I made. I look down at the spill and freeze, the towel falling from my hand.
It can't be. It just can't be. It looks like… like his face.
"No…."
Did I speak aloud? I don't know, all I know is that somehow I found my way back to my room, and that I'm now in the corner curled into a ball, moaning to myself as I rock back and forth, clutching my knees. Why won't it go away? Every waking minute since I spoke to her the incident has been on my mind. Leave me demons, I suffer enough without you weighing me down.
Right, do everyone a favor. DO NOT WASTE TIME TELLING ME IT WAS SHORT. I know. Obviously, right?
Been a while since I worked on this, my AP tests are finally over. I just felt the need to get something out. I owe it to the three reviewers I guess.
Oh hey, here's a question for you readers. Why the bloody hell does everything I write start with the letter "T" ? Seriously, they all do. Kinda odd... (cue twilight zone music)
Let me know what you think, otherwise this may hit the scrap heap like so many other things.
If you read it, please review it. It does me some good to know I'm not wasting my time on something that barely a person cares about.
Optimus