(shuffles feet) well its....half made up on the spot, half not. and its mostly confusing. forgive me??? (gets ready to hide) i've ruined yet another good series....
warning: morbidness, gore, hinted murder and violence, character death, OOC, AU, OC, mentally unstable jing, AND i think thats it.
inspiration: sing for me by tarja turunen and the gremlin's theme song by i-have-no-idea
reason: because i'm sick. and the idea made me squeal.
rating:.....iiiiiiiii wanna say M, but nothing really happens. maybe a high T. a feeeew curse words i think.
pairing: jing/kir, though nothing happens.
summary: i'll forget. who? him. i'll forget him. whose him? some stranger? he might as well be, afterall, he isnt here. he's dead.
disclaimer: noooooooooooooooooot mine. cept for "pop". i grudgingly claim her.
yeaaaaah. if you dare, read on??? if you really cant figure it out (its confusing, but not sooo much, if you read through first.) then just ask i'll explain it. i know its vague. anywho, enjoy!
Its so bright....it hurts, its so bright....wont someone make it stop? I don't get why theres so many lights. They burn...sitting up, I sigh and look around. I don't know how long I've been here, or why or how I got here. I don't know anything....theres too many damn lights. I cant wait for them to go out, one by one... The memory brings a grin to my lips, though I don't know what I'm remembering. I don't know what I'm even thinking.
The door creaks open, loud in the silent room. Several people rush in, a syringe in hand. They're shouting all sorts of things, and their voices are almost as unbearable as these lights. One shrieks as I bite down on their hand as they try to hold me down. Heh, take that! See if that'll learn ya some manners. Another person takes the man's place, and for every person I lash out at, another joins them, and soon I cant fight them all off. Theres too many.
"Hold him down! If he gets up, god knows what'll happen!"
"Damn, what set him off?!"
"I don't know, but you read the report."
"Yeah. Sick little kid..."
What? What were they talking about? Who were they talking about? Me I assume. Set me off? I didn't do anything though! And what did they mean sick? Did I do something? I don't even know. Before I can ask though, the syringe is jammed into my arm, none to gentle may I add. It burns, stings as they hold it with trembling hands. My eyes widen and I twitch as the alien liquid rushes through my veins.
Everything goes black.
I don't know when I first woke up to bright yellow lights and such annoying white walls. I don't know when I first saw those people rush in, with their angry faces and their syringes. It scares me that I'm so confused, so out of it. This isn't normal, I'm usually bright and on top of everything. At least, thats what I think. Theres nothing solid right now...
"Oh, you're awake?"
Blinking, I look over and frown. A fair haired lady sat off to my side, a soft smile and wavy gold falling across her face. I don't know this lady, but she reminds me of someone, someone I feel I should know. I cant think of that person though. A feeling of betrayal goes through me, and if it wasn't so hard to think, I'd wonder why I felt such a profound feeling of hurt.
"Yeah..." I manage, wondering if this lady will turn out to be one of those girls.
"It seems you got quite out of control yesterday. Care to explain why?" she asked, and I had the urge to say piss off.
I chose not to answer her, turning away and rolling my eyes. I didn't have an answer, and I wasn't going to humor this stranger. Apparently the woman didn't like this, and heaved a long and suffering sigh.
"For someone like you, you should be lucky to even get a counselor. I don't see why you never say anything to me. Weren't you the one that asked for one?" she demanded, her cherry colored lips moving quickly, almost to quickly for me to understand. I blink.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask in annoyance, my blood boiling at this accusation.
The woman looked at me blankly, as if I had asked a ridiculous question. Maybe I did...oh, good going, I might as well have sounded like a complete and utter loony just then. Vaguely, I felt that humorous. Why I wasn't sure. The woman sighed loudly.
"Maybe its the meds they have you on thats doing this." she said at last, seeming tired.
"You're a friggen loony, kid. They have you on enough meds to sedate a Woolly Mammoth."
I blinked, watching her pop and chew a piece of gum I hadn't seen until now. I turned this over in my head slowly, wondering how that piece of pink chewy substance had gotten in there. It seemed like I hadn't even noticed it appear, which didn't make sense. The lady scoffed, blowing a bubble.
"God look at you, you're so out of it....its sad. y'know, I used to be a big fan of you. Its why I wanted to work with you, even after what you did. But looking at you now...its just sad. I guess theres a reason for all of this, but man, I cant get my head around it. You used be such a nice kid...then..."
