White Shadows
Tears of Blood
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Fair warning, this one’s a little strange, and you have to
think fast to keep up. First and last
parts are Ryou’s POV.
White Shadows 4 – Tears of Blood
I don’t
want to do this to him, do I? Why do I
hurt him so much?
But I can’t
make him, can I? Nothing…no, I can make
him. He’s my other half, and I love
him. I’ll always take care of him and
one day he’ll love me in return. I know
he will.
He can’t hate me. He can’t – if
he hates me…do I hate me?
I
hate him.
Yes...no…He’s
crying again, tears of blood. Who did
this to him? Me?
No…I love
him. I love him…I just wanted him to say
‘I’m sorry’. Is that so much to
ask? He loves me – he just doesn’t know
it.
He
loves me. I love him.
coin, the second half of my soul… My brother, my other…tell
me you love me…
his name – which is my name too, but that’s beside the point.
who I really was. If only I could show
them…
Ryou’s backpack on the counter and leaning over the sink to wash my hands.
sensation invigorating. Then I splash
water on my face, hoping to wake myself up.
School is such a bore.
dripping with water, and see his
face. Wide blue eyes and gentle features
stare back at me from the silvered glass.
I glare at the reflection, willing my own face to appear – wilder
bat-winged hair, narrow, darker blue eyes…but nothing happens.
The wail of
terror is still hanging in the air as I scramble out of nightmare, shuddering
with reaction. I slide out of bed and go
to the mirror – my reflection stares back at me with wild hair and dark blue
eyes. But still – is that a touch of
gentleness in the set of the mouth, a taint of softness in the eyes?
me you love me…: The thought drifts from
Ryou’s soul room. I shiver – but he’s
still sleeping, still dreaming. For a
moment I’m free.
The knife
is in my hand – I’m not sure how it got there, but it’s in my grasp, the handle
hard and solid and comforting. I raise
it to my hair – it should be shorter, so I chop off those long silvery locks
until they just brush my shoulders.
Better.
remember that night…
--Flashback –
shackles, working the fragile object through the copper bonds.
memorized after so many months of close association.
the straw-covered ground with a muffled thunk.
had not been since his ninth year – rose, tying the cloth of his smock closer about
him. He would free himself of this place
– but first he had a stop to make. He
undid the lock attaching the chain to the wall and wrapped the cool metal links
carefully around his hand.
The master’s
house was not far away; after six month of ‘training’, he knew the way well.
in this weather he would be sleeping on the roof, to take advantage of the cool
night air.
fondling the wood before he slid up, bare feet making less noise than the wind.
straw pallet, nakedness exposed to the stars of Nut.
overly loud in the night air; the slave master woke with a start.
the man’s eyes opened, uncertain now. He
had thought to strangle the man in his sleep – sudden fear raced through him,
paralyzing his limbs.
“Boy…
thought…”
The boy
snarled, fear banished behind blinding rage.
unwieldy. Bakhura
stumbled as his master ducked the clumsy swing, over balanced.
he could react, throwing him on the pallet and pinning him there.
“I think
it’s time you were given a slave-mark, boy.”
The master produced a knife from under the pallet and brought it down; blinding
red pain laced through Bakhura’s face; agony exploded
in his right eye. He screamed, but there
was no one to hear save the man who laughed wickedly at his cries.
third – warm blood ran down the side of his face like tears.
hate…and the shadows moved.
Set…the
pain must be making him hallucinate. Now
he was hearing voices. His diaphragm knotted with agony.
strength, and revenge and you will give me…power, freedom.:
He felt the
master’s hands ripping at his clothes and the rage built to overflowing.
:The
bargain is made.: Dark power flowed through him…Bakhura
screamed again, this time with fierce joy as he felt a tug on his soul, felt
him and threw him into the roof with enough force to crack the mud-brick.
longer caring, as a creature spawned from the shadows loomed over him.
his bargain, the creature that would give him revenge. He stalked over to his
master; his hate gave him strength he never knew he possessed, and almost
lovingly he wrapped the chain around the man’s neck, pulling it taut.
his tongue protruded and his limbs twitched in need for air.
-
I’m still staring at the reflection
when I come back to myself.
face. My face.
My face.
flesh is exquisite – I savour it as I do the pain I
cause in others. This is my strength,
the price I will pay to be free of this curse.
Blood slides down my cheek, dripping off my chin in a solid
rivulet. The blade tastes me again –
across the first cut, over my cheekbone.
It burns like fire, like ice. I
shiver in something resembling ecstasy.
:
second. Sign of my oath; my binding and
my freedom. I gave my soul to the
darkness – until Diabound was destroyed, and
and the Pharaoh returned, triumphant. I look in the mirror, finally seeing my
own face staring back at me…and the bitter tears of longing that mingle with
the blood on my cheek.
Death…would
have been a blessing.
yourself again, Kura-chan, and you don’t want me to
help. Why?
Don’t you understand?
there moments later. He’s up against the
wall again, surrounded by the remnants of his life this time.
here – spirits of darkness, of the dead.
They don’t come near me, but I can sense them.
“Why, Kura-chan?
don’t want to do this to you…please, say it.
Say you’re sorry…please…”
“Rot in Hell, Ryou.”
…punish him…
I lash out with a hand, a whip of
darkness cutting at his flesh. But the
spirits block the blow.
Take away his pain.
…break him…
He’s laughing at me now, a wild,
wicked sound. “You can’t do it anymore,
Ryou! I WILL be free!
Love him.
…