Author: RachelRae PM
A little story that I have written when being bored about a man who is struggling with what he has become. Should I continue with it, or leave it?Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Supernatural - Words: 787 - Published: 10-12-10 - id: 2855301
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It's hard to forget everything that I have done in the past. Killing those men because it was what we were told to do. They were the enemy, the ones that wanted something that we didn't. What they wanted was not right, that it was not normal. But tell me who is really right: the people who say they are right, or the people that we are told that are wrong? Flash forward a few decades and I had to go through it all over again. For the same reasons, war over who was say what was right. I have seen men who could have been boys, with fear in their eyes, fighting for a reason they cannot comprehend. I have seen men who were like me, eyes black as coal, fighting because it was what they were trained to do, and not to care. Looking back, all I can think and feel is the pain. It overwhelms me.
If I told you what I am, you would be running away in fear and would not stop to understand the predicament that I am in. You don't realize what I have become. A monster that has forever become the man he once was. I have killed, and will always kill. I only need someone to understand me, to feel for me, to love me. Can you? Can you tell me when all this pain ends; when my haunting soul will let go of me? I don't want to be trapped in this world like this. I don't want to be lost in history, with no one to remember me. I need to know that it's going to be okay. The pain sinks in, and I hate myself in the morning for doing what I will be doing tonight.
I go over the edge with the smell of blood and death. I go into frenzy and I become this monster that I am ashamed of and I resent myself because of it. I have killed many men when I was a man myself, but now, I don't care who I kill. Now that I am this monster, I kill because it overcomes my sense of humanity. I've killed men, women, and child, young and old, race and religion does not apply. When you are what I am, you don't care who you kill, as long as you kill and use it to stay alive. Some have said that you won't remember the faces, but I do. I remember every line and flaw in their faces; the color of their eyes as their life is drained from them. I remember every thought and every emotion that has passed through them. I see what they see, which is me, this monster, killing them, taking them away from everything that is dear to them. But when you are what I am, you don't care, and you just feed. Because it is what you need. I hate myself every time afterwards, and I wish I could find someone to stop me from doing this, someone to find me and help.
Then you found me. You saved me from the darkness that my soul was lost into. Even if I have lost my soul forever, you found me. You were beautiful, and like me. We're monsters not by choice because we were chosen to be this by someone else. The moonlight never felt more welcoming when I met you. You said it was all going to be okay and that I don't have to go through this world by myself anymore, that I have you to lean on when I am weak, when I want to kill again. I didn't have to go and search for the answers anymore. Even if God doesn't love me anymore, I still thank Him because I found you.
I am still fighting my ways, still fighting who I am. But it helps that you are there with me, holding my hand, helping me up when I fall, and there to clean up my messes. I feel like I can control the urge more when I am around you. You tell me everything will be all right and there are other ways to control it. I trust you and I let you teach me what you know. The killing still happens, but less frequent, and you don't get mad when I slip up. You are full of understanding and kindness. I don't know what I did to deserve you. But I am hoping that every thing will go the way you see it. And I am hoping to hate myself less.