Somewhere or another, I tuned out and then tuned back in, because I hadn't heard a word of what she said just now. I blinked and screwed up my face. It must have been funny, because the strange blond lady blinked and started laughing. I blinked quickly, shocked and a bit uneasy with everything that was going on. The woman popped her gum, chewing at it slowly and looked me over.
"God...is it wrong to still be a fan of a psycho like you?"
I narrowed my eyes and frowned. "I dunno. Probably cant be healthy."
She chuckled. "Comin from YOU, I'm not sure I should listen."
A brief moment of insight hit me, and it occurred to me that I was nuts. A loony. What sort of idiot could i have been, he'd never be proud of me for doing what I did! I felt a sinking feeling, but the insight left when another gum pop was heard, and now I wondered who "he" was. I blinked, and suddenly felt a bit sick.
"You okay kid? Y'look pale." she said nonchalantly.
I glanced at her, then to my shaky pale hands. It occured to me now that I hadn't even seen myself yet. Before I could think anymore, the sound of a chair scraping caught my ears, and I looked up to see the lady stand, stretching.
"Well, I gotta split. Other patients to tend to. I'll be back tomorrow then. I'm glad you were at least coherent this time." she said, smiling a genuine smile that went completely over my head.
"I think he's coming to..."
"Are you sure? I don't know if he'll lash out again."
"If you did, he wouldn't be in therapy."
God, shut UP...my ears ache so bad, like someone is blaring bad music. Its dark for now, but I can see a faint glow beyond my eyelids that tells me it'll hurt when I open my eyes. Instead of doing so, I roll over, burying my face in the thick pillow before I open my eyes.
Clenching the pillow in my hands, I groaned. "Shut UP....it fucking hurts...."
I can tell the people in the room are taken aback, as am I. I don't remember being a big curser, I usually avoided it. He was the one that cursed, not me. Whoever he was. I ignored the urge to wonder about it, instead focusing on my voice. It had sounded so raspy, like it was rusty metal. I must have been asleep for a long while, though I cant be sure.
"Its nice to know your awake at last. Its been three days since you were last awake."
That was that lady....she must be back. I'm glad that I at least recognize her voice. "3 days...?" I asked groggily.
"Yeah. Well, I couldn't exactly call you awake. You were awake, but you didn't even acknowledge anyone."
I contemplated that briefly, before rolling over and squinting at the woman. "Whys it so bright..."
"You're just not used to seeing light on a regular basis. Would you like me to turn down the lights?"
I didn't bother with a comment, just shrugged. The blond woman walked out of my sight, and suddenly the room was dimmer. God that was much better... Opening my eyes a bit more, I blinked slowly. Everything came back in bit and pieces, slowly thankfully. My head ached so bad...
"So, how do you feel?"
"I figured as much." she sighed.
"Then why do you ask..." I snapped, tired and angry with everything.
"I dunno. Hopeful I guess."
It was quiet for a long moment, until I rolled over and looked at the woman. She was scribbling down notes, probably important details she noticed. Due to my bitterness, I decided I didn't care about manners.
"Can I look at myself?"
It must have taken her by surprise, because she didn't respond right away. Blinking, she stood up slowly and went to fetch a mirror. Laying there, I stared at where she had been sitting and began to think. Shy was I here? Obviously, something must be wrong with me, to be in a hospital. At least, I THINK its a hospital. But then, what did I do? Why cant I remember anything? I remember snippets...not even snippets.
When she came back, she held a small hand mirror, and she made me sit up before she would allow me to look at myself. Which was quite a painful process, I should move around more often, it stings to even move. Once I leaned against the wall behind me, she allowed me to hold the mirror backwards in my shaky hands. Turning it around slowly to the reflective side, I felt my breath catch as it slowly showed my face. Pale skin, much too pale to be healthy, and hair that seemed much to dark to be real, falling in greasy strips into....my face?
"Thats me?" I ask, noticing how dull and empty my eyes looked. They seemed darker, less silver like they should be.
The woman nodded, her hair bouncing into her face briefly. I didn't even glance at her, but I knew she nodded. And it made me scared. Hands shaky, I took in my face one more time before lowering the mirror and bowing my head, as if the mirror had taken my face when it lowered. The sound of popping gum echoed, and I glanced up briefly, noting she had that gum again.
"...pop." I mumbled, eying her mouth.
The woman blinked and seemed unnerved. "What?"
Lazily lifting a hand, I pointed at her still lips. "Pop. You pop gum a lot."
