Mercy Me
I don't want to kill him. The colors. They will be gone. The huffs of raven when he breathes, each breath much more important than the last. His name color- mud brown with specks of sky blue in it, mushy like oatmeal. The lime green spirals of the sound of the knife sliding in. It will all be gone. No one can give me colors like he can. That's why I love him and that's why I hate him. He's forced me to rely on him. He's given me a reason to let him live. But if anything, he also has given me a reason to live. Each color, a plead, a scream, another reason to live life to its fullest, even for a moment longer. He's given me something to look forward to. I shake my head at that thought. Letting him live, that wasn't even an option. He kills people. He needs to be punished. But is it right to kill someone as punishment for murder? That's like fighting a war for peace. Stupid. Ineffectual. Uncalled for.
He screamed as I walked in the doorway. The colors float around. Each different color escorted by a puff of midnight. I can't comprehend what he says. I do know that it probably isn't very friendly. I could see the faint streaks of mango, still lingering in the air from an l. His words, they're colorful but they all have an orange-red glow tinge, like the multi-colored leaves of a tree in the middle of a fall sunset. He's angry, bothered. Annoyed. As the last remnants of the colors fade away, his sudden silence dawned on me. It also disappointed me. It disappointed me to a point where
I finally realized I was addicted. I craved those colors. I craved him. And like any good addict I'd always need "just one more" fix.
"She showed me things I never knew existed. I'd do anything for her. Even murder, if I believed it was necessary. How can something like that be wrong if it's done with love?" His sudden whispering caught me off guard.
Purple swirls, a dash of crimson, a dab of sage, cotton candy pink with faint candy apple green stripes, every color you could think of plus colors you didn't know existed-it was all there, plain as day for me to see. And I'm going to kill the person who showed me this? It's something to think about.
"They're beautiful..." I mused to myself, transfixed on the last brilliant shade of teal exploding in to a lighter, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky-blue, not quite realizing what I had said aloud.
"What?" He asked in a small, soft voice, exactly the opposite tone of how he was acting earlier.
"The colors" I said nonchalantly, still not knowing really what I was saying.
"What colors?" His voice still small, child-like, and full of wonder. Sometimes it's hard to believe he's killed people.
"The colors you make when you talk they're-" I stopped myself, finally realizing what I was talking about and who I was talking to.
"I'm sorry." I mumbled the pathetic excuse for an apology. What good was the word sorry? What would change by saying sorry? It's the most useless word in the dictionary. But also probably one of the most used.
"It doesn't matter. It's not like I could see them if I wanted to anyway." He snapped, his tone cold, all traces of wonder and child-like vulnerability were gone. Like the last few minutes I spent was with a different Gaara.
"Gaara" I said, reaching a hand out to comfort him. He jerked away like he just touched fire and burned his hand and turned away from me. How stupid of me; he obviously didn't like to be touched.
"Gaara" I said again, this time not touching him.
When he finally turned to me and put on his poker face, finger encircled around the knife. I don't have another face so I just wore my regular one. The one that is home to a million different tears and at least twice as many emotions.
"Gaara, you're color-blind aren't you?" I asked softly, even though it was more a conformation than an actual question. His eyes shifted and he finally focused on mine.
"Yeah" he said slowly, like it was a shame to admit it or a deep, dark secret. Who knows? Maybe to him it was.
I chuckled a little, at the irony of him being color-blind,
"Do you think that it's funny that I'm color-blind?" he whispered in a dangerously quiet voice, fingers pressed harder on the knife handle.
"Is this another reason for you to treat me like a dog like my old man did? That would be no surprise," he whispered, a little louder than he had the first time, measuring each word like a dose of poison. His words were the color of a fall sunset again and with each word it got redder and redder and less orange. The urge for blood lingered in the air, no longer controlled.
"You're just like the rest of them." He said in a small voice. At that point I should have ran away as fast as I could, should have at least walked out and shut the door, just have done something to get away from him. He was Gaara and he had a knife. But I did something that probably would have gotten me killed if we both saw it coming. When I should have been running away, I found myself doing the exact opposite. I found myself holding him close, cradling his head like a baby. I didn't want to pull away from him, I didn't want to let go, give up the last facade of my sanity to him; he had everything else of mine. I was obsessed. The way his smooth, flawless skin melted on to mine, the contours of our body fit each others perfectly, like the purpose of his existence was made for me to hold him, his scent, fresh like wood, the navy huffs of his breath in deep contrast to the pale gold color that drifted out of my mouth as I breathed. The rise and fall of his chest, in synch with mine and unmistakably clear. The knife was released. And Gaara, notorious killer of over thirty people, let me hold him.
"We're some pair, Gaara, you can't see enough colors and I see too many." I whispered softly in his ear, as a mother would, a small act of reassurance that he probably never experienced before. His sudden shivering as my breath fell on his earlobe excited me. For some reason I felt in place, like it was something meant to be, in his arms, I felt like I belonged there. And for the first time in my life I had the vaguest of feelings; that I was right. And in the back of my mind I know I am. We're some pair.
Sorry for the late update. I said I'd update yesterday but I didn't. Please don't kill me. Well, I hope you enjoyed it. I think this was the best chapter I've written. Review please!