The pain would never seem to go away, no matter how long I waited for it to heal. I guess the wound in my heart turned into a scar along the lonely nights and empty days. I eventually tried to lock the pain away in my heart, burying it with experience after experience, new memories after new memories as time went on. Because I knew that time would never stop for me, never give me a break. So I had to deal with it on my own under those conditions.

I never did forget about father, the way he would always use to pat my back after I had done something to impress him, calling me "kid" all the time as we laughed and walked through hard roads in life together. I never forgot the way he would hug me during a thunderstorm when I was a child as I found myself crying in his long, caring arms. When he would tell me everything would be all right, and there was nothing to be scared of in the darkness.

But had he forgotten? It didn't matter anymore, I guess. He was dead. Dead. I kept repeating the words in my mind over and over again but it never sunk into my mind. He can't tell me to stop being scared of the darkness. He couldn't tell me nothing was there.

So what now, father? What? I've been surrounded by darkness for the past two years. Can you still tell me to not be afraid? Can you still say there's nothing to be afraid of?

My mom's been taking it even worse than I have, though. Only a few weeks later after we found out what happened to father did she get sick. That was two years ago, and she still can't get out of bed. The doctors say there's no way to help her. It was some kind of sickness caused by depression that couldn't be helped. There was no cure.

When graduation time came, she couldn't even come to school to see mel. I was ten, and graduating at ten was absolutely normal in this world. I was a good student, and wanted to run home to tell my mother all about the graduation.

I raced through the damp grass, the dew still not dried from the careful blades, their wet touch caressing my feet as I ran home. The clouds were dark and horrid, the depressing grayness reigning the land.

Soon in my run home, it began to rain. The clouds above evil, and no sun pierced the clouds today. The black sea of puff above the town roared with crazed lightning, the angels and deities above taking their anger out with deafening crashes and flashing lights. The raindrops were heavy and wet my clothes, dampening them and adding weight. I began to ran with full speed anyway, the cold rain motivating me to go home.

It only took me a while to realize what was going on. When I looked at my hand as my feet kept moving, I saw red. It wasn't blood, though. It was the rain. I slowed my pace and looked up to the sky to find drops of red rain coming down on me, landing on my skin like fake blood. Not good, I realized, still looking up to the sky as lightning above provided pep music for the attacking rain. I suddenly had a flashback of my father, telling me something I would remember all my life. I have experienced this rain before, I realized. One time, when it was raining just like this…

"Father, what is this rain? Why is it red and not normal?" I had asked him so long ago.

"Ah," he said, noticing the red rain that was pouring from outside the window, putting his hand out to let the droplets gather in his concaved hand. "This rain is said to mean something or someone close to anyone in this village has disappeared, and will never be seen again. It's a bad omen, and there's no stopping it," he told me, bringing his hand back out from outside the window, and pouring the red water onto the ground, creating a pool of red that looked so much like blood.

I didn't reply to him that time, I just stared at him as he walked away down the hallway, and I turned back to watch the red drops. That day, I had watched the rain until it had completely disappeared, somehow hearing screams of people in the black fog that ruled outside.

I returned to my present self, and began running again. My heartbeat began increasing. Just what was going on? What if something happened to mother? Was this omen meant for me? I had to find out.

I ran home as fast as I could, my heart pounding in my chest and the rain soaking my clothes with red, giving hints of it one at a time. It seemed to cling on me, as if it were some kind of leeching demon that wanted to kill me slowly with its bloodthirsty touch. I breathed in and out damp air, its refreshing touch ignored by my panic.

As I ran, I heard nothing but the splashing of water from the rain and the crashing of thunder and rolling of clouds. I saw nothing but red rain fall from the sky, blocking my sight one drop at a time. I felt nothing but the cold air that surrounded me like the devil's tight grip around me. I smelled nothing but the sick smell of rain growing on the grass and garbage around me. I was totally unfocused. My mind was clouded, just like the deviant, prevailing clouds did to the one and only sun. Where were you now sun? You used to be so powerful. How can you, something so powerful be taken down so easily? More proof that the things that never frown will always eventually break down.

I was soon near home, my shoes splashing through dark red puddles all the way. Ironically, approaching home made me anxious and panicky. I could feel eyes from their homes watching me through their yellow lit windows. When I finally reached the front of my home, something wasn't right.

The house gave some kind of eerie feeling, which made my heart feel much faster. I noticed the door was open just a crack, as if someone had forgotten to close it. I gulped down a nervous knot in my throat, taking most of my effort to swallow it. I opened the wooden door a little more, the sound of a dead creak coming from it, like a phantom moaning in despair as its spirit was banished to the real world forever, unable to rest like the other spirits.

