Rashmond~
It's been three days since then.
This path has never been beautiful. It has always been filled with filthy blood and disgust.
Disgust for my own actions, and the disgust I felt when my face didn't contort at the deaths of innocent people.
Somewhere between all the bodies fallen beneath me, I had forgotten that I lived in the skin of one too.
That I, was a human too. The concept of emotions, happiness and sadness withered away as bodies upon bodies fell.
From my actions, many families have been pushed into despair. I felt no remorse even then. Their tears, somewhere along the lines, became meaningless. I never looked back. Not at the people, or those places.
Guns, daggers, blades knifes, swords, riffles all felt the same. Cruel. How could a warm blooded man be a killer and still be aware of his cruel actiactions something I questioned myself late at night.
I never even remembered those faces, I did not think that I was capable of that. I showed no remorse, no cruelty.
I killed because it is the only thing that I have been thought, no... It is he only thing that I have learnt.
I know that I am weak. Cowardly in fact.
I know that my actions ruined people's lives. Wives and husbands widowed, children orphaned, yet I felt nothing.
But today, after 20 years of pure agony awaiting for the moment to become a human, I felt it. This thing called emotion, that blurred my actions, pained my heart and I could not even utter a word.
Is this pain called an emotion? Is this misery caused by my own body? This is torture at it's purest form.
My eyes stared at the grave.
Adonis
1996~2015
Without a last name.
Without words of remembrance or adoration.
Those meant disrespect but were expected.
He would not pay attention to such trivial matters.
But what bothered me was the awful choice of flowers.
Roses. Roses out of all the flowers.
Roses laid out on top of the grave. Thorns. Who could show such incompetence? Then I saw that filthy person, who had to be punished for his actions.
His eyes were teary and face contorted, whiny and crying over the grave. Black clothes and black umbrella. He stood next to the women who showed similar empathy.
"He-He wouldn't do it.... He loved life more than anything. He wanted to live, to help others... He would not do something like this... He would not" The man said, his voice sounded anxious and hideous.
"You seem so troubled," She rubbed his back slowly "He must have been a very good man. Was he your friend?" Her concern was superficial.
It might seem as if she truly cared about this stranger who she had never met. Empathic, She was not that.
Each word uttered carefully, prying out information. Slowly figuring out her next question, and followed by a 'caring' sentence.
Artificial emotions seemed real to people who never had to question people's emotions. Apparently in their world each and every tear was truthful. They did not understand why people needed to fake those hurtful emotions.
Lies and truth have intertwined together in this world. Some, who have perfected the art of lies, live in human skin.
They blend together with other humans and have degraded the existence of truth itself.
She was one of them.
I knew because I was one of them too.
Cruelty and Aloofnes were in my warm blood. I made companions because I had to. I even have 'friends' in definition because I have to seem normal. I smiled even though it didn't come from my heart, or mind. I would not considered them as friends or allies, they did and I acknowledged their emotions never accepting it in my blood.
Someone did. Someone accepted each and every tear even he had the right to question.
He had a smile that came from the soul. Brightening the whole world around him.
His chuckles were tender.
But this world wouldn't let his existence be. Who could stomach such a smile in this crused world?
Hence he had to take his own life.
I would not compare myself with him. He had seen things even I could not stomach at an age when he could not even distinguish between good and evil.
He had a voice, he had a mouth, he could scream, he had not yet learned how to.
Mere thoughts of him dreaded me. It was not an emotion. It was my life. I never questioned my fate until I met him.
Unspoken words and unrequited love...
I could not explain the need of these two things to myself. Yet I abused them at my will.
Why would such an eyesore of a concept existed in those two things? Why one lead to another or why one of them caused the other. I had no such answers, nor the capability to ask those questions.
"Yes... He was my friend. My friend... " He worded those as disgustingly as he looked.
I could not look at him. I would not accept such words. The hidden existence of mine became very clear as blood gushed from his face.
That red made his face bearable to look at. 'Friend' is all that he could come up with. After living a fulfilled life with this 'friend', being showered with love, caressed with kindness was not enough for him.
After 20 years, I finally felt something. Rage.
When I with him. For few years. I did not allow myself to feel loved, nor to feel happiness because once I accepted the emotions he made me feel, I would throw everything away for him.
Disgust. Disgust is all I feel now. At myself. At this petty man without a spine.
If this man had put a bullet through my head when he first saw me this would not have happened.
I stomped at his face until my feet, through my boots, felt his bone crack.
"He wanted you to live... You, the pathetic man that you are. If it was left to me you would be chopped and burned the moment I saw you." I could not stop myself.
"You lived a life with him. Declared your love for him and now this is how you address him?"
Even when all I felt was rage, I did not scream. My humanity is truly questionable.
He should not breathe.
After all his reason to live had perished. His words could not even fool a fool.
Yet it fooled the man, the only person I wanted to save.