She calmed, laughing a bit awkwardly. "That so...does it bother you?"
I shook my head, letting my hand fall tiredly. She brushed some long blond bangs from her face and eyed my hair with a grimace. I didn't need to ask why. My hair must look like shit, it certainly felt like it. The woman, who I decided should be named Pop, stood up and stretched before smiling down at me pleasantly.
"Do you feel up to a bath?" she asked simply.
Blinking, I wrinkled my nose. "With you?"
"No." she said, rolling her eyes.
I eyed her suspiciously, unsure of what to say. She SOUNDED sarcastic, but I prayed she was serious. I don't know why, but I really didn't feel all that comfortable being naked around a grown woman. Not sure why. Possibly, it had to do with this "Him" I kept thinking of. Since when did I feel like I had to honor Him? He was dead, so- Wait. Dead? This "he" person was DEAD? Freezing, I had to wonder at this. "He" was dead, and apparently, I was still madly in love with whoever He was. Was love the right word?? I'm not to sure.
I don't know when I managed to get in a tub and out again, but in what felt like an hours time, I was sitting in bed again. Behind me, Pop sat, running a brush through my hair since I couldn't do it. I don't know why, but my arms suddenly just stopped working once the water hit them. It was annoying and scary, to be honest. But as Pop brushed my hair, I had the time to think. It seemed like my mind didn't entirely mind it for once.
"Hey...Pop" I mumbled.
"Was there....someone else I used to know? A he?"
The brush stopped suddenly, the body behind mine tense. All the signs that I had obviously caught her, though what she had been hiding or doing I didn't know. The brush continued its path, cutting through half dried damp hair and making it look neat again. Her voice was quiet. "Maybe."
I frowned, and was going to ask further, when suddenly my own mind began to answer me. Flashes, way to quick to see properly, went through my head. Greens and blacks and yellows and bursts of red and splashes of white, and suddenly, I didn't feel so good. Something wasn't right. They kept going, running around my head quickly, much too quickly. I couldn't see anything beyond the flashing colors, and the sudden buzz of sound in my ears. A hand shook me by the shoulder roughly, and suddenly, the colors were gone again.
"What happened?" I asked, noting my lack of breath.
Pop looked spooked, and shook her head slowly. "You went really quiet, and looked ready to dart off...like the last two times."
"Last two times?" I repeated, unsure of what she meant.
"You probably don't remember. Both times, you killed two nurses." her voice was soft, quiet and nervous.
My eyes widened, shocked. Killed? Me? Why would I do something like that? I didn't know. I don't think I really want to know, especially if Pop seemed scared to even say it. Must have been bad, I thought. Black rimmed my vision, fuzzy and annoying. I felt weak suddenly, like I couldn't move. No, I'm NOT slipping off yet! I realized almost too late I was going to pass out, but struggled to keep awake. Theres no way I'm sleeping.
Pop gently shook my shoulder. "You okay? Ready to sleep?"
"No. Mnot sleepy." I muttered, though the way my tongue refused to work probably gave me away.
"Uh huh..." she didn't believe me for a second...
Fighting off the urge to puke as I sat up, I huffed lightly. "I'm not. Not yet. A bit longer." I said pleadingly, though I'm not sure who I was trying to convince.
A soft sigh. "You need to sleep. Theres always tomorrow."
"But I...I'll forget." I said weakly, the blackness thickening. Forget? Forget what? My mind wondered dimly.
Him. I'll forget Him.
Whose Him? Some stranger? He might as well be, after all, He isn't here. He's dead.
I know, But I cant, I cant forget yet. Not yet...
Its okay to forget...you don't want to remember, not Him. Not what He did.
I do!...I...I want to....remember. I want to know HIM again.
No you don't. Just forget.
I cant...Not yet...
Inky darkness. Forget. Forget who? I wonder...
"So, how did you sleep?"
I shrugged and lift my hand to my face, fascinated by my newfound strength. Wiggling my fingers, eyes dancing, I only half paid Pop any attention. She didn't mind, as this was something that often happened. I don't know how long its been, but I don't really care. My minds too mixed up to bother with minutes or hours or days or years. But I'm certain more than a minute has passed, more than a day.
Delicately popping a pink stick into her mouth, Pop chews at it with great patience and care. Sometimes, I wonder why she chews so much gum. She pops it a lot to, when I get on her nerves. I know I do, though she's careful not to show it. I don't know why, but the staff here really goes to great lengths to avoid me. Pop is the only one who will talk to me.
