Secret Sins || Levi x Reader

Secret Sins || 1.13

(The Sinful Soldier)

"It's funny to know,
That I was born with insanity in my blood."

:—————:

I envy the children who walk the streets of Trost without a damn care in the world. They always seem to never have that look in their eye that can haunt you till the day you die. You can see children running and jumping with their friends having fun, giggling and laughing until their clenching their stomachs from using their muscles too hard. Tears pricking their eyes from laughter, smiles that are wide like valleys. Bright colored eyes that gleam in the sun, fathers who worry too much about their daughters when they play tag with boys, afraid that they will get their nasty germs on their precious little daughters.

I envy all the daughters who have caring fathers.
Or I mean, stepfathers...

I shouldn't be jealous when I see daughters walking around with their fathers, holding hands so the father knows she won't get lost in the maze of markets hoping to steal a sweet. That he won't have to endure the stress of his missing child.

I shouldn't be jealous of this, because I had a biological father. I experienced everything these little girls are too. But it's the fact their fathers are still alive is what makes me so fucking jealous.

I'm jealous because their fathers weren't — No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No! No! NO!

My father was a wonderful man! He was empathetic! Joyful! Loving! Caring! An amazing dad! I know deep down in my heart he didn't want to do it. I know that it wasn't his first and last thought. I know he was strong enough to power through it all, but something, something far more powerful than his thoughts must've persuaded him.
I know he loved us.

I know...he loved me.

—

These past few weeks I've been distant from everyone and everything, even the bar. Which shouldn't technically be a bad thing due to the amount of alcohol I drown myself in when I'm there. But it's the fact I haven't even seen Xavier in over 3 weeks, and the last time I saw him was when he grabbed my wrist while pouring alcohol onto my palm.

I don't know what state of mind he's in currently, I don't even know if he's sane anymore. He could be paranoid, he could be frantic, he could be manic, he could be suicidal, he could be self-destructive, he could be dead.

While I'm over here, trying to find the best emotions to fit this situation. I don't know what to feel since I don't feel anything. A void is in my chest, unable to produce a sensation of worry or the need to find him and talk to him — like I would — I don't feel the need to seek him out and know how he's doing after he witnessed such a mess, a mess that might get him killed.

I simply feel nothing for him.

Years and years of going to his bar, and not once has he ever touched me. I felt 'safer' around him, as if his presence gave me a sense of security when I knew there were people watching me like hawks waiting to take their strike at me. And even after spending so much time with him, day and night. I still can't seem to worry even a sliver about his wellbeing. It's like my brain interoperates his presence to be a waste when he's no longer useful to me, or he just crossed an invisible line I could've warned him about.

But didn't.

I don't have the strength to care about anyone, not that I can't, I just don't want too. Caring about someone will only bring misfortune to you and kill you once they die. Caring about another living being is useless to me...

I gain nothing from giving my emotions to someone and expecting them to give it back. It disgusts me to think about someone caring for me again, I'm the last person on earth who wants to be cared about, because I know damn well how it feels to be cared about then tossed away like trash.

I tried to love, and it failed miserably.

Who would have ever known how fragile humans can be, even though I'm technically human, I lack the human emotions people have. I lack empathy for most people, I'm simply fueled with rage half the time, unable to clear my head once I get into that state. I help people — like that girl — because I hate seeing a part of me in them, I hate seeing that same look I had when I first experienced something even the devil would consider torturous.

If I could, I would rid the world from evil, but the thing is, no matter how much your try and kill every single person who's done bad, there's no stopping someone else who's mind has grown over that sick twisted fate. No one's inherently born evil, your state of mind as a kid is fragile, a simple phrase can alter your entire way of thinking and perceiving everything. But it's your parents who make you into what you are.

(That's what makes me different)

Even as a kid I knew something was wrong, that my head wasn't in the right space. I tried so hard to believe that I was normal, and I tried many times to make friends with kids my age and it always turned out horrible. I can still picture the looks on their faces when I tried to have a conversation with them, how they would roll their eyes at me, stick their tongues out trying to mock me, while inside my head I was trying so hard to stop myself from cutting their tongues out and punch them until they were nothing but a piece of bloody flesh.

I knew something was wrong with me, from the moment I tried to be someone I wasn't.

:—————:

An: I'd like to know, do you guys prefer shorter or longer chapters?
Xoxo!

-T