Author's Note

I give to you: the conclusion of The Path of Madness!

Although, I will say one thing: Even though I'm planning on stopping the story here, if I end up getting enough people begging me to continue (as unlikely as that seems XD) I may or may not continue the story. HOWEVER, until then, this is the end, I'm marking this story as complete, c'est fini, yaddah yaddah yaddah.

Anyways, thank you all for your support and kind feedback! That's what kept me writing ^^

So, without further delay: the third and (for now) final chapter!

xxx

CHAPTER THREE:

Now and Always, Aya Drevis

She was cold.

She hugged the gray shawl tighter around her slim shoulders as she shivered once more, breath visible in small puffs, drifting and dissipating into the early daytime air.

Had she always felt this frigid inside?

She'd been pondering that quite a bit lately, for one reason and one reason alone: the boy. Aya thought for the umpteenth time about how suddenly he'd come back into her life, and how topsy-turvy he'd made it. She knew very well that she'd never be as troubled as she was then if he'd never showed up. A part of her, albeit a small part that refused to die, vehemently blamed him for messing with her head, trying to change her from being the person she wanted to be.

Or at least, the person she had thought she'd wanted to be.

As aforementioned, a tiny bit of herself thought that it was all the boy's fault that she was suddenly so painfully conflicted. But there was an underlying truth, she knew, that she had been at war with herself all along. It had taken her an eternity to realize it, but now, thanks to the boy, she did.

And Aya had never felt more lost.

She meandered about the thinly-wooded area, eyes drifting over the scenery she was too deep in thought to admire. Her tightly-laced boots stepped lightly upon autumn's dead leaves, as more swayed above with the wind on the limbs of the near-barren trees. Although she enjoyed the warmth and brightness of spring, she also had a deep-seated liking for fall as well. She had to admit, she really did relish in the chill of the autumn winds caressing her skin as much as she did spring's sunlight. Or at least, she used to. Now, she only associated the once-welcome cold with the same cold that she felt now, deep, deep within her very core. The breezes that had once brought her a semblance of nostalgia and serenity now only reaped doubt and ache.

Moreover, she also couldn't help but think again of the things that the blonde boy had told her in the past two days., as much as that one part of her really didn't want to. She knew, however, that it had to be done sooner or later.

Overcome by a sudden weariness, she gradually slowed her walk until she'd come to a complete stop and leaned up against a nearby tree. She exhaled, her breath dancing in the chilly air before disappearing altogether. She idly contemplated why she couldn't just vanish as well. It would have been a lot easier on her if it were possible. Aya sighed again. No such thing could be done, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her problems weren't going away. She had to do something about them, whether she wanted to or not.

She thought of the boy's words from the previous morning. A psychopath... A heartless, remorseless killer... That's what he'd called her father. Or rather, what he accused her of believing. Which was most certainly not the case. Her thoughts drifted to the bespectacled doctor who'd fathered her, and began to really piece together what she truly thought of him.

Memories flowed back to the forefront of her mind, and she was brought back to the happier times, the simpler times. The times where she never knew of her father's plot to transform her into a doll, when she and Snowball would happily venture about together while Father conducted his experiments with the help of Maria. She remembered hating Maria. Yes, she remembered that well. It was a vivid hatred that returned along with the memories, burning and burning away, on however small a scale, at her current views of Maria as little more than an average handmaid, more or less a friend. She banished the hatred quickly, to the best of her abilities, as the last thing she wanted was to cause more trouble. However, she did take note, as she thought of her maidservant, that her eyes were a rather brilliant green...

She would look exceptionally breathtaking in a new dress...

And her beautiful eyes would serve well forever preserved as glass...

...

What was she thinking?

Aya violently shook her head, hands tightly gripping her sable locks. No, no, no, no no! Her head began to throb and ache, and it took quite some time for her thoughts to settle again. After regaining her senses, she sighed raggedly and fell back against the tree again, forehead chilled slightly by a very slight sheen of perspiration. Why was this happening to her? She'd never felt this way before, but now...