"You seem cheery today." she pointed out, brushing back a strand of blond hair.
I nodded. "Mhm. I didn't forget."
"Him. Well, what I knew of him."
She nodded. "You've been really interested in this person lately. A few weeks ago, you asked about him, and suddenly, its all you talk about." she murmured, humming a little. She was taking notes or something, on my obsession over this person. I don't mind. I think she knows who he is, but wont tell me. Well, I'd rather remember on my own. Lately, my mind isn't so cluttered and confusing, and its much easier to think now. I wonder why...? Nurses come in more often, taking shots, checking that strange machine next to my bed, and even chatting with me. I think Pop must have done something, otherwise they'd ignore me.
"I love him. I want to remember him." I said idly, calmly as I inspect my fingers.
Its quiet for a moment, before Pop speaks. "Love him...?"
"Yeah. I love him."
"Thats new." she murmurs. "Have you remembered anything new about him?"
I paused and check my foggy memory. I cant remember anything past when I met Pop, so I don't really know how I know this stuff. But recently, I've been having dreams. And in the dreams, I hear a voice, scratchy but full of humor and maybe a hint of kindness. I see bright cheery colors, and some people I don't know. I cant really see who it is who owns that voice, all I ever get a glimpse of, is black. Silky black. Recently, I heard a name.
"I heard a name. I don't know whose it is. But in my dream, I heard the name Jing." I stumbled over the name, frowning.
Pop tilts her head. "How do you know its a name?"
Biting my lip, I think back to the dream. "Because someone called me it. And I replied. So I think its my name."
The sound of a pen scribbling over paper echoed in the silence that seemed to stretch forever after my declaration. Was I wrong? No, I don't think I am. I think she's just writing this down because I figured my own name out. But what a strange name. I tried to say it again out loud, and it felt like the jay caught my tongue. Pop raised an eyebrow, and I ceased my attempts to say the name again.
"Am I wrong?" I ask at last. I cant take the silence. I hear it too much.
Looking up from her notes, Pop's eyes met mine and for a moment I expected a flat out no. Slowly, the sides of her mouth turned upwards, and I felt relief wash over me. "You were right. Congratulations on not having to ask for your name."
When she said it, how she phrased it, it grated against my nerves. But seeing the kind smile, I knew she really meant it. It took a moment, but hesitantly, I smiled back. There was something so nice in remembering my own name without any help, and being honestly and kindly praised for it. I sat back in my bed, getting a bit sore from sitting hunched over.
"So I know my name. But whats his?" I wonder aloud, frowning at the wrinkled blankets.
The blond woman next to me is silent, refusing to voice what I know she knows. And if it had been anyone else, I'd be infuriated that she would dare to hide something like this from me. But she was Pop. My mom practically. And she knew what was best, didn't she? Because I was alive, warm, clean, fed, and I could function better. It never crossed my mind she could be the reason I hadn't been able to do at least this before.
Jumbled colors, voices, accusing voices and shrieks filled my ears. Fire danced merrily, while people screamed and ran about. I didn't mind, in fact, I was overjoyed to see them scrambling like insects. They deserved every last bit of this. Raising my arm, suddenly there was an explosion, chunks of concrete shattering and flying about. Screams filled the air like clouds, shrill and so full of life I almost felt sick. How dare they still be alive? Silence them. Do it NOW before they get away!
And so I did.
The screams that filled the air, the sound of their pleas cut short, felt thick like cream. It swirled about, and filled my head until it felt so full it would leak or explode. But even with that thick feeling, my thoughts and logic were clear and sharp. Slice there. Curve that way. Dodge this way. Quickly, strike at their middle. It didn't matter that these were such sickly sticky thoughts, dripping like cherry sauce. What mattered, was that they paid for what they did.
"-I don't like this...its really sick. Why're we doing this again? We should stop. Isn't half a city good enough?"
The feeling of feathers ruffling against my arm sent a shiver up my spine. Ignoring it, I glanced around, checking the burning green area for survivors. Distant crying, sweet to my ears.
"Come on, theres kids here, and they don't even remember! Y'heard that old man, they didn't even KNOW! Cant we just stop now, Jing? Its really starting to make me sick, come on! I'll leave if you don't quit it soon! I will!"
Shaky and weak, just like his voice. Glancing down at him, I raise an eyebrow. "No." I say simply.
