Fate

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  • Dedicated to My Writing Buddy. Sorry it didn't turn out the way we expected
                                        

Killer...killer...killer... Voices whispered in my ear, taunting, haunting, sneering. They laughed at me, at my two halves, two souls. Finally ripped apart, shredded. Damned. Killer. You are damned now, killer. Murderer. Killer. Sick. Twisted. Vile- Laughing. So much. Taunting and hissing, they laughed as I fell at the boy's feet, this child, this lifeless, soulless body. As I cried, sobbing, hiccuping, clutching his cold form to my shaking frame. As I stood, emotionless, expressionless, staring at Death. As I turned, silently, away from this monstrosity. As my two halves, one kneeling, mourning, crying, the other walking away, separated with a final twist of the scalpel. 

My companion gazed somberly back at me. His bloodstained face and dark eyes conveyed a message, one I understood almost immediately. I felt soft sighs trickle down my cheek, and I rose my hand, ready to swipe at the foreign substance. When I pulled my hand back, a salty wet droplet gleamed back at me, laughing. And silently a small girl, resembling the monster now inhabiting my appearance, floated away from it all. She was gone. She wasn't there. She wasn't there. I wasn't there...

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If fate had liked us at all before that moment, now it truly abhorred us. Never was there one so unlucky to receive this punishment from fate, and yet the boy and I had set the ultimate record. Our reward was one my companion would carry forever.

The strangers came back at us with cold metal links and shocking sticks. The sneers on their faces and the green leaves, thrusted at them from the bystanders, seemed to us a mockery of our lives. We stood stock still, watching our captors, our strangers, stagger under the weight of inebriation. Their backs turned and they bowed to their audience, their followers, their fans. My blood soared, my heart quickened, stuttered, hardened. Now, our time, it was now. There would never be a chance like this again. 

A dark figure slammed into the bowed man, jerking him forward and introducing him to the hard floor. He rose, spit a puddle of red, and glanced at the boy. Boy's shoulders shook under the force of his anger, his black eyes lit from a dark, sinful fire. Another stranger, this one looming high over my friend, stood close behind the boy. Too close. Protect. I must protect. But my advances were stopped by a meaty bar, imprisoning me between the harsh scene and a fleshy wall. The stranger grabbed my companion, clutching him, holding, barring his escape. Hissing, clawing, spitting, I tried to free myself. I was frantic, scared, angry. Hurt hurt hurt. Make them hurt. Don't let them, don't let them, don't don't don't. But I was too late. 

The fallen man puled out a sharp shard, gleaming angrily in the harsh light. Boy threw his body back, seeming to understand long before I did. His retreat was blocked by the human wall, menacing, looming, growling. The fallen advanced, hands twitching in excitement. twitching, twitching, twitching. He grew closer, so close, too close, and I was far, far, farther than I had ever been. Stop stop stop. No one heard. The world was moving too fats. Quick quick quick went the time. Step, loom, smile went the fallen. And my companion just stared, frozen, a picture of silence in a loud frame. His mouth fell open, pulled open, by a large meaty hand. The shard can up, angry, smiling, leering. No no no. A shrill siren sounded, piercing the air, causing the wall behind me to flinch. It cloaked the air, seeping into every ear, yet it was swallowed by the sound of the laughing shard. The steps of the fallen. The breaths of my companion.

The glinting torture slashed through the air, its silent grace the loudest of all sounds. Louder than the siren, still sounding. Louder than the laughter of the fallen. Even louder than the sound of the boy's scream as the pink flesh betwixt his lips fell in a bloodied mess to the floor.

A/N: I think I re-wrote this scene about five times. And I'm probably going to re-write it again. I realize it doesn't do John any justice, and for the longest time I tried to write my way around this scene. I don't like it, but I can't take it out, because John and Violet won't let me. This is, has been, and always will be their story. So I apologize now if there isn't a happy ending in store for them. If... 

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