She saw them there, on the ground.
They lay there, beneath the same, bloodthirsty skies, along with a familiar violence she'd grown familiar with.
Two people, a boy and a girl, both of whom were facing toward her, with glassy eyes. Deformed, and torn apart bit by bit, they gazed at her helplessly, black entwining with red, with soundless whimpers escaping from their lips. They were beaten, battered, with body parts skewered toward the side, and yet she could only watch them, as they dealt with the neglect, the abandonment. Though she could still see them struggling, desperately clinging to their wretched, decadent immortalities, they kept on calling out to her, their pitiful voices screaming from the depths of her mind.
She stared at them, the sorrow eroding away whatever numbness she carved for herself. Morals she'd long forgotten resurfaced into her brain, clouding her vision with cold, icy tears, something not even she would be able to recognize. Seams of memories diffused throughout her mind, echoing their resentments, their contempts, towards her, without the slightest notion of mercy. They enticed her body, lulling it with a deep, depressive lullaby, the tinkering, frightful sounds akin to a distant melody she knew she's heard before.
Why? she heard from behind.
Rapidly, she turned.
No one.
She regarded the empty space evenly, her delusions spilling out in front of her. A happy family, which consisted of a mother, and a father, and a young girl, all of whom were living together, in a castle far far away. There was a field of roses just waiting for her, beckoning her to come and care for them, as she had for her own, fairytale-like dreams. Coming from the distance, was a school, where that same girl went, smiling, holding fast to the friendships she's made, the joy she's carried for so very long. There was yet another school, a school where that girl attends now, where she was getting carried away with dreams of the future she's made for herself, the tiniest details now being sorted out by her mind. And within those dreams, she saw friends, friends the girl's made, friends the girl would risk everything for, if only for the chance to see them mourn over her, with spilled, innocent attention she's always wanted to have. Powers? What powers? What mark?
At an instant, the image disappeared. She could hear time echoing through her ears, the pendulum tearing down any vain lies she's comforted herself with. Judgements, accusations, all befell upon her, at that very moment, clawing at her with screams and moans. Whatever adorations and praises she'd received from before, whatever nightmares she'd engulfed herself in, had fallen from her sight, now destroyed by the scarlet from above. Her eyes widened at the seams, as she turned back to the bodies of the fallen, of her beloved friends, of anyone who had ever meant anything to her.
Both wore black roses upon their throats, roses that held fast to sharp, gleaming thorns. Strands of blond and brown hair entwined together, and though their faces were ruined, battered beyond recognition, she could feel a sickening recognition from deep within the pits of her stomach. She could hear her own heart tearing itself to pieces, her chest pounding in anxious impatience, as she swept down to their sides, begging that they awake, that they open their eyes, that they answer her with whatever immaturity they've carved into her. She gripped their limbs desperately, not caring if she muddled those shallow, soiled graves. Her voice pierced the dismal air, as she tried waking them up from their dreamless sleep, unbeknownst the darkness she catered to, a darkness that had already corrupted them completely.
How could you?
She's heard those voices before.
Voices from grace. Children's voices.
She found them standing there, with gleeful smiles plastered upon their faces. Dark, tainted giggles erupted from their silhouettes, the shallow happiness within their eyes little more than an insult to their already shattered prides. All were clothed in simple, white rags, with tight, heavy chains wound around their ankles. Scars adorned their skins, and through those rags, she could see their ribs, their grotesquely emaciated frames. Overbearing, yellow fangs protruded from their lips, with their gums bleeding out what little blood they had left. They all stared up at her, with their glassy, blank expressions, the morbidity of their own envious states weighing her down.
How could you?!
And all the while, as she stared at them, remnants from a subtle memory slowly began seeping into her system. Then, one by one, she began to see their horrific ends, their innocence evaporating from the tips of her fingers.
Strangled.
Maimed.
Skewered.
Beheaded.
Impaled.
