Disclaimer: I'm not some rich snobby character developer in Namco! Get over it!
Author's Note: This is the first story in the anthology, and also the title story. It's... well, angsty. That's the kind of thing you'll have to expect from this particular anthology, because let's face it, something with a title that pleads to keep away from it normally will not be all sunshine and rainbows.
This is in Guntz's POV, which is quite rare for me. I love him, but I've not really written in his point of view much. So here it is, the first story that marks the start of another long, long collection...
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Don't try to heal me, Klonoa. Don't even think of it. I don't want you to try. Just leave me be.
I'm torn, I'm tattered beyond belief. I know that all too well. Don't offer me advice and tell me there's still hope, because there isn't. I'm broken. Don't fix me, Klonoa, I know I'm broken. Don't you dare tell me I'm not - don't you dare tell me I'll heal in time. I never will. There are things I've done, terrible things that tore my soul apart, and scars that are so deep you'll never even find them, let alone heal them. I've stolen, I've attacked and I've killed loads of times. I'm not proud of my crimes, but I don't want to be redeemed anyway, let alone from you.
Don't stand so close to me. I don't want your pity.
You say that if I had something to get off my chest, or something that hurt my feelings, I could tell you and you'd help. Fool. You know nothing, absolutely nothing about me. If you even knew a little about how cruel and fucking screwed up I can be, you would never have trusted me in the pyramids in the first place. But you trusted me, you actually trusted a bounty hunter with your safety, and look where we are now. In an underground jail beneath those pyramids. Fucking brilliant. Great one.
I shouted at you, but you never shouted back. You never protested. You just looked at me with those amber eyes of yours, sadness and confusion etched into them, and that somehow made me feel guilty. Guilty. One emotion I don't like. And you made me feel it. And you said that I should talk about my problems with you, and you'd help me sort them out. You obviously haven't realized yet that I'm hiding my scars from you because you want to heal them. Klonoa, you don't know what that'll do to me. You can't heal them, you fool, and if you tried you'd only end up pushing me away and abandoning me. They're a part of my life and soul now. I don't want them healed.
I pretend to be asleep. You're still awake, I know. I know because of the way you're breathing - sleeping people are more relaxed, and they breathe slowly and steadily. Your breathing is still quite normal. I sense you in front of me, staring at me with those enigmatic amber eyes (damn you, Klonoa, they confuse me so), and you have that look in your face. It's as if I'm your most precious posession, say like a porcelain doll, and I'm broken and scratched all over and you can't do anything to fix me. I can feel your touch, so soft and relaxing against my scarred cheek, gentle with no malice or hate. It's been years since I've last been touched like that.
You lie down next to me, and lean close.
Don't nuzzle into my chest. Don't stroke my cheek and kiss me. Don't show me that act of love-
You're such an idiot.
You snuggle close to me, asleep quickly, and I actually feel tears in my eyes, along with the lingering, burning sensation of your lips on mine. Damn you, Klonoa, why must you torment me so? I'm sorry, I care for you, I love you, I do. It's been such a little while, but people do fall in love fast if you think about it. But I can't care for you, I can't love you. Bounty hunters don't love. They don't care about anything. I shouldn't either, but you I've grown to care a lot, and it's driving me crazy.
You know that fucker. You know that purple cat... Janga. His name is Janga.
He killed my father, Klonoa.
His name's Janga and he killed the only member of my family I had.
Do you have the faintest idea what I had to go through to try to take revenge? I was five, God-damnit, I was five when my father died. Hardly old enough to fare for myself. I've lived alone since then and refused any care. I went starving for a few days at a time. All was fine then, because I had a goal. I was going to kill Janga and spent ages perfecting my aim. It's good to learn young, my father used to say, and he was right. I was ten when I became a bounty hunter.
I had money, and then I could properly live for myself, and... fuck, all hell broke loose. My goal began to fade. I was addicted to killing, to stealing and taking loot out of anyone's pockets. Living like an outlaw is no fun. I think that's the time my eyes became cold. People told me when I was little that I had bright blue eyes. Well, I looked at myself after six years in the mirror, and there they were, cold as marble and no glint in them whatsoever. Amazing what half a decade could do. I lost my purpose in life. I thought that I had no chance of getting revenge and I was destined to live like this through my time, without happiness, without purpose.
And then I was bounty hunting around here, I met you, I wanted to take you with me - cause hell, two's company. You're a lot different from the people around here. You have an unique aura surrounding you. You were different.
After a couple of weeks, which happens to be today, Janga appeared before me again. Fuck, all those times I'd waited, I'd searched for him, and I'd given up. Lunatea is a hell of a large place after all. And now he appears before me in the same fucking time when I'm off guard? Fate's so cruel.
I was so close. I was so close to killing him at last - and then he pulled the lever and I came tumbling down. You came ten minutes later. If you hadn't trusted me, you wouldn't be here. It would have been better if you weren't here, because you're not in my way. So indirectly, you're the reason I'm stuck here.
But I still can't hate you, because you remind me of myself. You're so naive, so innocent. I hate to be the one with bad news, but that isn't going to last long...
... And yet, I won't be telling you that. It's the painful truth, but I won't tell you yet. It's not considered a lie to keep the whole truth. The moment you hear that from me, your naivety and innocence shatters. I don't want that. As much as you annoy me, I love you because you're just you. It wouldn't suit you to be glum and depressing like I am.
I've sacrificed so much for this moment, to kill Janga and watch him die. If I take off my shirt you'll probably see the hundreds of scars etched onto my back, and a few more across my chest, stomach and arms. I've been hit by bullets, slashed and whipped at loads of times. Do you have enough confidence to heal all of them? Can you actually even heal even one of my scars, when you don't even know why I've been mutilated that way, when you know nothing of my sacrifices? I don't think so.
You shift against me and sigh, looking contented. I've never seen you look so happy, and for a moment I smile. But then I grimace, wondering what's becoming of me. You purr softly as my hand rests on your back, and I quickly snatch it away, disgusted that I've shown care. I shouldn't care. I never can. I'm much too fragmented, to shattered to be able to care properly, and you can't pick up the pieces. Not anymore.
I'm broken, Klonoa.
So don't go around telling me I'll heal. Don't try to heal me, show love towards me, or even show care in any way. It's far too late for that.
I don't want you to fix me.
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Imagine wanting to hate someone so badly for messing up yet not being able to, because that someone is loved by you still. It'll drive anyone crazy.
I personally like this one. I really should practice Guntz more often. He's fascinating when you're writing from his view. Of course, he's fascinating too in other stories - but hey, when you're in his shoes the whole perspective twists around so dramatically it's almost a parallel universe. Guntz's POV enables one to write in alternate universe without actually making the story AU.
-This story was completed 22th of August, in the year 2007.-