Ha! My first CSD fanfic! In angst. And the character here is probably a bit OOC here but, hey, that's why it's angst. I think. ?.?
This may not make sense because it's been a long time since I wrote angst. My angst-y ness might have rusted.
Okei.. this fanfic is welcome to everyone. People who criticize, who enjoy csd, who hate csd, flamers, fangirls.. or fanboys..
One last reminder. This is from our dear Kaichou's POV.
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Why does everyone find me perfect? Flawless? Everything I do is always right. Amazing. Wonderful. Why do they call me a god? A god? Yeah right.
Why does everyone depend on me? It's always me because I'm perfect. Because I do everything extraordinarily. Everyone thinks that I'm doing this for him or her. Not for myself.
They say I'm perfect but would I be thinking this if I was perfect? Would I still be perfect if I wanted to fit in? Or would I do this?
A cry of pain.
Then..
Release.
I panted as the blood oozed out. Gods that hurt so much. It took me three months to do that and the pain I get in return was intolerable.
Parting closed eyes, I looked down at what I've made and, despite the pain that possessed me, I felt relieved. I felt as though I have just been released from a thousand problems that I've longed to run away from.
It wasn't bleeding as much, only a small trickle. I traced the cut on my arm lightly and, when my finger had reached the jagged line, I pressed it. Hard.
I yelped loudly as pained coursed through my whole body. More blood trickled out and went in a frenzy race to reach the end first. Pain followed the trail of crimson until they reached the spotless floor. The once spotless floor that is cleaned day after day to suit my mother's satisfactions. That's all right. Now it doesn't look so perfect anymore. It may sound funny but I have to admit, I felt jealous. Now everyone has a right to complain about the floor. It fits in with everyone else: it's not perfect anymore. No worry, I'll just clean it later.
The cut stopped bleeding and blood had dried all over my pale arm. The pain left as a different feeling numbed it: Happiness. I have not felt this in such a long time. As I cradled my arm, admiration and pride fueled my thoughts. I made this. For myself. Without anyone's consent. I felt independent and free and I liked it. Strangely, feeling this made me laugh. It was a mere chuckle which gradually built into laughter that echoed through my entire room ominously.
I took the pin I used and looked at it thoroughly. Subconsciously, I began licking the dried blood on my arm, running my tongue up, down and around my arm and cut, savoring the taste. Though copper-y, it held a sweetness that I found irresistible. After a while, I finish and pay full attention to the pin. I have never tasted blood before and I quite enjoyed it honestly.
So I'll keep it just in case.
What happens after now? I've never considered doing this. It was by mere coincidence that I overheard some students talk about it. It did sound painful. Who would want to do that? But now, maybe I agree with them. I've stood out in this world for too long. Maybe by doing this, I can fit in.
Inspiration hits me; I put the pin down and get an alcohol from a drawer. I open the bottle and carelessly pour the content on the cut—only to hiss as my arm burned in pain. I knew it would hurt but not this much. This is what animals might have felt when they're branded. Despite the harsh analogy, I find myself smirk. I now belong to no one but myself. No one can claim me or tell me what to do. Only I can do what's right or wrong for me.
And for me, this is definitely right.
vVv
That was freaky. Uber OOC! O.O And short -.-