Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Does not belong to me.
Cold
He often woke up with dried blood on his hands, a fogged memory, and the sharp, chilling ache of dread knowing that someone somewhere was hurt, or worse, because of what he did. He often worried about the lives of his friends, wondering what their fate was going to be if he was around. He was often scared of the shadows; an irrational but so completely rational fear that something would come out, reach out, and grab him to pull him to the depths of an unknown abyss deep down so he was never to see the bright sky again. He often avoided mirrors, fearing those haunting, harrowing, unnerving blood reddened eyes would gaze right back and pierce the soul and heart he was trying to keep clean. He often would wonder who was who during those rare occasions he'd look in a mirror and if he really should feel guilty if he did not do those things. He often would be released just to see the victim before the kill. He often was kept in the dark, lonesome void of his own soul room, trapped behind the door of his own mind. He often wondered if those tender wounds in his chest would ever heal. He often felt alone because he often was alone.
He was always cold.
Fin.
Over and out,
Stormy