It was just so unfair.

None of this would have happened if that boy hadn't have shown up. She wouldn't be feeling so lost, so confused. It was all his fault.

But then again, she mused, she could go back further. Was it her mother's fault for sending him? She wouldn't have been able to if she weren't dead, though. And she wouldn't be dead right now if Father hadn't killed her. So...

Was everything Father's fault?

Aya bared her teeth in anger. Anger at herself, mostly, for ever conjuring such a mad, mad suggestion. The mere thought of her precious father doing this to her was inconceivable. No. It most certainly was not his fault that she felt so pained. His beloved face flashed in her mind, and she smiled. But something was wrong. Instead of that light hearted relief she felt when she used to think of Father, now there was only a dark nothingness.

She felt nothing for her Father.

And in the moment she realized this, Aya felt more terror than she had during the curse, running for her life from the misshapen undead.

Her whole life, she'd been convincing herself that her father was the person she'd loved the most, that he was admirable in every way, and someone she held close to her heart. Then why was it that she wasn't feeling all the love she'd experienced previously?

Aya's pale, cold face flushed with rage. It was obviously that boy's fault! Everything was! If he'd never shown up, none of this would have been happening! She would have been able to continue her father's work without hindrance! She could have been happy! She could have been happy...

Are you sure, Aya?

She froze, then untensed herself and scowled. Him again.

You don't wish to talk to me? That is understandable.

Spot on.

Regardless, we do need to finish our talk. Whether you want to or not.

From the dawn-cast shadows emerged the golden-haired youth, in all his ethereal, undead glory. He was smiling, she noted. Aya's glower deepened, mentally venting all her hate on him, wishing he'd just die again, just burn up on the spot. And that smile... Who did he think he was? Did he think he'd won or something? That she would just up and throw away everything she'd ever known to be true without a fight?

"I never expected you not to fight me," he stated in that soft tone of his, smile vanishing in favor of a slight frown, as if he were disappointed.

"Stay out of my head," she growled in a way much unlike the former Aya Drevis. If the boy was taken aback by this gesture of hostility, he did an exceptional job in hiding it.

He shrugged. "As you wish. But therein lies the issue, Aya," he responded with all the serenity about him as an old-fashioned gentleman, which, she supposed, was appropriate. "Your mind," he went on, as if he hadn't made it obvious enough. This only served to fuel her anger at him.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, beautiful features marred with animosity and frustration. "For your information, there never was an issue! Everything was perfectly fine until you came back!"

His slightly crestfallen frown immediately grew darker and harsher, an expression on him dawning that Aya was certainly not comfortable with. "That's not true," he murmured, stepping closer. Aya pressed her back against the tree, eyeing him with caution. "Just how long are you going to lie to yourself?"

She hesitated. "What do you me-"

"I mean," he murmured, getting closer and closer to Aya as he spoke, "you and I both know what the problem is here. And it's not me, Aya. It's you."

The young woman gritted her teeth, and felt her eyes well up with hot tears the more he spoke, and the more she realized what he was saying was the absolute truth. She began to shake, falling silent, and mind abuzz with pain and frustration. But still, he kept his same relatively cursory demeanor, and that did her emotions no good, either.

"You can't honestly still think that there's nothing wrong with ripping people from their families and ending their lives for your own selfish obsession, can you?" he inquired, tilting his head to one side. His shoulders were relaxed, and his tone was relatively light for all the seriousness it carried. His casual appearance did nothing more than rile Aya up even more. How could he appear so nonchalant when he was such a big problem?

He frowned again, deeper this time. For a moment, Aya feared that he'd gone back on his word and looked into her mind once more. But even if he did, to her surprise, his words did not betray it. "Your silence is unsettling," he commented, adding another item to the growing mountain of things that were infuriating Aya. As if she were the unsettling one.