Her hands were trembling, recalling a horrific time that both her mind and heart shut out. She could see crimson, embedded upon her hands, with stains upon stains of vile filth. She could see herself sitting there, amongst the requiem of children, the silence laced beneath the same graves. She could see them swarming after her, their grief-stricken eyes rejoicing in delight, as they pondered on her eventual demise, on the justice they hoped to attain, if only for a brief moment. She could see them tying her down, their own chains bearing the burden of whatever sins she's committed in the past. She could see them laughing at her own pain, at the pain she caused them, the pain she was only beginning to understand. She could see them passing onto her their accusations, her own guilt dragging her towards the stand, as the children wrapped their velvet, suffocating claws around her throat, sentencing her to dwell forever within her own darkened heart. No, death was much too merciful, especially for someone so cruel and callous.
HOW COULD YOU?!
She tried reaching out to the two bodies who were lying there, just beside her. She was trying to call out for them, all the while apologizing over and over again. Trying to do everything she could to make the corpses see why she did what she did, why she even bothered dragging them into her mess. Trying to tell them how sorry she was, how much she wanted to take back everything that's happened over the years, how much she wanted to turn back time, to where she could still die, that fateful night. Trying to show them how much she's tried ending her existence, from the moment she heard those chants.
Trying to stop her breath, from coming out of her starved body.
Trying to torture herself, in the same way she had with so many other of her victims.
Within that second, she heard the cracks.
Within that minute, she saw men, surrounding her, gun barrels directed toward her.
Only her.
She closed her eyes, her own, pitiful tears cascading down her cheeks. That's right; they'll end it. Those angels, dressed so very officially. They were going to end it, and she wasn't going to have to suffer for much longer. She can join them, her beloved persons. She could be with them forever and ever and ever, and she wouldn't have to worry about a single thing. They'll be right beside her, and she'll be free, from her guilt, from her own shame, from every little secret she's kept.
Just then, a man appeared, right in front of her.
His back was turned, as he faced her executioners. Raven hair, with golden highlights she couldn't remember seeing before. A blue jacket, with a dark rose strapped to his throat. And reflective, wondering eyes, eyes that took on the form of a deep obsidian, a color that she'd found herself lost in before. She saw him, there, in the pit of her agony, as she reached out to the executioners. Who was he? she wanted to ask. Why was he here? What was he doing?
Then, she saw the same, bloodstained red erupted from her precious angels.
The next thing she knew, she was screaming. Despair drove its unwelcome lusts across her brain, as she reached out to them, doing whatever she could to revive them, if only for the sake of their vain justices. She tried crawling to them, bushing aside the children's taunts, ignoring the two bodies lying on the ground, waiting for her to join them in the afterlife. Dry, cracked lips voiced her hallowed screeches, the pain entwined within her vocal chords.
And yet, something stopped her.
But she didn't know what.
Aki, was the first thing she heard.
Why?
At an instant, she dragged her hands to her ears, her wide eyes fixed to the ground. Shaking, trembling, all the while endeavoring to pretend that her angels were still there, fixated on her, and her alone. But despite that, the children's voices continued berating her, assaulting her with their own, demonic chants, repeating the many ways they've died. They kept on with their little games, as they watched her unraveling mind, the insanity crossing over between her delusions and dreams.
Aki, she heard again.
"JUST SHUT UP!"
But the children continued.
How could you?
How could you?!
HOW COULD YOU?!
"Just…just shut up," she murmured brokenly, shutting her eyes as she did. A silent plea, a broken prayer, followed by more and more of those children.
Where were they, her angels?
What are they doing?
And suddenly, the voices stopped.
A cool presence washed over her. Something cold pressed against both her ears, the sounds quickly fading from her. Though she could still feel their eyes, the presence covered her from their sight, hiding her from the chaotic scene. It touched her forehead, though she didn't know what; she was too afraid to open her eyes.
"Akiza," she heard someone say, a man.
His breath trickled down her collarbone, with a soothing, nonjudgemental tone embedded within his words. So soothing, in fact, at that moment, she'd stopped shaking.
"I don't want to see it," she said, after the longest time.
Hands, she now believed, pressed harder against her skull. "See what?" he asked.
"Them," she choked. "I…don't want to see those children."
An eerie silence draped over the man. Finally, he pressed her against him, his hands still over her ears. "You don't want to see them?" he asked.
"No."
"Then keep your eyes closed."
Author's Note:
-Ophelia was a character from Shakespeare's Hamlet. As Yusei so callously says, Ophelia is the epitome of insanity. When she believed Hamlet to be dead, her mind broke. She fell into a lake I believe, and because she was so in love with Hamlet, refused to save herself.