Post by Dûncariel on Feb 17, 2005 21:30:57 GMT -5
This was originally posted on ME:I, and it got pretty good reception. But don't read it if you have really, I mean really weird dreams. 'Cause this will make them weirder......
_____________________________
He was turning to leave, smoking gun still in hand.
It seemed as though someone had put my life in slow motion. She hit the wall, eyes wide with terror and the sudden realization of what had happened to her. For an instant they found my face, and in that instant, her heart stopped beating. Time reawaked as she slumped lifelessly to the floor, leaving on the wall a bright red trail of blood as a grisly testament to her sacrifice.
All because she had not been able to move fast enough.
I heard his light steps as he walked off down the passageway that I had just found, leaving me with the echoes of his cold laughter and the memories of terror-filled eyes begging me to make the pain stop.
It would have been bearable – the flashbacks and the memories – could I have felt. If I could have, I would have fallen to the floor next to my lifeless companion, wept with her blood-soaked form cradled in my arms.
But I felt no sorrow, nor the pang that comes with being defeated time and time again. All I felt was the cold grip of hatred. The need for revenge had locked my heart away in a frozen land; leaving behind a cold flame that would not be extinguished, even had I tried.
Another body lay beyond the glass doors separating the two corridors; a crumpled shape, lying in a dreadfully real pool of its own blood. Another of my companions, asleep in the cold, dark lake of death. I had seen her die, as well. A bullet to the back of her head as she was running – he had given her more time than the other.
I had one companion left to me, one that I could not bear to lose. If my sister found my target before I, my frozen heart would shatter into a thousand icy pieces, each tiny shard piercing its way into my soul.
With that solitary thought rekindling the fire in the hollow of my chest, I turned and began running down the corridor. A left turn at a sudden crossing point, a right at another, and on and on, seemingly forever. Then I found him.
And he had found Creina.
My frozen heart caught in my throat as I skidded to a stop in the doorway to the room where he stood, a room I had visited thousands of times before. She sat in a chair, not unlike a statue, dark eyes staring back at me; not in fear, as with the others, but with a narrowness that said “What took you so long?”<br>
My penknife slid down from the band in my sleeve to rest heavily between my fingers. I wanted so much to rush across the room; to see him bleed; to make him pay in blood for the lives of my companions. To make him pay in blood for laughing as they died. To make him pay in blood for letting me live.
Instead, I leaned against the doorpost, another Shadow, and watched him. Watched him watching me.
“You came quicker than the last time.”<br>
We had met in this room thousands of times before. Hundreds of thousands. And each time, I had lost.
“I had more reason than the last time.”<br>
He only nodded, and fingered his pistol, eyes never leaving my face. He knew about the knife. He knew every time.
Somehow, though, I knew that this time was going to be different. I would make it different.
You tell yourself that every time.
It was not my voice speaking, but his. His mouth had not moved, but he had spoken, the words as plain as the day. His eyes spoke to me as plainly as his voice.
Every time you try harder, and every time you fail. How many times can you go through with this? How many times until you are broken? You know that I can break you. It is inevitable.
My death grip on the knife tightened, and my own blood dripped through my fingers; scarlet drops falling to the ground like tears. Tears that I could not make myself cry.
“For as long as it takes.”<br>
Again he nodded, denying me the satisfaction of my revenge with one motion. He pulled the trigger.
Instead of the pain I wanted, the pain that I so longed for, I saw the smoke of the gun, felt the silent repercussions of that single shot. And I broke.
Creina’s staring eyes looked back at me from the chair, one last heartbreaking plea for help before the veil. Her skin was so very pale aside the blood; the blood so very red.
I slid down the wall, seeing nothing, hearing only his laughter. Laughter that I had heard time and time before. Laughter I knew that I’d hear time and time again. The knife in my fist sunk deeply into the wood of the wall, and I hung to it as his laughter echoed over and over again in my head.
His eyes were black as night as they looked into mine. He was inches from my face, crouched next to me, gun still in his hand.
I looked into his eyes and knew his name.
“Take me,” I whispered.
He shook his head.
“Do not deny me the end. You have taken all and everything from me. Can you deny me now? I have given everything.”<br>
And he shook his head.
“Take me!” I shouted, grabbing him by the front of his white shirt; a shirt stained red from the blood of his victims, and now from my blood.
His black stare was sad, the first emotion that I had seen from that face of solid stone.
For the first time in a thousand times, it was ending. For the first time in a thousand times, tears filled my eyes, spilled out and mingled with the blood. I was broken.
