Well, I must say, this is probably my darkest work to date. I really enjoyed it, though. I'm secretly quite proud of it. (I guess it's not so secret anymore, though, is it?) Inspired by a conversation with yanocchi and beta'd by KwiditchJunkie.
This story is in two parts. There is another part coming, already written. I just thought it flowed better seperated. Enjoy and review!
Death
You fucked up.
You fucked up, and they were the ones that paid. Your freedom fighters. Your brothers, your sisters, your friends, your family. The ones that you found, alone and desperate and afraid, and you took them in. You made them strong, made them fierce, made them fighters—the kind of fighters that fought for reason, the kind that had a cause, a goal. You made them yours, but you fucked up, and now they're gone.
You fucked up, and you know it's your fault. It was supposed to be a routine raid. Knock a few soldiers out, steal some supplies, maybe scare 'em a bit. But you fucked up. You didn't know that there were more troops coming, didn't know that they'd been sent to get rid of you. You didn't know that they were waiting. You didn't know they would burn down your forest and take your home with it. You didn't know they'd capture you and throw you in dirty cells and kill you.
You fucked up, and they made you watch.
They made you watch as your freedom fighters slowly starved, bellies aching and growling as you gave them your own minuscule prison rations. They made you watch as they cried, terrified and hungry and in pain, holding each other until they fell asleep. They made you watch as they withered away, not just from the starvation but from the loss of hope, the desperation, the knowledge that they were going to die and they couldn't do anything about it. You couldn't do anything about it. Not a damn thing.
They made you watch.
They made you watch as they took them, one by one, sobbing and screaming and pleading to stony-faced men in red uniforms. They made you watch as they tied them up, some still crying and struggling, and some looking already dead with glassy eyes and defeated faces.
They took you outside, held you down, and made you watch.
They made you watch as they lit the first on fire. It wasn't what you'd imagined—no, it was so much worse. It started with one stick lit on fire, then it spread to two sticks, then four sticks and then before you knew it there was a full-blown fire beneath his feet. He was screaming, voice breaking and tears running down his face as the fire spread to his shoes and worked its way up. He screamed, over and over, until he couldn't scream at all. You hoped he was dead. Death was kinder than pain.
They made you watch as they lit the second one on fire. You knew it was coming, but you didn't think it'd be so soon. As soon as the first stopped screaming, they started on the second. As the flames consumed his body and his cries ceased, you wondered which death was worse; the death of a boy who was ignorant towards his death, or the death of a boy who had seen and heard and smelled his own death just moments before.
They made you watch as they lit the third child on fire. She wasn't screaming when they started. She didn't struggle as they tied her up, just lied there unmoving, like a broken doll. Her eyes were glazed over, her face pale, and you wondered if she had already died. Then the fire licked at her toes, and she screamed.
You screamed with her. You screamed and you cried and you begged them to stop. You struggled against them, tried to push them away, but they laughed and grabbed you by the chin, jerking your head forward and forcing you to watch.
They made you watch. You lost count of how many. You didn't care. They stopped struggling, and so did you. You were a broken doll, like the little girl, your limp body held up between two soldiers. You stopped struggling, and you stopped screaming, and you stopped crying. You were broken. You wondered if this was what death felt like.
One after another they burned, and they made you watch. You couldn't look away. They made you watch as the fire claimed your sisters and brothers, your friends and family. You lost them, every goddamn one of them, and you couldn't do anything but sit there and watch.
You don't know how long they made you watch, but it felt like an eternity. Day gave way to night, and you remember thinking that the sight of your last fighter covered in flames, illuminating the darkness with brilliant oranges and reds, was one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen. You closed your eyes as that final fire died, taking with it the last of everything you had come to love in the past few years.
Then you were reborn.