Sitting up quickly, eyes wide and frantic, I throw back the covers. I stare in horror at the wall across from me, white and full of switches. Its too warm under the blanket, but I'm too cold. What was that dream? He said my name...the voice, the person...what the HELL was I doing?! Wrapping my arms around myself, I bite my quivering lower lip. So cold, so calm and at ease...how could I....I do those things? I bend forward more, bringing my knees to my shaking torso.
"What....what did I do?" I whisper.
Pop seems a bit uneasy as I explain in a quiet and shaky voice what I dreamt. She writes things down, takes notes and pauses when I describe how sick his voice sounded as he begged me to stop. I stumbled over the murders, hating how MY name, MY hands were involved with the term murder. I felt sick. The pen finally stopped moving as my voice stopped echoing in the cold room. I couldn't look at her right now, even though I knew it was by my request that I had a counselor. This was just too wrong. I felt like I had lost something with that dream. Maybe, I lost my excuses?
"I really did that...didn't I." I murmur, unable to keep quiet.
Pop is silent.
I glance at her, noting the way her eyes darkened. Uncurling from my protective ball a little, I bite my lip. "Pop...?"
Heaving a heavy sigh, the blond looked up with weary eyes. "You did."
Two words. Thats all it took to shatter the small world I had. I didn't remember my past, I didn't remember a face. Aside from Pop and this room and these dreams, there was no other world to me. But somehow, my dreams had brought along another world. Like an uninvited guest being brought along by a good friend to a party, this new world was not welcomed. In fact, I wish I hadn't even had the dream. I didn't want more for this world, if I ever had, I certainly don't want more now. But its here. Its here, and its on paper, and it wont go away ever again. Will it? No. It wont.
"Why...? Why'd I..." I try to say, though I really cant force myself to talk anymore. It feels sick.
Glancing from the paper to me, the blond woman didn't smile. She didn't try to console me. "If either of us knew, you wouldn't be here talking to me." she said, and to my ears, it sounded icy like a rejection.
I just stared at her for a long moment, not sure what to say or do. So that was it. Thats why I'm here. Because I...I murdered hundreds of innocents, and somehow, was taken pity on. Was that it? That had to be it. And thus, Pop, my counselor, must not really care. She's paid to "care". She doesn't care. I'm truly alone. Something breaks inside, but I keep it all in. Everything'll break and shatter and crunch if I let it out.
It wasn't fuzzy in my head anymore. I don't know what did it, but I can think again. But oh, it does burn to think. Because now, I can understand and reason coherently again, perfectly almost. I cant remember my past still, but its behind a thin wall that groans under the weight. After that dream, I don't want to remember. I don't want to know anything about me. All I want, is to lay here in bed and just....I don't know. I want to be left alone, but I want to be hugged. Pop seems more distant, its like my mom isn't tending to me anymore. Am I growing up or something?
I know she isn't my mom. I know I'm already old enough to tend to my own needs. But this sudden withdrawal isn't entirely accepted. I still need a crutch, though I didn't know it till now. I'm alone again. Alone, except for the memory of that person that I still feel so attached to. I wasn't joking when I said I loved him. I think his memory is about the only company I have anymore.
Its sad, when a dead person needs to be your safety blanket.
"You haven't spoken to me once, in a week. Whats wrong?"
I don't look at Pop, just fiddle absently with a blanket. it feels too cold to be near her now. She heaves a sigh, and she wants to demand I say something, but she cant. I take a sick pleasure in knowing she cant truly make me do anything. The pillow that I'm leaning against is soft and puffy, and after walking around all day (I'm aloud out of my room now and then) all I want is to lay back.
Pop bites her cherry lip, narrowing her eyes a little. She has a trump card, I'm fairly sure of that. She knows how to make me talk, just like any other mom would. Part of me hopes she'll use it. Part of me hopes she wont. I briefly notice she's chewing extra hard at her gum today. She must be angry.
"I cant believe you're so selfish." she hisses.
Twitching, I feel like glaring at her. Me? Selfish? Ha! Selfish....not by a long shot! Of course not. If I could, I'd cuddle the thought of him, because I'm certain he'd say I wasn't selfish either. Pop looked ready to scream.
"You made so much progress. This is the least amount of drugs we've ever had you on before. And you just sit there. We had a breakthrough! You're getting better, cant you see? If you just friggen TALK, if you open up, maybe you'll-"
"I don't WANT to talk!!!"
