Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade.
Title: Silence
Rating: T (PG-13) for one swear-word.
Categories: Angst/Drama (hello, this is BROOKLYN!)
Summary: The Silence is what kills me.
Status: Short one-shot.
Notes: Dark Brooklyn-centric one-shot. 897 words.
Inspiration: Staind gives you these kind of ideas… ((shudder))

SILENCE

The Silence is what kills me.
Dark Brooklyn-centric.

Flowerperson
© 2005

To my mother… to my father… it's your son… your pride and joy.

Yeah right. Everyone including myself knows that isn't true. I'm no one's pride and joy – I'm everyone's plague and curse. I cause so much pain, suffering and hate that everyone has learned to look down at me in distaste. Even little children spit on me if they see me walking along the road or in shops. Not that I'm allowed to walk around in public anymore.

Oh no, I'm far too unstable… dangerous… different.

A freak, that's what they call me. I'm a freak of nature; a freak of darkness. I'm dissimilar to everyone else… I do not have a heart… I am not human… I do not care for my fellow man.

And why should I care for simple humans! They hate me! Well, I hate them too! Humans have ruined the beauty of nature with their towering, industrial buildings and their suffocating, opaque pollution. Their destructive persona slowly kills off the wildlife and the greenery that our world was once gifted with before you ruined it.

Instead of birds chirping, all I hear is silence.

Are my screams loud enough for you? Should I try and yell louder? Should I attempt to get rid of this thick silence, the undeniable tension wherever I go, when I walk into a room and your hushed whispers cease?

Turn up the volume dial; I must have been deafened by the silence.

I'm sitting here, locked up in my head. They won't let me out. They're keeping me in here. They'll never let me out. Soon, they say. Soon, when you're all better, you'll be normal.

But I know just as they do that I'll never be normal. I'll always be this way. I'll always be a freak.

I remember everything they said, but they act like I'm stupid. They think that because I do not have a heart, I do not have a brain either. But I do, and I probably use it more than they do. My intelligence is fine. My IQ results are not faulty. I do not require some snooty psychiatrist to try and figure out what's wrong with me.

We all know that the only thing wrong with me is everything!

The silence takes me nowhere. It takes me oh so fast and I cannot stop it. We're travelling too fast! Someone let me get off! I don't want to continue with this silence!

Why can't you listen to my screams?

Instead of my screams, all I hear is silence.

I need someone to help me (but no psychiatrist). I need someone that wants me. I need someone that doesn't think I'm a freak. Alas, the chance of me finding someone like that is zero percent. I have to face it; it's just me and the silence.

You obviously don't know how to listen. If you did, you could hear my choice – my desire to just end my silent life… my pathetic life… my different life… my freakish life.

All your insults and curses make me feel like I'm not a person. And you're right! I'm not! I'm just a freak! A freak, freak, freak! Why do you care about my feelings? Do I even have feelings? I guess we'll never know…

Yes, you shit. I have feelings. How else would I enjoy the soft flapping of a butterfly's wings on my finger? How else would I desire someone that would accept me? How else would I withdraw into my shell when you insult and poke fun of me? How else would I grow angry when you destroy this world that you have been gifted with?

I feel like I'm nothing. You make me feel like I'm nothing.

Please, make me feel like something. I want to be something – something more than a freak. I don't want to be different – but still unique in my own way. I don't want to be like everyone else, but I don't want to be like me.

Instead of your insults, all I hear is silence.

I'm fucked up because you are. You did this to me. You shunned me, so I've been left to fester and rot into this freak of nature… freak of darkness… that you fear and cower away from. Yes, recoil away from me, stupid idiot! You pathetic fool! You turned me into this oddity and now you fear your very own creation!

Very similar to Dr Frankenstein and his monster, don't you think?

I need attention but it's the attention that you couldn't give. I need positive support, not negative comments and physical abuse.

Don't hit me; my skin will only grow tougher. Don't laugh at me; my sense of humour will just be more sadistic. Don't insult me; I'll just take it as a compliment. After all, isn't that what you want me to take it as?

But whatever you do, don't ignore me. Don't pretend I'm not here because slowly I will slip away into nothingness

That's what kills me – the silence. Silence has murdered me. My life has been stolen by the Silence. However you put it, the fact is that the Silence is what kills me. The Silence is a killer. The Silence is a criminal – it must be stopped.

Instead of your nervous laugh, all I hear is silence.

The Silence is what kills me.

Authoress' Notes

Short randomness. Dark Angst? Hell yeah! This is Brooklyn!

Flowerperson