[M] I hear the sirens call

Alaki · 05-26-2012, 05:52 PM

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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

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UNTIL THE DAY I DIE

Should I bite my tongue until blood soaks my shirt?

Never fall apart, so tell me why this hurts so much

My hands are at your throat and I think I hate you

Word Count :: 1272Wooo, long starter as i warned you it was gonna be <3

It was happening all over again, a endless cycle which stubbornly refused to release him from within his grips. This didn't occur every night, nor each moment he closed his eyes. No, it struck him when he was feeling weak, feeling vulnerable and scared, when he was least capable of dealing that which was thrust upon him, the vivid images playing again and again within the confines of his mind on a endless repeat. Just like always it started with white; white walls that stretched on out in every direction with no noticeable end, surrounding him stood white figures, their faces and defining features drained of definition and colour, phantoms of his past, present and future in a ways the stormy male had deducted during one of his last visits to this particular dream. Grasping control of his mind he tried to re-direct what he was seeing whilst things were still pleasant and bearable, for it was his dream and one would think that a male such as he could master the visions of his mind. Desperately he tried knowing his efforts would be fruitless, the dream more stronger, more demanding to be seen then his want to avoid the reality it would lay out before him.

Thrust outside of the body he watched from a birds eye view of the white scene, his grey streaked body lay in the centre of the purity, a taint upon it; his form younger then it was now, not as scared and as damaged. Innocent to some degrees still if he could ever have been described in such a manner having come from blood and lived through it. His younger self desperately flailed upon the snow like surface, blindly reaching for anything, for something, his own claws ripping into his body and tearing soundly through his own flesh, splattering flecks of blood around him. He was tainted and he tainted all those around him with his misfortune, he caused himself harm and left blood upon those he cared about; the image before him gave that of a clear message, despair beginning to seep it's way into the broken heart of the young samurai.

Such truth he had know for so long, for why else would his family be slaughtered by white, those of white he loved abandoned him so or betrayed him. It was simply foolish to believe he had ever thought himself worthy of their love, ever believed that maybe he'd find a place of his own in the world where he was happy, where he felt loved. But was such a thing possible when he destroyed all he touched? All he cared about?

Small tremors of horror began to cover his form, arms wrapping around himself for they were the only comfort he ever had. Helplessly he watched his younger dream-self bleed out from more and more self inflicted injuries, his bones began to snap, limbs twisted to unnatural angles as he fell still on the ground and silence filled the white space. Then he screamed, the sound full of the suppressed agony, loss and hurt that had been building up within him for so long, it's outlet limited to training and small acts of insanity and violence, but they were never enough to rid him of it, never enough to cure him of the darkness that lingered within.

To some level he was aware that he had began tossing within his sleep, mumbling incoherent Japanese, French and English words, mixing in a form of nonsense, knowledge was with the Angelo and he full understood what horror betide him in the rest of the dream.

Moving as if the broken dream-child body of his was their vocal point, the white faceless ones began to draw in closer to the body and it's surrounding pool of blood. As the approached the blood moved, irrationally sliding over the white surface as if being directed by a magnetic, unable to resist the pull of it and being freely shaped to it's will. Words began to sprout around the shattered body, words that always whispered within the confines of his mind whenever he was happy for a moment 'you did this, you tainted them, you pushed them away' the blood changing and forming words faster and faster, accusations and truths he couldn't deny for they were just that. Truths, all things that he had done and would likely continue to do.

Drawing out their procession, the faceless beings reached the body, one bending down and kneeling into the blood and reaching out to the broken form, grasping it by the throat it raised him from the ground and held his young self face to face; the white face began to morph into those he has hurt, those who had betrayed him. Faces he so wished that he didn't have to look at and remember each time he closed his eyes. With each new face they opened their maws, the pure white beings revealing a mouthful of rotting and decaying teeth, sections of their tongues missing.. the taint he had done to them all and each time they mouthed the word 'you'. Blaming him, naming him the criminal for sins he wasn't sure of, only knowing that he had done them.

Flickering through the faces he began to call out from his sleep, the single word “No” whispered under his breath over and over again, trying to fight the dream in any way he could. Watching helplessly the final face appeared, the one that hurt him the most to be reminded off and the one he so desperately wished that he had never encountered. “Matteo” the name pierced his heart to speak allowed, pain and unbearably emotions blocking out any rational sense, “What did I do wrong, why? Why?” he asked, although he had long since known the answer to his own questions. Because he was not worthy of another’s love... because he was broken and could only taint others.

Drawing in a deep breath he work with a start, sitting bolt upright and throwing the blankets away from himself, too hot and too breathless to bare them on him. For a moment all he did was sit there, wide eyed and shaking like a terrified pup as he slowly evened out his breathing as best he could, blue eyes flicking around the room and filling with relief as he realised that Alex had yet to return; he didn't want the Zephon to see this.... to see his weak, broken self. So hard he had tried to project the image that he was fine to others, that he was a strong, stable leader.

But that was just lies. He was never strong, he opened himself up to others and allowed them to break him, to take away his heart and destroy it. No smart wolf would ever have allowed for such a thing to have happened. Drawing his legs up to his chest he wrapped his arms around them tightly, burring his face into his legs he just allowed himself to sit there for a moment as he fought to regain a sense of calm. To find his fake self that he showed to the world around him; for if others knew that he was still haunted by the past they would see him as nothing more then weak and unworthy.

And if they looked down upon him.. then he'd kill them, for no one could look down upon him, he would not allow for anyone to see him as weak and helpless. Spread the taint and continue living within the endless cycle he had chosen for himself.

Image courtesy of the-night-bird

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