Have you ever wondered what it feels like to kill?
In the bedroom of a young teenager, only the light of the moon illuminated the room with a faint blue glow. Through the glass, a faint sound could be heard, water crashing onto the ground repeatedly.
Despite the ambient calm and the child's sustained and stable breathing, the air seemed unbreathable.
The tension was palpable in the being, sitting, observing in front of him, without goal. His gaze was blank, yet in his expression one could notice that he seemed to be thinking deeply about a question tormenting him.
"What if I try again tonight?"
With a sigh, the boy will come to get up, observing the room around him with tired eyes.
Everything seemed to stay in place constantly, leaving the room in a mess full of meaning and logic for its inhabitant. Shadows loomed across the ground, creating almost living nightmares that Dust was getting to know.
His bare foot slipped to the side, continuing on its way out of the messy room.
The son of the house ventured silently through the dark narrow corridors, down the stairs creaking under his feet, until he arrived in the kitchen of the building.
Young Chinmoku's breathing was unsteady, his eyes flickering from side to side, observing the nighttime scenery of his kitchen.
The room was plunged into the same darkness as his bedroom, lit by an almost warm and calming light. However, the latter only increased the boy's discomfort.
Dust's pupil had a glimmer when he approached what he had come to observe. A sound, sounding like a shriek in the silent night, was heard as he painfully opened one of the drawers.
In front of him are many kitchen knives, all of different sizes and blade types.
He chose without thinking the largest of all, carrying it in his hand, before observing it carefully, almost being able to see his reflection in it.
The schoolboy swallowed, his grip tightening on the handle of the knife, as his expression seemed to change.
He seemed much less calm, his breathing becoming more dull and shaky, while his gaze was lost in his own reflection.
It wasn't hatred that he felt, because even though he tortured his mind with disturbing thoughts and scenarios, when he was one step away from doing the irreparable, he was paralyzed by fear.
However, another feeling remained in the background, very weak compared to the rest, but nevertheless remaining present in him.
An excitement.
No.
Adrenaline.
The young boy seemed to feel an almost instinctive need to run and do what he had to do. Only his morality tried to struggle painfully against his dark desires.
Tightening his grip even more on the handle of the blade, he moved back up the stairs as quietly as possible. Each step creaked with an incessant noise, with unbearable pressure. Each creak was a silent warning that he was getting closer, like a predator closing in on its prey.
His stress had clearly diminished with each step he took, walking silently down the hallway.
He stopped in front of a closed door, painted pure white, yet stained with imperfections.
The door in front of him was imposing, making him feel like nothing compared to it. It made him dizzy, drawing him like a child, facing a monster, ready to devour him with the guilt of his future act.
When he closed his eyes, he could already see the red and blue lights flashing through the windows of his beloved home.
He could already feel the smell of rusty iron reaching his nostrils.
He could already feel the viscosity of the liquid on his hands, as he could dive in, and never rise to the surface again, drowning in the chaos he himself had created.
But the end of his excursion would only end like all the others.
Dust would end up in his bed, staring at the ceiling, as if nothing had ever happened, and he hadn't thought about it.
Still, his hands would continue to shake, and his breathing would take a few minutes to stabilize.
"If I had done it, what would have happened?"
But the answers only come to those who take the plunge.
Only to those who have been able to build courage and a will to act.
They only reach those who have not let fear pin them down.
To those who let hatred and resentment fuel their desire.
YOU ARE READING
Chinmoku's Tragedy (VOLUME 1) English adaptation
Fanfiction" You'll make it Dust, I believe in you. " These were the last words he spoke before he died some time later. Those were too many words, he was at the edge of the cliff and he fell. The fall was faster than expected, no turning back was possible fro...