The room goes silent. Pop is taken aback, eyes wide. I've never really yelled at her before. But her pain or her desperation to fix me doesn't matter. Not to me. Not anymore. She isn't doing this for ME, she's not here because she WANTS to be. I have no sympathy for her, I wont help her anymore. Suddenly though, it does make sense. I can think properly again, because she's been taking me off the drugs I've been forced to take. No hazy memory, no sedatives, no more confusion. She had been the one to put me on them.
I felt like a puppet.
Like I had double the strings I should have. They drugged me, they altered my mind somehow. Then they could make me think things I don't really think, couldn't they? These feelings and memories...they could be fake. I don't know how my mind started spiraling like its doing. One thought bled into another, and suddenly, I felt paranoid, and betrayed and scared. The woman in front of me started to look less like a mother or a friend, and more like a sick agent sent in to ruin me. To make me something else.
Pop swallowed and tried not to seem as scared as she must feel. "J-Jing?" she called, somehow knowing the silence wasn't right.
"Whose that...?" I murmured.
"I don't know anyone named Jing. Its not me. I don't know that person."
Pop looked ready to dart, knees quivering a little. "Y-You're talking nonsense. YOU'RE Jing."
Looking up, eyes blank. I felt the urge to either smile or laugh. "No, I'm not."
The old man cast the duo a weary look, taking note of their appearances. Raggedy and lacking the youth most children still had. He eyes the bird that sits on the young man's shoulder, midnight black like a black cat, making the old man uneasy. What an omen, he thought, noticing how the teen's hand was twitching, and the bird was shifting, as if heeding some unspoken call.
"Now lad, take it easy..."
He did not however. The fury that swelled within his silver eyes made them man regret ever mentioning it. This wasn't good. "Lad-"
"Its true then. They did it." then, slowly, he uncurled his fist and attempted to look composed. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath, but the man could tell he was far from calm. Opening his eyes, he forced himself to ask quietly, as if to keep his rage silent. His words dripped with a threat that made the old man's blood run cold.
"Where is this city located?"
He adjusted his glasses and gave the boy an appraising look. If he told this boy, undoubtedly, horrible things would happen. His conscience was already heavy just knowing that he was partially responsible for the death of this boy's mother. Did he truly have the right to sentence others to the same fate as she? Would it be valid of an excuse, to wipe his own soul free of its crimes? No. No it wouldn't. But he could tell the boy was livid, and the wrong response would end in his death, AND he'd eventually find out where to go. He hadn't much choice.
"Let me show you the map..." he said sullenly, sighing and walking to the table.
The boy's anger didn't dissipate, but the level of hostility lowered as he walked over.
"The city is right about...."
She tried to run, even knocked over her chair in the process. I don't think she expected it, me being able to move so quickly. Because after all, not a year ago, I couldn't move on my own, and not three months ago, I was winded just walking. I guess it must have been what the other nurses felt like, seeing the nearly comatose me dart forward and silence them.
"What're you doing?!"
"S-Stoppit!!!" a ragged cry of agony, possibly the last understandable thing she'd utter.
A sickening shriek. I smiled. She was still alive, that I knew, but the red syrupy substance that leaked from her was nice. My brain briefly told me it was blood. I took a moment to dab a finger in the growing puddle, lifting it to my face. The red dripped down, making rivers and streams. It seemed much to vibrant to belong to something that would die soon. For some reason, I got the urge to taste this weird blood stuff. I flicked my tongue over what wasn't halfway down my arm already and grimaced.
"Its not very sweet...reminded me of that cherry sauce stuff, but its not sweet." I muttered in disappointment.
"W-Why..." she croaked, weak and broken. Her eyes were filled with tears, betrayal. She didn't understand why I had snapped.
Turning cold gray eyes on her, I dropped my red soaked hand to the floor. She wouldn't run, her legs were all but snapped off. "Because." I answer, though, really, its not an answer. "You know why."
"W-Wha? Jing, I don't-"
She shrieked, and a sense of accomplishment filled me where my anger once was. "Thats not my name."
I froze at that, narrowing my eyes. "What?"
Pop was barely moving, her split lips trying to form the name again to stop me. I knew that name. Somehow, I knew it. "T-Thats his name..." she stuttered out, eyes frantic. Probably thinking that maybe I'd stop. Maybe she might live, unlike the others. But the fact that she knew his name in the first place just aggravated me more. She knew his name, and didn't tell me. She must know more. "What else do you know?" I demand.
Pop flinches away, eyes wide and lips slowly moving. "I...I..."
"I...I cant tell you!" she cries, eyes welling. Her trump card is gone, and she has no other defense.