A dead silence from inside the house scared me even more, the lights not turned on at all, giving a more eerie touch to it, as if it were haunted. I decided that I couldn't be scared of things as much anymore. Mother needed my help to get through this time of her depression. And I had to enter that house no matter what!

I opened the door all the way, and almost immediately, I wished I hadn't.

As more rain began to soak my clothes, my expression widened in a state of horror, waves of nausea hitting me one after another, my eyes shaking in a horrid way as they stared at the sight that was laid right in front of my eyes.

The bright thunder crashed in the sky once more, providing light into the scene, making it more dreadful to look at. I fell backwards, my stare still locked on what was inside the house. My expression was frozen, never getting a chance to change or be liberated at the least.

My stomach churned and churned, and I eventually threw up on the ground beside me, the warm, gooey liquid sticking to my lips, its foul odor dwelling on my tongue. I coughed hard, my body wanting to hurl out more. I stared back to the sight, knowing that I had to face it.

It couldn't be true… it couldn't be. I looked one more time, and one more time was all I needed to ensure myself that it was indeed true. There, remaining stationary in the air, was my mother. But she wasn't normal. She wasn't right.

The long, bed sheets that she had lived in for straight two years was wrapped around her neck, connecting to the ceiling light's shaft. Her expression was frozen in horror, her body dressed in a white nightgown. Her eyes were wide open, staring into blank space, thinking a thought only the dead could. Her feet hung disgustingly from the ends of her nightgown, the white scene looking ghostly, being framed by darkness.

At the absence of blood, I didn't think that she could actually be… I couldn't admit what I thought to myself, even. Not even in my thoughts. Could she really be…? I couldn't think of anything to do in the pouring, freezing rain. So I ran. I ran and told everyone I could. I ran and screamed and continued running and screaming for the rest of my life. Now that I have lost my father, my mother, my home, what was I to do? The townspeople had no choice but to send me to live with my distant Uncle and Aunt who also lived in Mirusan. And they weren't exactly good people, either.

Things were never the same again. And whenever it began to rain, I was never scared. No one ever had to tell me calm down and not be scared of the dark. Except whenever I saw the rain, I just had this one, repetitive thought. The thought that always spoke, "When can I turn back time?"

PoVS (Eight Years Later)

My Uncle and Aunt weren't ever respectful to me. I had never done anything to them, but they just… weren't good people. If you get what I'm saying.

Uncle Hiboshi took care of me and fed me, yes. If you could call scraps of leftover rice and meat food. Having no friends and no family to care for me, I constantly locked myself in the room they had given me, probably the smallest room imaginable despite their big house.

Whenever I did something perfectly normal, like walking on the dirty, hardwood floors, Uncle Hiboshi would tell me, "Hey! I just cleaned those floors! Why the hell are you stepping on them, you freakin' idiot?" he always seemed to yell. Whenever he did, I would always look to the floor. The wood I was standing on was grimy and dark with dust, looking like it hadn't been cleaned for years. Then I would turn back to him, giving him a confused and mean stare, as if to call him crazy.

Then he would tell me that he didn't like the look on my face. That it was disrespectful and I had to be punished for it. And then, he would take me to me to the backyard. It was always sunny outside when he did that. Sometimes, I got lucky and it was raining, so the pouring water could help others cloud the sound of cracking whips be heard. So I wouldn't hear it and concentrate on the cooling rain against my sore back as my own Uncle whipped me for walking around the house and looking at him.

My aunt even did it, too, occasionally when she told me I hadn't finished my food, when in the first place she hadn't given me any. On the rainy days I was being abused, while no one cared, I focused on the rain and the rain only. My eyes too worn out to cry, my back too sore all ready to hurt. The rain had been my only companion. Even thought it would constantly leave me. But feeling the wet, cold touch always made me feel somewhat glad.

The first times they did it, yes I was shocked. It was actually the first day I was at their house, where they told me that I couldn't be a bother and trouble to the household. I promised them that it wasn't a big deal, and I was a good kid. Then they "showed" me the backyard for the first time, telling me that I shouldn't compliment myself. So from that point on, I never really talked to them, sometimes afraid they would hurt me, and sometimes not giving a rat's ass of telling them anything at all.

Whenever it rained, I would always wish that they would take me away. I always wished that I could be just like them, free to fall and do anything I wanted, swim through the cold air and never reaching the ones around me. I had gotten too used to crying over the years I had been at their house, so whenever they decided to whip me for no reason at all, just for their own enjoyment, I just followed them to the backyard. Sometimes they would follow me. And they would slash that thing at my back to their heart's content.

