Broken Worlds Collide

Nothingness (Vladmir)

"So clever, whatever

I'm done with these endeavors

Alone I walk the winding way

(Here I stay) It's over, no longer,

I feel it growing stronger, I'll live to die another day

Until I fade away..." -"Until The End", Breaking Benjamin

Chapter 3: Nothingness

•~•~•~•~•~•

His lithe fingers thumped rhythmically against the butt of the guitar as a crumbled paper laid uselessly on his lap. A beige pencil was wedged at the start of the neck of the guitar, tipping from one side to another when the guitar itself was moved. Sapphire blue eyes stared at nothing as his mind delved into his innermost thoughts in which were destructive yet creative, obliterating anything in its path whilst leaving such beauty and grace in its wake. His mind was chaos in its most beautiful form. His eyes gleamed as he thought the last line over. 'Chaos in its most beautiful form...that's it!' His hand snatched the pencil and scribbled the words hastily on the paper resting on his lap. He placed the pencil back in its initial place and strummed his guitar, singing quietly to himself, as he tested out the newly added lyrics,

"Red blazes upon clear skies

But all that matters are those false lies

Grasp the darkness that's born,

Chaos in its most beautiful form"

He nodded to himself in approval as he felt pride in the lyrics he wrote now. His fingers kept strumming, his mind flowing with such grace and creativity that he could not stop his mouth from spilling the words out in a soft melody.

"So take me away, away from these thoughts

Away from these shadows

So save me from the dark, from the ones lost

From the haunting windows

That decorate my room with Hell's light.

Don't let me fall, don't let me go

Hold my hand tight

And help me defeat my foes."

He quickly wrote the new lyrics onto the paper in fear that he'll forget what he sung at that fleeting moment, his lips pulling into a small grin at his success although minimal. A loud crash wiped the grin from his face and he ran as pain filled screams echoed harshly against the walls. "VLAD!" He barged into the living area to see one of the orphans, James, curled into a ball on the tiled floor with the caretaker, Ms. Woods, standing over him with an iron rod in her grasp. Vladmir scowled as he stormed over towards Ms. Woods, his usual warm sapphire eyes ablaze with icy blue flames. He forcefully ripped the rod from her grasp and hurled it to the other side of the room, standing in front of James protectively.

"Move, Vladmir! This thing needs to be punished for his sins!" Ms. Woods commanded.

Vladmir did not move. "For what? Being gay?" His voice was deep and slightly raspy with a strong Russian accent.

"Yes!" Ms. Woods yelled, "That is against the Lord's wishes!"

He growled deeply as his fists clenched with barely contained rage and his broad shoulders stiffened. "That is no excuse for beating a child!"

Ms. Woods retaliated sharply, "I will do whatever it takes to expel the unholiness within this child!" And with that, she stormed off.

Vladmir huffed in her direction before kneeling beside James, his eyes now bright with concern, as he asked, "Are you alright?" James nodded weakly and released a soft "kinda". James was a boy of fifteen with curly blonde hair and soft honey brown eyes along with an olive complexion that was now decorated with violent blue and purple bruises. Blood began to run down the side of his face, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake, and curved slightly at the corner of his eye before resuming its descent, allowing the image of James silently crying blood come to life. Vladmir frowned as he watched the thin but steady stream of life descend to James' neck. 'Americans...narrow-minded bastards they are,' He rolled his eyes before informing James who stared at him patiently, "I am going to lift you up. I need to aid your injuries." The younger of the two nodded and at the count of three, Vladmir lifted James up as carefully as possible with no intention of worsening the injuries. "Do you ever think of your parents?" James suddenly asked with his eyes casting a far off look. Vladmir scowled at the mention of his parents, a dark look overcasting his aspect, as he nudged the door to his room open. His parents weren't dead like James' were, oh no they were still alive and well. They were wealthy business owners in Russia and were good people...until money got involved. Their kind and amicable eyes would swirl into snarky and wastrel-like, and as a boy he would imagine talons growing from their fingers and scaly spikes to rupture from their backs. He would imagine their skin to turn a sickly green and their jaws to unhinge to reveal gold saliva coating evergreen colored teeth, showing their true form.

That scared him. They scared him.

They were cheap creatures underneath benevolent human skin, awaiting for their next victim to lay their money on a diamond studded plate. And at the raw age of twelve, his parents' butler Gustave drove him to what he presumed was his secondary school. Vladmir was looking out the window, his eyes calm, as his shoulder length black hair ruffled with the breeze that seeped in from the window's ajar state. He had blinked when he saw his school blur by, and frowned. "Gus?" He asked, "You passed the school." He looked at the rearview mirror at Gustave's light brown eyes. Gustave glanced at him for a moment before returning his gaze to the road and answering, "You're not going to school today." Vladmir's frown had deepen in worry when he heard the hint of sadness in Gustave's voice. It wasn't long when they arrived in the unknown destination with Vladmir casting worried but weary looks at Gustave. And when he stepped out of the car, his eyes landing on the building sign, his body had frozen in shock.

Sir Caleb's Orphanage: Home For Children and Teens!

"Vladmir?" He looked down to see James looking up at him worriedly from the bed. Vladmir silently tended to James' injuries, his eyes vacant, as he said in a monotone voice, "No, I don't."

He would never think of his 'parents', not even in his final moments of life. He would not visit them in their time of sickness. He would only turn his back on them and walk away with his head held high, just as they did to him, leaving them with a void of desolation-of nothingness-swallowing them whole.

And he would smile.