Dead Rose Reaper 4
I don't own the Gorillaz, just my oc.
Why me?
Why'd fate hate me so?
Why did all these things have to happen to me?
I hadn't done anything wrong.
I was just trying to get by in life.
It's not fair!
I shouldn't have to deal with this!
I've seen nothing but death ever since I was little.
My own parents, murdered right in front of my eyes!
Why me?
Why them?
Why him?
Why did he choose death over us?
Weren't we important enough to fight death to be apart of our lives once more?
What was going thru his mind when he severed that chain to his body?
What could've make him do it?
What could I have done to make sure that lived and awoke to see us again?
Nothing.
I could've done nothing to save him. I was powerless, weak, and beaten to the point where I had to reach up to touch bottom. I wasn't able to do a thing. I couldn't bring him around again, I couldn't save my parents from becoming a killers' entertainment, and look where I am now. Cold, alone, and trapped within the darkness that was death to me. Just like my accident that I had a few weeks earlier. On my wrist was a tattoo of a rose that I had gotten to remind me of my mother; she had always loved roses and planted them in the garden of our old house before her body was mutilated beyond recognition as was my fathers.
The killer couldn't go after me; I was already hiding in the roses that began to bleed as though they had been wounded. The killer never bothered with looking outside for me; he figured he had scarred me enough and left the house with several pieces of valuable jewelry that had been passed down in my family. 'Greedy meanie! How dare you kill my parents just for some material things?" I thought quietly to myself, my vision going red. I can't remember what happened afterwards; I woke up next to mutilated pieces of the killer's body with his blood staining the road beneath me. I screamed.
Tick...Tock
Tick...Tock
Tick...Tock
I always hated clocks. Waking up with that irritable sound wasn't a good sign. I was still in my work uniform, but my heels had been replaced with a pair of fuzzy red socks. MY favorite fuzzy red socks. "No way. No one else knows about that except..." I looked over at my nightstand, blinking at the miniture grandfather clock that stood in place of my regular alarm. "Then, you are a Grim Reaper." He was standing there, leaning up against the door frame with a smug look on his face. "Why? Why does that thing want my soul?" I fidgited with the comforter as he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing his long legs like he used to.
"I don' kno, ta tell ya the truth. Las' time I caugh' him, he knock'd out me two front teef and left me in an alleyway. I wen' afta' him, but he ha' already got ta ya." I looked up, confusion clouding my mind. "Wait, are you talking about my accident?" Everything went cold in a matter of seconds. That thing tried to kill me. I felt sick again, bile slowly rising up my throat as I ran out of the bedroom to the bathroom across from it. The nausea remained as I swallowed the saliva that accumulated in my mouth, looking around for the bottle of pills that Stuart often kept in the medicine cabinet. "That's right, I threw them away." I sighed, plopping down on the toilet seat and holding my head in my hands. I wanted my razor and bandages.
"Threw those away too, along with alot of cash just to see a bloody psychiatrist." I moaned, ignoring the feeling of being watched. I already knew who it was. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that." 2D tugged the shower curtain aside, grinning as I tumbled off the toilet with a soft THUD. "That's not funny!" I shouted, rubbing the back of my head gingerly. "Sowry Abi." He held out his hand, but pulled back. "What's wrong now?" I asked, getting up and looking down at my bare arms. He had to have seen the scars that were probably up to my elbow. "When? Why?"
"After your funeral. I wanted... something... to ease the pain." My heart ached as I lied, my bangs hanging in my face to hide my teary eyes. I couldn't tell him the real reason. Everyone around me said that I'd heal; a lie that only a person in pain would know about. A year later and the scars on my heart remain, stitched with a thin thread. Then he came back. The thread broke and the scars have reopened, bleeding profusely over the rest of my organs. It's silent between us for a moment, with nothing but my sobbing breath as a sign that I'm still alive. The rustle of the shower curtain brings me to look up at him, one hand brushing my bangs back and the other wiping away the tears. "Pwease don' cry Abi."
I tried to smile at him. He had always been childish; it made me felt better when I was upset. He was always there, willing to make anyone's day brighter if it meant doing something embarrassing. When he wasn't asleep or high off the pills he took constantly for his headaches. He kept them either in his room or the bathroom, but mostly in his room that resided in the basement. I hardly went down there anymore. I locked the door and kept the key in my nightstand.
Drip...
"Crap." I muttered, wiping away the blood that started to pour from my eyes. It hurts alot, when my eyes bleed after crying for a while. 2D didn't seem to care if it got on his clothes; he just continued wiping them away like normal salty tears.
Aww, a sweet comforting moment between friends even if it is short. Things are going to get rough later though!
R&R please!
And be nice.