His hands slowly curled into fists, and anger ghosted across his features in small microexpressions. Aya's eyes widened unintentionally, for she had had no idea he was capable of... anger. Not true anger. Not the kind that drove men to sin. But there he was, obviously at the end of his rope, which she'd formerly just assumed was never-ending. How wrong she had been.

"Answer. The question. Aya," he spoke in tight, almost cut-off words, accentuating them, perhaps. Aya's thoughts were tripping over each other, and for a moment, the only things she was able to get out of her mouth were quiet stutterings, as she was still overwhelmed by the fact that this docile ally of hers was capable of such a... human emotion as anger. But wait, she thought. Wasn't she supposed to be the angry one? Hadn't she been, until a mere moment ago? How was it that he was able to so easily turn the tables on her?

Then, just as his mouth was opening to say something even more beseeching of a response, Aya was finally able to procure a coherent sentence to the question it seemed she had to think years back to remember. Much to the boy's visible chagrin, it was most definitely not an answer he was expecting. "Mind your own business..."

The anger seemed to dissipate, and the boy raised his blonde eyebrows in surprise. A very small part of Aya was briefly diabolically delighted in the fact that she'd caught him off guard. "What?" he nigh-whispered.

Her turn to be angry again. Perfect. "I said..." Aya, out of the blue, shoved the boy away from her with all the force she possessed. "Mind your own business!" The boy stumbled backwards, and failed to manage to stay on his feet, falling to the ground with a small noise. His expression was one of unadulterated confusion and hurt, like a kicked puppy. This was probably the first time in her entire life that Aya had ever done this kind of thing to anyone, really. A part of herself felt racked with guilt, a part that she refused to indulge at that particular moment. She was too far gone in her anger. And Holy Powers That Be, it felt good.

And upon her poor victim, she released her emotions, all pent up inside of her head, a most improper cage. The tempest would not be silenced. When she looked upon the shocked face of the boy, all she felt was a seething, unquenchable hatred. He was the reason for her confliction. He was the reason for her suffering and agony. And she was going to rectify his mistake, if it was the last thing she did.

A thought crossed her red-hazed mind, and a grin spread across her ivory face. If only he could have seen that face he was making... That appalled, betrayed, perfect face. Flaxen brows upturned in confusion, shading a single hazel pool of regret and anguish. If only he would stay that way forever.

Forever.

And then, overcome with the giddiness reaped by her sudden thought, she began to laugh. And laugh... and laugh. More of a cackle, really. Not a sound any sane person would make. At that moment, she was so out of touch with her true emotions. She could have been angry, or sad, or anything, really, and she would have had no idea. All she had been previously feeling was suddenly blocked out, and replaced with an overwhelming torrent of uncontrollable giddiness.

Was this what Father felt?

Before long, she also began to lose touch with her surroundings. Aya's eyes were locked on the boy, yes, but she wasn't seeing him. So she did not react when he gathered his bearings and rose from the ground tentatively. She did not see the look in his eye. Despite what he did next, it was not a look of anger, but one of sadness, with a dash of fear and remorse.

Next thing she knew, there was a resounding crack and her head was suddenly jerking to one side. A moment later, a dull pain blossomed on her cheek, turning it a deep red against the pallor. He had slapped her. He had slapped her.

Time seemed to halt, allowing for Aya's muddled, subdued thoughts to process all of this. While her mind was suddenly kicked into a whirring motion, her body remained rigidly still, her blue eyes staring off into nothing. All while the boy watched. Not that she noticed him at all, of course. Without realizing it, Aya's eyes began to tear up. Whether this was more of a subconscious reaction to being smacked, or if it was due to the multitude of emotions swirling about her mind, she did not know. Either way, before the first tear fell, she was being hugged by the boy.

As she slowly drifted back to the plane of the mentally "there", Aya registered a voice. It was most definitely the blonde boy's voice. What he was saying, she had no way of knowing; his voice sounded very distant. Even his touch, though she was cradled in his arms, felt surreal. Almost as if she were dreaming.

