Years later you're just as hopeless and as worthless as you were the day you received the stigma of the rage.
You haven't seen Gamzee in 3 sweeps, and he is still all you can think of. How pathetic.
You ran. You ran as far and as fast as your feet could take you but he always caught up to you. Each time he caught up to you he had a creative weapon to torture you with, most were different forms of your sickles as this one was. In one hand he had a wooden toy sickle in one hand and one made of diamonds and ice in the other. He caught your neck with the wooden one and painted on your stomach with the other one. It was pretty how the tiny slivers of light glimmer red across the cellar walls with your poor undeserving blood.
How strange, this time you were in a cellar. Are you that used to the pain to actually notice where you actually were? How dismal. You couldn't be more pathetic than you already were but no one could ever care about you. To be pathetic you had to be WORTHY of someone's apathy. You weren't even worthy of a decent person's company.
"HEY BITCH. are you paying any attention to me sweetheart? I MOTHERFUCKING ASKED YOU A MOTHERFUCKING QUESTION SO YOU BETTER FUCKING ANSWER. Please i wanna hear your cute little voice again. OR MOTHERFUCKING ELSE. oh how i'd hate you accidentally kill someone as sweet as you!"
"OKAY! HERE I AM, SEE? IM ANSWERING, I PAYING ALL OF MY ATTENTION TO YOU, YOU'RE ALL I CAN THINK OF, SEE?"
You have now stooped so low as to beg and croon to him, to receive any kind of interaction with the one that has forever stained your memory with his beautiful purple blood. He doesn't deserve you as even a knife sharpener. He might as well use you to paint beautiful an gruesome masterpieces, dipping brushes into your already exposed veins.
"NO I MOTHERFUCKING CAN'T. just maybe you could just whine and cry just a little bit louder for me please? I MOTHERFUCKING SAID PLEASE."
And with that he yanked the wooden sickle back making Karkat run into his cold body. You let out a scream and you could feel the edges of Gamzee's lips curl into a sinister smile. He then took the sickles away and threw them into the ceiling, which they then stuck with precision into the rotted wood. He caressed your cheek and carefully turned you around and then kneeled down and began to examine your bleeding stomach.
"oh no, this simply won't do! HOW CAN I MOTHERFUCKING PLAY WITH A MOTHERFUCKING BROKEN DOLL?"
As he talked softly he caressed and tickled your stomach and as he screamed he dug sharp fingernails into tender skin. You screamed and lurched forward with every switch of mood which both angered and pleased him at the same time. He then began to cry and grab at your chest. He tangled his fingers in your long unkempt and knotted hair. When his mouth was a centimeter away from yours he began you talk in the nicest and kindest tone that was ever possible. He would rant about how he missed you and how he loved every single bit of you and how much he wished for you to be happy. When you relaxed and sunk into his body, he flipped and took a dagger made of obsidian and plunged it into your heart.
You woke up with a jump, with hands clutching your mouth and your heart. You scream out in rage, pain, love, hate and a dozen other emotions, but you struggle to even make a sound because your throat is raw from your yelling and screaming over Gamzee and the loss of your friends. That Karkat died with his friends. You are just a hollow husk of what is left of his poor abused body. You've changed completely because of him, because of those scars. And mostly because he left you without so much as a backwards glance. You miss him so much that you try in every way possible to bring him back, but you just can't do it. You recreated his pants and wear them every day just as he did, you keep long unkempt hair just as he did, you paint your face just as he did, believe in miracles just as he did, you drank Faygo and prayed to the messiahs just as he did. Everything was just. As. He. Did. You weren't an actual troll anymore. You were a copy, a miserable fake. You didn't even fucking remember exactly what he looked like anymore. Everything, every absolute thing that ever did call itself real, was your fault. Just as he did, you did.