A Broken Shadow
Dark brick rushed past. The sound of his boots upon the cold cement thudded in time with his heart as he walked briskly through the alleys, weaving in and out of the shadows, staying hidden, seeking solitude. There was solitude to be had in his abode underground, but the memories there would voraciously eat at his mind; judge him -- something he could do without at the given moment. The crisp air and the clear night from above were calming in its chill and for the briefest moment, he was content with this. V finally stopped, leaning haggardly against an alley wall. A black gloved hand clutched at his chest and he swallowed hard as he tried to gain control of his sporadic breathing. His legs were weak and he succumbed at last to its will, slumping down onto the cold cement, bowing his head, withdrawing into himself to help ease the overwhelming pain that refused to go away.
He killed them unremorsefully and with dark pleasure. It was all a misunderstanding -- everything.
What problems he and she had had, there was nothing they couldn't get through, nothing that couldn't be over come. He realized that now. He was not one to act without thinking, to see the whole of the situation through every angle possible, leaving nothing overlooked -- the bigger picture. But it was quickly eluding him. It had eluded him for quite some time now.
V had tried to remain strong for as long as he could but he felt it was all a backlash from the previous block of time that had been relentless to his mind. He should've been happy then yet what sorrow settled over his heart had remained. It never left. There were reasons for it, he knew. Nothing just happened. But it was clearly beginning to feel like it did. Taking a deep breath, he let his hand fall in his lap and leaned his head against the wall. He closed his eyes, taking in the night sounds, the tranquility of the moment that seemed to have passed as his chest rose and fell. The familiar ache caused his brow to furrow as if in physical pain.
He lead a double life -- one of pure idea and the other of flesh and blood; torn in two in every possible aspect. And she deserved so much more than what he had been giving to her, or not giving to her. He blamed himself. Even now in this impenetrable night as he sat, appearing as if he were one of his makeshift dummies. He didn't blame her ... he never did. Not even then, when the grass had been alive with snakes and underhanded corruption, deceit, and manipulation. He had lost faith then, in that he had confessed to himself. Something can only be broken down into its basic elements ... and once achieved, it can't be broken down further. He felt he was eroded to the core and any further means was irrelevant.
He grunted as he stood up, using the wall for balance as he slowly got to his shaky legs. He wouldn't go back even though a note would be polite, he couldn't risk her being there ... She may not realize it, but V was doing this for them. He knew when he wasn't right. And he would rather face it all himself than burden her with his tripe and needless issues.
In this world, it was all or nothing. There is no in betweens.
No, he thought wearily to himself, it's not forever. The sun was bound to come up sooner or later and shadows needed to withdraw from its garish light.
The last week of October's wind blew, rustling his cloak, beckoning him on with the decision that he had so suddenly made. The night would return, he reassured. In due time, all would be made right.