his mute voices

#3

"Agh!!!-"

A loud, high pitched scream enough to break one's vocal chords resounded the room. Only the soft blanket of sopping sweat was the surface he could feel on his skin, along with the flat and thin material of cotton of his futon that blocked the tatami floor. He gripped his chest tightly - a stinging, numbing pain sent down aching sensations throughout his body, making him unable to think straight.

"Everything wasn't real, right? None of any of that actually happened, right?"

Images of familiar people in blood flashed brightly inside his thoughts. His body jolted upwards as sweat drops mixed with tiny balls of tears slipped down of his skin. Air was a difficult thing for him to grasp, as he chocked for it while softly holding his throat, wanting to check how fast his pulse was even though it felt futile.

Voices start and went "your fault" was eerily chanting with the heart within him gradually thumping faster, and faster, sending him into the depths of agony.

Everything around his world could collapse in any minute. His hands, filled with tremor, had cupped his whole terrified face tightly, because he wanted to erase them; the empty bodies, the blood of his loved ones, the cries of the ones that needed mercy, the lifeless lives, and the most important thing of all, himself. He was the one that caused it - the deaths of everything, and the fall of everyone. His hands took their lives because his mind fabricated the reward that would be given by doing so with the only thing he had craved ever since in his life which was the feeling of his existence being acknowledged.

With this pathetic realization of what he had done to the world, it electrified and stung his head with immense pressure. How can he beg for mercy for himself? To the despair he had inflicted to the people?

How can he beg for repentance to his dead siblings now?

Would this be what their mother would want?

"What a fool! What a complete fool I make! Damn everything to hell!"

With his shaking fists, using his effort to grip them tightly, he threw off his blanket aside, scrambled his steps as he tried to stand up, opened the sliding door of his room, and bolted off outside. Running away was the only thing he could afford to do.

He wanted to run away, from his wrongdoings, the bloodshed, along with his sins. What madness has he caused upon his family, especially? How dare he? How dare he?! How would the people react when they found out the grand sniper, the second gallant prince of Hoshido, Prince Takumi, killed too many, including his blood siblings? Would they stop look up to Hoshido as a peaceful kingdom? And what would their retainers be like? Or his retainers, even? Would they stop looking up to him as a prideful liege?

Would they abandon him and wage war against him and make matters worse between the current war?

" But are they still alive...? Have I... killed them as well?"

The cold winds with chilly density flowed around him as he sprinted away from his home. The wide castle grounds that owned most of the memories he experienced were now splashed in darkness - they don't matter to him anymore, because nothing matters after what he did. How dare he had the decency to sleep soundly with evil sins bearing upon his shoulders? Droplets of hot countless tears fell down a lot more from his tensed face as the deaths he did upon everyone played within his thoughts.

He shuddered his shoulders when he started feeling shadows slowly growing, as if they were about to swallow his helpless self as a whole.

When he felt his stamina giving up on him, his legs dropped down to his knees, with his back slouched in defeat. The pathetic sniper was slumped down to his knees - now unable to move, frozen in place, at this wide and huge area of the castle grounds. He still hasn't barely made a dent to flee off.