I learned at a very young age that the world is generous to a fault.
It takes most people until their teenage years or even older to come to that realization. I guess I just got lucky and saw it then. Then again, how could I not?
Everyone and everything has a motive. They have their own goals, their own schemes, their own plans, and their own ideas. And if you're not a part of that, you are thought of as an inconvenience. You are swept away to the side, or put on a list. Either way, you'll be helped when it works in favor of the 'helper'.
The world only gives when they receive.
My parents died in the accident. It was coming; you knew it was. I didn't have a lot of other family. My father had a brother, who had his own family of a wife and one child. Their names were Adam and Alison Sirson, and their daughter was Timari, who was nine at the time. Being orphaned, I thought that, the most sensible thing would be to live with my Uncle. But they said they couldn't afford to take care of another child (which is funny, because my Uncle would brag about how much Munny he was making at his job), so I was turned over to a foster home.
There, I was adopted by a couple, which couldn't have kids on their own.
The first thing the lady did was hug me tightly and promise everything would be okay.
And as soon as she had me in that tight embrace, I felt loved.
And for the first time I felt true, conscious happiness with no string attached. It was a wonderful feeling, to be cared about and wanted. The next time I would feel this elated was with him.
That man…made me feel like that.
It was a huge place. I would later come to know it as Traverse Town.
Even though it had no clear, open skies, and no vast beaches, I felt as if the world around me would stretch on forever.
As I walked around, the streets were dark and the alleyways were darker. Nothing like my island. There, the darkness was soothing, normal. Here it was disturbing. There were a bunch of shops and a few hotels, but something about this place was lacking stability. It wasn't a welcome place to be in, and I felt like I wanted to leave. No one was really around, but the people I walked by which were outside gave me these condescending looks…as if they were better than me or something. It turned my eyes to the ground and tried not to look up to avoid them.
I was absolutely lost; alone and afraid, but no one seemed welcoming. No one looked concerned, and no one looked like they wanted to help me. I was afraid to ask.
I found myself wandering deeper into this world, away from people and the street lights and the noise and into a colder, quieter part of the town.
And then I felt this chilling presence behind me, and I turned around to greet it.
And there he was.
A tall man with long, silver hair and soulless aqua eyes. His garb was of which I have never seen before, but what caught my attention almost immediately was the single black-feathered wing protruding from his back.
I would later come to know him as Sephiroth.
From the moment I laid eyes on him, even when I felt him there, behind me, I knew he was bad. Evil, even. The kind of evil you would only see in movies and read about in books. He was a terrible, horrible man, and I could detect all that without having known him for more than a few minutes. There was something radiating from within him that was dark yet alluring, devious yet trust worthy.
"You are lost."
His voice was dark as well. It wasn't a question; more like a statement. Confirmation. I could only nod.
"I will help you."
Despite his words, I knew there were strings attached. I knew better than anyone else that nothing in life was free. That, and I could see the compromise in his eyes. Yet, he was the first person to offer me even the slightest hint of generosity in a very long time. And I truly appreciated that.
He taught me many things. I learned how to fight (which was empowering for me), how to defend, and how to look after myself out here. I learned that I was in a world far different than mine, and that life was going to be much harder. I learned that, if I showed the slightest hint of weakness, I would be destroyed out here. And in return for this knowledge, I was to assist him in a search for another man. I once questioned why, but he didn't answer me. I figured not to ask again.
And although I didn't realize the position I was in, I was still truly grateful that he, in a town of people, in a world of people, offered me a little help.
It was then I got my first taste of being bad. Of being evil.
I knew exactly what I was doing. And I didn't care. I had power, for once. I was strong, for once. I was in control, for once.
However, what goes up…
…must come down.
Reviews are still appreciated…as if anyone cares…