First off: I don't own pokemon…I mean obviously.

Next, this fic has a large amount of violence and contains death and blood. Just warning you.


Was it me?

It couldn't have been your fault…could it?

It all happened so long ago, yet your dreams are too vivid. Right down to every blade of grass, every breeze of the wind. The scream and sharp cut off of air. Everything was so clear.

You sit, kneeling in the dew clad grass. Kricketots playing soft, short, violin sounds, and Hoothoots keeping the night's time. Above you, glimmering stars, new worlds, never imagined by the human race. Every small gust of cool wind blows your jagged purple hair from you face. Calming, soothing almost. But here, and now…nothing would ever be able to cure your ache.

"What have I done?" You whisper to yourself. Looking down at your mystical hands, now coated in sheen. Wet, cold, shaking, and red. Oh so red. It glistened as the moonlight caught it in it's grasp. Your breath staggers and your stomach can do nothing but churn as you stare at your work.

Before you, on the ground lay a boy. A boy no more than eight years of age. His cold blue eyes sat forever open, never to close on their own again. Staring off into the dark sky. His layered blonde hair fell to the side, splattered with patches of blood. His clothes stained with scarlet on the stomach, bleeding through the fabric and over top the wound.

You couldn't have done this. Someone else did…someone else.

Yet your memories tell you otherwise. You sat with your blade in hand, shaking uncontrollably. It's sheath still hooked to your belt. You slide the thin metal through the wet grass, wiping off all the blood that had settled up to the hilt.

You can not take your eyes off the boy, or should you say 'eye'. The fabric over his stomach was torn open, and the exposed flesh was crimson with blood. You could see the deep red inside of the boy. Through a large hole, piercing his body. His mouth was slightly open, slowly spilling blood, staining his teeth ruby.

You can not bear to look into his eyes, but yet you can't tear away. The stare, filled to the edge with cold horror. An ice color, too deep for the Arctic, and as dead as it's tundra. They stare off into the stars, not a single shift or change in the blue appearance. You wonder if perhaps he is there. Visiting a new place, another world, another star. His stare brought your own vision to blur behind your mask. You are not supposed to show emotion, but you could do nothing but gently close his eye lids. Letting him rest in terrorizing peace.

It couldn't have been you…could it?

Now, you are sure it was someone else, a different person. The killer was not you. You have a rightful job, you have duties that make sense. You have a family. The one who held a knife was too…how to say…Outdated.

He is dead to the world, only living inside you. Tearing you apart bit by bit. If death was the past…look to the future.


Just to make it clear that I'm not depressed or anything, this idea came from my friend who says "What if Will killed someone?" So, yeah...I made Will kill that friend…Again, no :P I'm not depressed and I love my friend3 Please review!