Playing With Knives- LoZ

scene 69- help

"We can't fix this if you deny any help that you're given."
She tried to talk some sense into him, but it was to late. He was gone. He had walked away.

She blinked a few times and looked down at the blanket on the ground. She picked it up and wrapped it around herself.
"I'm sorry... This is my fault."

She turned away and walked off, not bothering to wipe away the tears. She walked into the stable and sat down on her bed, not caring if people saw her tears. Why should she care? They wouldn't care.

Why did he keep doing this to himself? She didn't understand why he thought that she'd lie to him like that. It was like he was purposefully trying to hurt her by hurting himself. Why wouldn't he let her help him?

That was all she wanted. To help him. That was the only way she could help herself. The only reason she had. The only good reason she had.
Rebuilding Hyrule was a reason, sure, but it wasn't a good one. It was just something she had to do.

But Link... he was the only thing she had going for her. And if he thought everyone was against him, then... she might as well give up. Give up on everything.

He said he didn't deserve his name. The hero's name. Did he remember the legend? Did someone tell it to him?
Maybe it was both.
Either way, he thought he wasn't good enough for the name. For the title.

She wasn't fit to be a ruler. She couldn't even help him. How could she help this broken kingdom? How could she help herself?

●●●

He stood, leaning against a tree. Why was he chosen to be the hero?
He slid down the tree. He didn't deserve this.
He pulled his legs close to his body. He didn't deserve to still be alive.
He put his arms around his legs. Nobody deserved to have to deal with him.
He rested his chin on his knees. He should have died 100 years ago.
He should have died when he stabbed himself.

He should be dead.
He moved his arms so that he could bury his face in his hands.
And he cried.

●●●

Zelda realized that he didn't have the Skeikah slate. She spotted it on his bed and she picked it up to look at it. She turned it on, and after scrolling through some things, she noticed that he had written some notes in it.
She scrolled through them, reading them.

Entry 1-
I've decided to keep a diary of sorts on this. A journal. I saw Wind writing in a notebook, and I thought that this would be a good idea. It's a way to keep track of myself, I guess. Myself and my feelings.

I've been feeling odd. Sounds vague, I know. Odd as in not happy, but not sad all the time. It's been like this since the I got my last two memories, I think. I just feel... hopeless. Like something bad is going to happen. Not something like the Calamity, but more personal. I'm probably just worrying too much.

Last night, I showed the others some of the stuff that I've found. They liked it. I liked it. It was fun. It's rare that I actually enjoy myself. Partly because I don't really have a chance, but also because it's hard. I can't find much that I actually enjoy. Wind is fun to be around. He reminds me of... something. Or someone. Probably someone. It's that distant kind of remembering. The kind where it seems familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on it. It's a familiar feeling to me.