I never cared anymore. The scars on my back would never heal, but we all have to sacrifice things in our life. I soon realized that they didn't love me. They didn't care about me. I only lived with them because they were my relatives. I only lived with them because I had no choice. No. That's wrong. I did have a choice. And I used it.

At the age of eighteen, eight years after I had found my mother dead after she had commit suicide, I decided to take my things and leave. It wasn't that hard, seeing as how they didn't give me much things anyway. All I had was my journal which I wrote in everyday, just jotting down thoughts, not of hate, or hope. I didn't have hope. I only wrote my thoughts. My neutral thoughts of the world. My philosophy, I guess. And my clothes, the ones I was wearing the only set I had. They decided to burn all my past possessions, saying that I had to let go. But I knew why they really burned it. They needed to feed the fire. They needed to make more fire… with my memories. They chose to give the fire my memories instead of the spare firewood that was in five stacks by the fireplace.

When I had left, I was sure they wouldn't miss me. I wouldn't miss them, either. I thought that, I had to leave, too, since I had lost all faith in what the village believed in. I didn't care about the truth. The truth hurt. I didn't care about love. I had none of that. And I sure as hell didn't care about my destiny. Since I still didn't know where my life was going. No one had ever answered the question I had asked my mother when she was still alive, before my father had died. No. Not died. Killed was more like it.

Leaving the village, I looked back at it all, trying to remember any good memories I had of it. As I counted the few I had left, none of them making my spirits higher, I just decided to leave, bringing nothing with me but a jacket.

But something was wrong. The day right after, after spending the night in the forest, I realized I was missing something. My philosophy journal. My only possession that belonged to my mind. So I went back to the dreadful place to try and retrieve it.

When I did, I never guessed what I was in store for. Actually, it just made my life worse, getting that stupid old book.

RETURN TO STORY

I walked through the forest quietly, watching my steps. If anyone sees me, I'll be dead. I'm sure they know by now that I'm gone, I thought. I placed my large, boyish hands on the wood of the trees, the soft bark not comforting at all. Not welcoming to the forest.

I was high up on a hill, looking down on the village area as the sun shone high in the sky, providing the fakest hope I've ever glared up at. I ran quickly down the hill, no one outside to notice me. The village was small, anyway the ground lush and green, the houses wooden and old.

I soon found myself in the hallway of the dreaded home, remembering all the times I had walked through this place to get to the backyard, unable to forget the horrible things they said and did to me, and unable to remember any good memories since there were none.

I quickly ran into my room and got it out, and I was halfway out the door when I noticed something. There, on a low, glass table, I saw a book of some sort. Of the eight years I've been in this house, I've never seen that book.

It was wide open and had my Aunt's handwriting on it. I picked it up, holding the small booklet-like thing in my hands, and began reading:

Journal,

Walter has run away from the village. It's about time. I began to wonder what he would do, consuming all of our money and food. I guess his whole clan is gone from Mirusan now. His dumbass of a father got himself killed, and Walter thinks his mother had commit suicide. Suicide my ass.

It had felt really good kill that bitch. What can I say? Void Core and I were running out of people to kill. I actually feel a bit sad that I killed her on her son's graduation, though. Well, it's not like she cared about him enough to go to the damned thing, anyway. What a useless mother. That's why I've been planning to kill her for so long, I'm sure it had been ages. I just couldn't wait. Hiboshi wanted to do the honors, but I killed her way before he could get a finger on her. Hah, my husband is getting much too slow.

Too bad there was no blood, though. It would've been more fun with blood spilled all over the floor. And if there was, it would've probably given poor baby Walter a heart attack. Well I say good riddance. Now we don't have to deal with the pestering Kasumi Clan anymore.

Signed, Hiboshi's one and only wife, Sankuro.

I clenched my fist. I crumbled the small book in my hands, crushing the paper. I grit my teeth and a mean expression spread across my face. Sankuro… works for Void Core? The assassin group that kills just for fun? And she killed my mother, and insulted my whole family, when she's part of it as well! This woman… I want to kill her… I want revenge. But I don't have enough power, I realized. That's right. I don't have enough power. I'll have to get it then…

With murderous thoughts running through my mind, I set the first thing on my revenge list, searching for any kind of way I could gain power to get revenge on my family. Heartless. Completely heartless is what the fucking bitch is. I'll kill her, and my uncle. Just wait. I'll kill them.

I thought more dreadful thoughts as I ran off into the woods, bringing my philosophy journal along with me, heading to the town of Hanayuki where I thought I might start a new life. And eventually, I did