There's always a good chance you could die right in the middle of your life story ~ Chuck Palahnuik
The spirit was taking over again. There was no warning, no sign anymore, the spirit was to use to throwing Ryou to the wayside.
(He's like a mechanic, switching out the parts. I'm broken and need replacing.)
Ryou didn't even bother to fight it anymore. He welcomed the sensation. To him it felt less and less painful and more like sleeping. Like dying.
(I am dying.)
Dying, death, dead had there been a time when each of those words meant something unique? A time when he had use those words separately for different things? He couldn't bring himself to remember. Dying, death, dead. He did remember those words though, just in a different way. There was a time when those words scared Amane, which Ryou could never understand. To him they were always meaningful and when she died they became powerful. But now as the walls of his soul began to materialize and cage him in he realized something profound. Those words meant nothing to him now. Less than nothing. It seemed to him that the spirit of the ring drained everything of its meaning. It did not hurt anymore to think about Amane dying, to think about her dead. In fact it seemed the most natural thing in the world to remember her as she was in her casket. Really, what was more natural then death?
(I'm ready now for you death, I'm ready for you to take me too.)
In an odd way, Ryou should be thanking the spirit for taking the meaning away from his life. Now instead of remembering Amane as an untouchable ray of light and goodness he remembered her for what she was; a picky little girl with a short temper but a good heart. Ryou now could remember the little fits she'd throw or how her nose was a bit too big for her small face. Each day Amane became realer and realer to him, and each day Yuugi became more like a faded away photography. Surely there had never been at time when they had called each other friends.
(It's not real. It never was real.)
He should stop dwelling and dreams of things that were never real, that never could have been real. Yuugi was just a figment of his imagination. But he could have sworn he remembered his laugh though, how warm and welcoming and forgiving it was. Ryou could remember (when he tried harder enough) when the ring had put these awful thoughts in his mind. Maybe everything was just the ring or the spirit. The ring or the spirit and the spirit and the ring. Ringspiritringspiritringspirit. And it just didn't matter anymore which was which because they were interchangeable just like life and death and hatred and love and nothing was separate and nothing was real.
(No that's not true, Amane was real. Is real. )
Amane used to use the words life and story interchangeably. At first Ryou had found this idea to be fascinating, to be the main character in the story but as he grew older (and deader) he had begun to found this to be false. Yes he did have a life, no matter how hard the spirit tried to take it from him, but he had no story. There's was Yuugi story, in which he could have had a supporting role but now he was just an antagonist. An obstacle for Yuugi to overcome – and he would overcome it too. Ryou had to believe Yuugi would stop the spirit, because he had to believe something, anything. Because if he didn't hold on to this hope (tight, so it would never get away) he would be forced to be in the spirit's story. In which he played the role of the host, a sweet innocent body to carry out unspeakable horrors. A prop, something to dispose of when ready. Nothing. Less than nothing.
(I just want to die already, why won't I die?)
Perhaps he'd had a story once, centuries ago. Where Amane smiled sweetly at him, his father loved him and he was something more than an innocent face. A time when he was real. But something had gone wrong. Maybe his author's typewriter had malfunctioned or maybe the Fate's had cut his string too soon and had hastily tried to sew everything back up. Whatever the case, something had gone horribly wrong. Now his father hated him, and Amane, cold pale Amane could never smile again.
(Who am I kidding? I am dead. Nothing. Less than nothing.)
If she could smile at him again, would she? How could she look at him now in the corner of this dusty room, in the corner of his dusty soul, curled up tight in a ball and smile? How would she even be able to stomach him after what he let happened to her? Big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters. Big brothers are supposed to put themselves in front of harm's way, instead of rolling away and watching the fire start to consuming everything and watching the blood ooze out of their little sisters. Big brothers are supposed to always, always succeed when it came to caring for the little sisters – and he. He. He failed. Just like how he fails to help Yuugi. Failure, failure. Forever.
(This is what I deserve. I need to be hated.)
Punishment. This was his punishment. Everything was his fault. He let himself put on the ring, he let himself lose control. It was he that agreed to befriend Yuugi and he that agreed to betray him. And it was Ryou that insisted that Amane have the front seat, right next to his mother, when they drove to grocery store and it was he that had lived and let his sister die in his place. Yes. He had always been the villain of this story all along. And all the memories were he had been good and kind and loved were lies. There was only him and the spirit and those words were interchangeable.
(Hate me Yuugi, because I am him.)
A/N I know I haven't updated in forever, and any one who reads this I am soooo thankful. I've been just really busy and out of inspiration. So please review because I am really, really rusty at this and need some positive feedback!
