Mercy Me
This is not a place for healing. One may live or die here, but one cannot hope. If you listen closely the corridors echo the ghosts of a thousand cries and groans and curses. The very air tells its own history of stale pain. And I- I bring no hope here. No healing. I have told myself otherwise. But I have lied. I am here to give these walls another ghost to hold, another scream to echo. I have come to kill. Despite, that was opposite of what my job really was.
"I've come to make the voices go away."
Bullshit. Yeah, I've come to make the voice go away, but I'm going to have to kill you. Total, utter bullshit. I dread every visit. Each of them different. Every one made me feel guiltier by the second. Gaara. He was unpredictable. Sometimes he would talk. Sometimes he wouldn't. At best he was a child, eager to be noticed no matter what. At worst Gaara was a demon from the very depths of hell. He was a beautiful disaster just waiting to happen. The quiet before a storm. The rain before a drought. Gaara. He was there. Whether you wanted him to be or not.
It's been a long day living with this. Its been a long time since I felt so sick. I took a long walk straight back home. I could've walked back to San Francisco.
Gaara, he needed to be destroyed. No matter what. He was wrong. Killing is wrong. Even if he didn't know any better or couldn't help himself he was still wrong. For that, and that reason alone, he needed to die. And I am the only person for the job. I know when his bloodlust screams. I know when he's confused. I know when he wants something bad enough to kill for it. I have the gift of Synesthesia. I can see colors where most people hear words or sounds. The colors grow intensely bright when he's angry. Fade to gray, when he's sad. And I can only guess what colors he makes when he's happy. I've never seen him happy.
I used to long for time alone. I used to long for a place of my own. And I'm losing faith in everything.I'm lost, so lost, I'm lost at sea, you see. I used to long for broken bones. I used to long for a casket to call my own. I never had a problem facing fear. But I'm done, over andout, my dear.
My job was to kill him when he is most vunerable. God knows, what would happen if anyone were to kill him at this very moment. My job is dangerous but I'd save so many lives. But it drives me insane. All my life I trained to save lives. Now I am to take one away. The thought of a next visit makes me shudder in excitement. Yes, the boy has killed people but the way he looks at me. That cold hard stare. The glowing red intensity of the word 'kill' when the word falls from his lips. It excites me. His vocabulary isn't exactly large. It usually consists of words like: kill, murder, spill, blood. But each time the colors are different. The word blood could be bright indigo, like a sun kissed blackberry or a deep brown, like moist dirt. Each sentence is like a new language. An overload of color flooding my vision. It's hard to even look at him. The sounds of his breathing are blue-black as midnight. Every visit I'm not sure what new color he will speak next. But I do know it will be amazing.
And oh mercy me, God bless catastrophe. There's no way in hell, we'll ever live to see through this so drive yourself insane tonight, it's not that far away and I just filled up your tank earlier today.
Okay, thanks to five VERY cool reviews I'm updating again. I'm not all that okay with his chapter but it'll suffice. It's short though but whatever-I updated. I'm really counting on the next chapter-it's Gaara pov. Well, check out my new fic, Unwell(a collection of all my oneshots plus a couple others.) Read and review!