Narrowing my eyes, I decide to give her one last chance. "Tell me."
She says nothing, the tears flowing out, but they didn't sway me. They aren't for me. Their for her own life, which is flashing before her eyes, panic ranging from death to it effects shooting through her thin body. What would happen to her next paycheck? What about her real family, not the surrogate son she had been forced to care for, what if they couldn't feed themselves with her death?
I didn't care. If anything, it made me bitter. It must be nice to have a family. I had nothing, not even my own memories. Her ruby lips trembled, the long forgotten gum stuck to her tooth. Looks like it wont pop anymore. Those lips trembled, tracing the words for "help" but unable to force them out. My eyes narrowed, and with my free hand, I felt around for the clip board she had dropped.
When I got it, I turned it on its side, and gave Pop one fake smile, her eyes widening as I let both hands grip the board and hold it just above her throat. Realizing what was going to happen, Pop shrieked, "PLEASE-!"
She was cut off as I brought the clip board down as hard as I could.
"They were the ones, the ones who did this all. They should die, you know that!" he cried.
He was silent, looking anywheres but his face. "I didn't know her..."
The teen froze, eyes wide. He didn't just say that. Right? "What?" he murmured.
Turning tired murky gold eyes on him, the other wished he wasn't going to say this. "I didn't know her. I don't understand what you're feeling, all I know, is that this...this is wrong."
If the bird wasn't his most trusted and dearest friend, the teenager would have broken him to pieces right then. His disbelieving glare said it all. Carefully scooting along the edge of the remains of a building, he was silent. Before, he wouldn't be afraid of the teenager, to be afraid of him? It'd be like being afraid of a cookie. Sometimes, he did creep him out. Honestly, the boy WAS a bit of a nut at times, but hey, thats what children were like, right? Weird. He'd hardly describe the teen as a child, but when he really thought...
"They killed her. Right there. In front of me no less. She didn't have a chance, and I...." he broke off, voice catching. Biting his lip hard, he looked up, eyes welling with unshed tears. "I...I cant just let them get away...I cant. Not after that. You understand that, don't you? Don't you!!" he cried, closing his eyes tightly.
"..." he gulped, not wanting to say this. But he felt so ill, watching his best friend just melting down in front of him. "Its wrong. Its wrong, and sick, and you're no better than they were, just offing all of these people."
Once clear silver eyes snapped open, wide and shocked. Slowly looking up, he just looked at the other. Bloody feathers, twitching body, a look of disgust in his eyes. Something broke in him. Something snapped, shattered and then melted. Because out of all the remaining people he knew, only this person could truly break him. What he said went. And he said stop, he said he was a murderer. But she had bled. She had screamed. And he had been a helpless child, just watching her die.
Which one would he trust? He had come so far already....his title alone would get him a life behind bars for sure. But the death of half a city? He wasn't so sure he wanted to continue or stop. Revenge came first, but how many would he kill before he could let her memory rest? Eyes welling up, he bit his lip.
"...why? Why're you saying this?" he whispered, voice almost drowned out by the crackling fire.
He never got the chance to answer. Much to quickly for the unstable boy to respond, the ground shattered like glass, and everything went black.
The man paused, looking at the boy who sat across the desk from him. Shining metal handcuffs adorned his wrists, though from the broken gray eyes, the man highly doubted the boy needed them. He sat there, sulking into the chair in fresh clothing he had been forced into, as his own were covered in gore. He looked so small, just sitting there, twirling what looked to be a feather with two fingers. It was a blur of inky ebony, but even from here, the dots of crimson that speckled it were clear to him.
"So, what was your name again boy?" the man asked, as no one had ever gotten his information down on paper. The one place that would, had been destroyed, and his birth certificate seemed to be lost in space.
When the boy spoke, it was almost a whisper. "Jing."
The man frowned at the name. What a strange name, though the person it belonged to was no less strange. "I see. Well then, I suppose a welcome isn't something you'd appreciate, so I'll simply send you on your way. Just please fill these out the best you can." he said, setting down a few papers in front of the quiet boy.
He glanced at the forms, and slowly, as if it pained him, set the feather down and began to fill the forms out. As Jing began to write, the man behind the desk couldn't tear his eyes from the bloody feather or the bruises that dotted the boy's skin wherever skin showed. He paid the man no attention, just continued to scribble away his life. From behind long bangs, Jing paused. Frowning softly, he glanced up at the man, who jumped when the boy stopped writing.
"Whats this about a counselor?" he asked.
