How They Died (Black Butler Backstories)

He Hated the Act

Fear is used to dominate people. As long as there is an individual striking fear in a population, the choices made by society will not be sound. They will only protect their single life over the lives of the many others involved. The herd mentality is strong within the human race. Humans are foolish and stupid. We are born by the hands of others but we live for ourselves entirely. We were brought into this world without it being our choice and thus we cannot make choices for ourselves. Perhaps that is the reason why the herd mentality is so strong. Maybe it is because of the simple fact that humans started off existing without wishing to exist. This simple fact has plagued the race for all time.

This man was a simple fellow. He fell in love and he married. He had a family. He was a forensic scientist. He analyzed samples to solve crimes. He was good at his job. But, the scariest thing about him was that he related to the criminals more than the victims. He felt the urge to commit crime more than he felt the urge to prevent it. Perhaps it was because of this that the envy flowing through his blood became too strong.

He'd always had a problem with lusting after other people's belongings. He wanted their jobs. He wanted their partners. He wanted their lives. He'd sworn to himself that he'd never kill a single soul. He'd promised. But, promises are meant to be broken. That's a rule he lived by. The idea of a promise was too appetizing. It was too fragile. The fragility of it made him want to ruin it all the more. He hated permanence. Nothing is permanent. Not even life. Not even emotions. The beauty of everything was that nothing remained constant. Except for his intense feelings of envy, jealousy, and hatred. But those too fluctuate.

He didn't think it would be possible for him to fall in love with a single soul. But then he did. She changed him, for the better, and he thought that it would remain that way. He'd forgotten his own motto. He'd forgotten that nothing remains the same. Though the two were happy, that would not continue forever. He was too jealous. He was too envious. He wanted her all to himself. He wanted to trap her. He wanted to lock her up and keep her from running away. He was certain that would be the only way to keep her around. Who would love him? No one. He must cling to whatever love he had left.

She feared him.

Their love was fragile. She didn't know what to expect from him anymore. So, she secretly sought after someone else. She should've known that it would be impossible to keep her affair from him. His very existence was jealousy. That was all he knew. It was the only thing he could keep consistent in his inconsistency. He found out. Even if he didn't know for certain, he would have assumed, that is just the way he was. She became scared. She feared him more than she loved him.

"Have mercy on me!" she begged for her life. Maybe he would return to the man he once was. She couldn't hate him. She still remembered the person she'd fallen in love with. Somewhere in her heart of hearts, she loved him still, and it hurt her to no end. But, even that love wouldn't last forever. Although she couldn't find it in herself to hate him, that didn't change the fact that she could fear him.

"O villainous! 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many---either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry---why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills," he replied. There wasn't a way to stop this. He had known for too long that he'd end up like this. He didn't have the power to change fate. Nor did he wish to. It wasn't his fault. He told himself. It wasn't his wish to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. He tried to deceive himself into thinking he was innocent. Yes. It was her fault. She is the one that cheated. He is just giving her what she deserves. Right?

Wrong. He just didn't trust in the happiness he had. He didn't believe in the peace he could've lived. There was something in his mind that told him living a tragedy was better than living a fairy tale. He never understood why. Now he did. He could try and deceive his brain all he wanted with a garden of lies. But his will was carefully cultivated. He wanted her dead. He hadn't loved her as he thought. He only cared for her as if she was a tool. The tool had rebelled. It was time to prune.

"Kill me not!" she pleaded again. It wasn't going to stop the situation. She had ignored his explanation all together. This only made him more angry. What about the fact that he wanted her dead did she not understand? Pleading for her life would only ensure the fact that it would end.

"Why, go to bed and sleep," he grinned and placed a pillow to her face. He watched as she struggled for air. She grasped at nothingness. It was satisfying. It was grand. Taking a life was better than he'd imagined. He should continue. Who would be his next target?

Her body went limp and realization flooded him. He had just taken a life. He'd played God. He tore at his hair and rocked back and forth. No. No. This wasn't right. He shouldn't have done that. What was he thinking? What was causing him to do such a thing? He didn't understand himself. He didn't understand one ounce of anything anymore. What did he really want? What was truly going on in his mind?

"O fool! Fool! Fool!" he cried in the darkness. His lover now dead. His guilt now swarming his mind. Why did he do this? What convinced him this was justice? He had been on the side of the criminal catchers for so long that he'd forgotten what the difference was between the prey and the predator. He didn't want to be born. He didn't want to be alive. None of these things were his choice. The first choice he made, the one that he'd carefully considered, was an act of violence. Cursing himself he wandered into his kitchen. He grabbed the nearest knife and stabbed himself. He might as well give back the life he took from another. He didn't want to become a monster more terrible than this. He didn't want to take more lives.

"I pray you, when you shall these unlucky deeds relate, speak of me as I am," he whispered. He knew that no one would hear him. He didn't care. He hoped, somewhere, in some place, someone was watching and would remember him fondly. Not as a murderer. But as the individual he was born as. The person he used to be. What had changed him so?

A woman appeared to him, shrouded in black, a light behind her. Her face beautiful. It was not the face of his lover. He didn't care. He grabbed her hand and dragged her down to him. He kissed her, "No way but this, to die upon a kiss," he closed his eyes. He opened them again. Nothing had changed. The woman only laughed.

"I shall skip the standard speech this time," she said. "Humans that have died by their own volition shall become reapers. However, I must say, that you are the only one to have kissed me after turning. Welcome, to your new home, Othello."