My head hit his shoulder, and his arms encircled me completely. I cried into that shoulder, and I knew his name.
His name was Death.
_____________________________
He was turning to leave, smoking gun still in hand.
It seemed as though someone had put my life in slow motion. She hit the wall, eyes wide with terror and the sudden realization of what had happened to her. For an instant they found my face, and in that instant, her heart stopped beating. Time reawaked as she slumped lifelessly to the floor, leaving on the wall a bright red trail of blood as a grisly testament to her sacrifice.
All because she had not been able to move fast enough.
I heard his light steps as he walked off down the passageway that I had just found, leaving me with the echoes of his cold laughter and the memories of terror-filled eyes begging me to make the pain stop.
It would have been bearable – the flashbacks and the memories – could I have felt. If I could have, I would have fallen to the floor next to my lifeless companion, wept with her blood-soaked form cradled in my arms.
But I felt no sorrow, nor the pang that comes with being defeated time and time again. All I felt was the cold grip of hatred. The need for revenge had locked my heart away in a frozen land; leaving behind a cold flame that would not be extinguished, even had I tried.
Another body lay beyond the glass doors separating the two corridors; a crumpled shape, lying in a dreadfully real pool of its own blood. Another of my companions, asleep in the cold, dark lake of death. I had seen her die, as well. A bullet to the back of her head as she was running – he had given her more time than the other.
I had one companion left to me, one that I could not bear to lose. If my sister found my target before I, my frozen heart would shatter into a thousand icy pieces, each tiny shard piercing its way into my soul.
With that solitary thought rekindling the fire in the hollow of my chest, I turned and began running down the corridor. A left turn at a sudden crossing point, a right at another, and on and on, seemingly forever. Then I found him.
And he had found Creina.
My frozen heart caught in my throat as I skidded to a stop in the doorway to the room where he stood, a room I had visited thousands of times before. She sat in a chair, not unlike a statue, dark eyes staring back at me; not in fear, as with the others, but with a narrowness that said “What took you so long?”<br>
My penknife slid down from the band in my sleeve to rest heavily between my fingers. I wanted so much to rush across the room; to see him bleed; to make him pay in blood for the lives of my companions. To make him pay in blood for laughing as they died. To make him pay in blood for letting me live.
Instead, I leaned against the doorpost, another Shadow, and watched him. Watched him watching me.
“You came quicker than the last time.”<br>
We had met in this room thousands of times before. Hundreds of thousands. And each time, I had lost.
“I had more reason than the last time.”<br>
He only nodded, and fingered his pistol, eyes never leaving my face. He knew about the knife. He knew every time.
Somehow, though, I knew that this time was going to be different. I would make it different.
You tell yourself that every time.
It was not my voice speaking, but his. His mouth had not moved, but he had spoken, the words as plain as the day. His eyes spoke to me as plainly as his voice.
Every time you try harder, and every time you fail. How many times can you go through with this? How many times until you are broken? You know that I can break you. It is inevitable.
My death grip on the knife tightened, and my own blood dripped through my fingers; scarlet drops falling to the ground like tears. Tears that I could not make myself cry.
“For as long as it takes.”<br>
Again he nodded, denying me the satisfaction of my revenge with one motion. He pulled the trigger.
Instead of the pain I wanted, the pain that I so longed for, I saw the smoke of the gun, felt the silent repercussions of that single shot. And I broke.
Creina’s staring eyes looked back at me from the chair, one last heartbreaking plea for help before the veil. Her skin was so very pale aside the blood; the blood so very red.
I slid down the wall, seeing nothing, hearing only his laughter. Laughter that I had heard time and time before. Laughter I knew that I’d hear time and time again. The knife in my fist sunk deeply into the wood of the wall, and I hung to it as his laughter echoed over and over again in my head.
His eyes were black as night as they looked into mine. He was inches from my face, crouched next to me, gun still in his hand.
I looked into his eyes and knew his name.
“Take me,” I whispered.
He shook his head.
“Do not deny me the end. You have taken all and everything from me. Can you deny me now? I have given everything.”<br>
And he shook his head.
“Take me!” I shouted, grabbing him by the front of his white shirt; a shirt stained red from the blood of his victims, and now from my blood.
His black stare was sad, the first emotion that I had seen from that face of solid stone.
For the first time in a thousand times, it was ending. For the first time in a thousand times, tears filled my eyes, spilled out and mingled with the blood. I was broken.
My head hit his shoulder, and his arms encircled me completely. I cried into that shoulder, and I knew his name.
His name was Death.