"Ah, thats just apart of the deal. This IS a mental asylum, so naturally you'll have to talk to someone eventually." the man explained.
The gray eyes just watched him, darkening as he was told his insanity was an issue, how he was wrong. Something snapped within him again. And if it weren't for these cuffs, he might actually kill the man. Lucky for the man, he had also explained that it was optional to have a counselor. The little box was blank, echoing on the blank page, save for semi-neat handwriting that would sign his life away to white walls. But it was the asylum, or the chair, and he didn't want to die. Or did he. He wasn't so sure right now.
The box was checked with a short left diagonal line, then a long and blotched right line.
Quiet and dark, the room was empty. A bed sat against one wall, but that was about it. Scanning the room, Jing felt this was an awful fate. To be stuck in this little room by himself, for god knows how long? Where was something sharp when he needed it... Shaking his head, he sighed. It was not the time to be contemplating a permanent exit from this place. After all, he didn't really WANT to die...right?
"Its questionable..." he mumbled aloud.
Looking around one last time, the teen resigned himself to this stay and made his way to the bed. Later that night found him just laying there, twirling the black feather with two fingers. It blurred, and made a soft zipping noise as it was spun, back and forth. It was hypnotizing, which is why Jing was still twirling it. It kept him from thinking too much on things in the past. Like a few days ago. After all, he wasn't insane, not yet. If he kept thinking back however... Some may think him insane, but he knew better. Even now, when he had convinced a judge he was insane, even after murdering hundreds, Jing was still confident that was perfectly healthy.
After all, he had known what he was doing. No voice or sudden mood swing or impulse had told him to kill those people. It was all his own decision. And even if others believed that the hero of their bedtime stories was a loony, he knew the truth. And really, what proof did they have, aside from his words and actions, that he truly WAS a nut case?
None. That he was sure of.
The first nurse wasn't an accident. Simply, she was probing too deep, in a place Jing didn't want to be probed, and had said the worst thing she could. It wasn't smart to taunt the mentally unstable, he thought dully. What an idiot. They found her with her belt tied around her neck, hanging from a shower. They couldn't figure out how it had happened, but with a few tests, they were certain they could pin it on Jing. He took the blame, explaining calmly why she had deserved a slow and painful death. After that, they kept a very close eye on him.
The second nurse had it coming, however...Jing had not meant to kill her. She was a sweet old lady, but she had pissed him off. Lately, even the slightest "taunt" (in his obscure opinion) could set him off. But he hadn't meant it. How was he supposed to know that it'd kill her? It was about then that his eyes were no longer silver, but gray. It was also after her, that he started believing his own lies.
They WERE lies, right? Of course, he told himself. Because Jing was most certainly NOT insane in any way. But...the more he thought about it...maybe it was too much thinking that was the cause? Maybe he didn't think enough? Kir's death had haunted him every second of his life in this asylum. It was all he thought of, all he cared about. If he had moved faster, if he hadn't stopped and made them an open target, if Kir had left like he threatened to, it would be okay. He'd be alive, and Jing wouldn't be here. Or would he? Was he destined to end up in this white room? Or had it all be an accident, had someone slipped up in their duties and allowed this to occur?
He didn't know. All he knew, knew for sure, was that Kir was dead, and he was alone. Alone, cold, tired, and so out of it, it wasn't even funny. If he had read the fine print, Jing was sure he had signed his free will away as well. Every day, pills and shots were administered, and every day things became cloudier and foggier and so many other words he didn't know. Just thinking now seemed like swimming through thick pudding, and every attempt to get further was slow and agonizing. At some point, Jing decided he didn't want to think. And he wouldn't.
Who'd have thought, his own memory loss was his own doing? He never would.
The body just lay there, crushed and dead for sure. And as the boy looked at it, horror began to slowly grow within him. Denial came first. Nudging the small body, he called the other's name softly. Nudging it again, and receiving no response again, the horror finally reached its height. Sticky blood oozed, and his fingers were covered in it, dripping the thick dark liquid. It dripped down his fingers like slow rivers, pooling in his palm or continuing its trek down his arm. He began to tremble, and the world began to swirl around him, going to fast while his sight went too slow.
...............WELL (claps hands) wasnt that nice??? i'm sure it just dripped joy and why life is so happy~~....no? ah well. yeah, part AU, part not. moooostly i'm gonna bet its AU. and very OOC? psh. hoped you liked it!! i worked hard on this~~! (and now, i hear the gremlin's theme song.)