After what seemed like an eternity (but, again, she had no way of knowing), Aya's eyes slowly opened. She had not registered them closing in the first place, but maybe that was just a consequence of her emotional/mental breakdown.

She was looking up, and focused her doubled vision to see the boy's face. He looked terribly distraught, she noted. She also noticed that she was lying down, her upper body lying across the boy's lap. Her first instinct was to try and say something. Anything. However, she was finding it difficult to make any sort of coherent noise at all.

It took a mere moment for her to receive a response to her efforts. "...ya? Aya? Are you alright?" Aya heard his words, but it was as if she had no idea as to their meaning. They sounded foreign, alien. They could have been vulgar death threats and she would have had absolutely no idea. Not that she could rouse the emotion to care, of course. After her little episode, she was beyond spent. All she wanted to do was curl up there, close her eyes, and sink into nothingness. She felt tired beyond words. As unconsciousness beckoned, and her eyelids fell to half-mast, the voice of the boy pierced through again.

"Aya! Wake up!" he commanded in a rather harsh tone. Though whether he meant it or not, she couldn't tell. But she knew, even in her state, that he was dead set on keeping her down to earth by whatever means possible, and she figured that trying to sleep again wasn't worth the trouble it could potentially cause. So, she slowly, carefully sat herself up and shifted off of the boy's lap and onto the leaf-littered grass beside him.

"Aya..." he murmured, and at once, everything came back to her: Jean Rooney, her birthday, the boy's arrival, her father's book, the question, her answer, begging, yelling, pushing, anger, hatred, burning, laughter, insanity, Father, slap, tears, hugging, falling, falling, falling...

And then, she came to her conclusion, once and for all.

"You were right," she whispered. "About everything." She pulled her knees to her chest and hid her burning face. Words fell from her lips, and although she wasn't exactly sure what they were, she knew what the general idea was, and that was enough for Aya at the moment.

"Now I'm starting to wonder how long I've been crazy. And all those people I've killed... I wonder if they thought about that too? Maybe they were thinking, in their last moments, 'Oh my lord, this girl is a psychopath!' Imagine what they would have said if they'd known I was trying to carry out Father's work. They would have assumed that he was a psychopath, too. Which... which he was." Her throat started to tighten and she felt her eyes brim with an onslaught of tears. "Father was insane. Mad. Out of his mind. And here I was trying to be like him. I used to think he was great. I used to think he was someone I could look up to! But now... now I think I understand."

She was silent for a time, and the blonde boy sat and listened respectfully, even when the shaking of her shoulders or her sniffles and sobs became even more obvious. After a few minutes, they died down. The whole time, he didn't dare attempt to comfort her. He knew she needed to get this out, and get it out without assistance. She had to do it herself.

"...I never wanted to be this way. I never asked to be. I don't know how it happened. Maybe it all started with Snowball? I don't know, I just don't know..." She looked up at last, staring him in the eye. He was surprised by the intensity in the cobalt pools, the will. "But it's all over. I can't do anything about the past, but I know that I don't want to go any farther down this path. Enough is enough."

They silently gazed at each other, two eyes staring deep into one, and vice versa. This went on for an amount of time neither bothered to note. But at last, Aya managed a weak smile and uncurled herself. She felt lighter, like a new person. Out of nowhere, she suddenly tackled the boy in an embrace that nearly knocked him onto his back. A moment later, his arms were around her, and they held each other in a comfortable, new silence.

Aya's mind was abuzz about the future and what it would hold. But one thing she knew: it was the start of a brand new path.

xxx

Dear sweet Jegus that took forever to write =.=" Sorry, lovelies. Also, sorry if the ending sucked. I reeeeeeaaaally wanted to finish this. But, er, I hoped you liked it in general regardless. Thanks again for your undying love, you beautiful people! Until next time!