Don't say, "I love you" | ✔️

II

The sands that fell every passing second was how people judged time. Time was one of the most realistic concepts in the world. It was undeniably ticking and something that every living thing could see the results of: age. Aging was the results of time. With age came knowledge and that gave birth to new ideas.

Killua had new ideas, instead of running away from home.

He'd simply: Destroy his home.

Home was where the heart is, where the deepest scars are.

Sure it was crazy and insane to plot against your family, but Killua was convinced it was in his blood to have such a motive. Crazy only creates more crazy; there was no escape to it all, madness was a steady perfect never ending circle with no cut off point.

Staring out the window, dimly lit blue orbs watched the rain drops fall. Outloud he counted, "14,902, 14,903, 14,904." He tapped his pencil against his chin, gnawing on his eraser a bit. "14, 905."

"Kil." A much older voice tried to pull him from his mourning. "Do you have a good reason to be up here ignoring your studies?"

Calmly, Killua kept on, "14,916, 14,917, 14,918." His pupils moved side to side, to ensure he noted each drop splashing on his window seal. He got caught up on a number, "8...8..8...8..8.." He repeated like a broken record. "8..my first friend...I made at 8 years old."

"Get yourself, together!" A harsh whip hit the pre-teen's back. He didn't even flinch in pain. His whole entire body had grown numb and hallow, to any kind of belittling. "You're Killua Zolydck!" The woman snapped. "You don't need friends!" His mother had grown more aggressive in her fits with him.

Her madness feeding his madness, as he hung up on his singular hope.

Jerking his head up, white hair covered up his gloomy eyes. "Gon Freecss..." He hummed adoringly, "It's the most beautiful name, I know. You should call me that." His voice cracked slightly as his lips curved up in a grin.

There was no option to escape it, back when Killua was 8 he thought he could run away from his problems. Yet now at age 12, he figured the only way to do things right was to only embrace the gift of madness implanted in his veins.

"Why are you..so obsessed with that human!" There was bitter hatred in her words. Killua couldn't blame her, for being so mad. He could never blame her. Not even now, when her hands clamped around his neck and she was choking him.

The tightness made his blood boil and heart race with excitement at the thought of death. Each breath became more and more distant, as his windpipe closed up, his jaw went agape.

"Honey!" His dad busted in the room, attracted by all his wife's shouting.

Killua watched on through blurry vision, how he put his hand on her shoulder. His father tearing his mother's hands off him.

His mother pointed at him, "LOOK AT HIM! LOOK! HE STILL HAS THAT STUPID SMIRK ON HIS FACE! HE'S THINKING OF HIM! HE DOESN'T EVEN CARE ABOUT HIS RESPONSIBILITIES OR H-" Hysterically, she pushed against the man holding her.

The man attempted to calm her, "It's just a phase. He's going through a point in his life, where he wants attention and this is how he chooses to get it."

Killua let out a burst of laughter, "Haha! Ha! Ha! I could care less about getting attention from you. I want attention from, Gon! That's it!" He pointed at them like the scum of the earth they were. "Gon, understands me better than anyone else."

It was true. Killua was going to repay Gon by loving him for all the good things he's done. So he guess he had to live.....He had to live just until he was 16. Once he turned 16, he could put his plan in action.