Lilies For You

"Love before we burn out"

It wasn't that I couldn't let go of him.

The demons in my heart were the ones that didn't want leave him behind.

When I walk into his room I would steal a glance at the bed we once hid under. His brother would count from one to ten - those were the times when we would giggle until the blanket is lifted and his brother shouted at us.

' Found you! '

His brother, Kane, would have shouted with innocence.

Those words rang in our heart and mind but their true meaning never truly registered. However, everything became clear when we looked at each other. Why? Simply because in this life we have found each other.

He would pluck me the lilies in his mother garden and I would steal the brownies from my mother's oven for him. It was an exchange and in between all these transactions he got my heart and I got his- we became best friends.

Every day without fail since we were seven if he did not manage to grab me a lily he would run over with his idiotic grin and weirdly gelled hair. When the grandfather clock struck 12.00 P.M, he would engulf me in a hug. All because of that stupid promise he made to me during Christmas when I cried that I wanted white lilies but there were none.

When he was sick.

When the typhoon hit.

When his father was in the hospital.

He was there holding me with a small smile, smelling like he jumped into a dirty pond and crawled back out- without fail he would be there for me. That was until that winter where the lilies once again withered.

His body fell on the floor with a ' thud '. Those bright green eyes shone so bright with fear not for himself but for me. The blood pooled on the floor soaking his favorite white shirt- his lucky shirt. His knees gave way and the light left him. His life was gone and all I could do was watch as the snow fell.

The monster holding the weapon glanced at the clock on the wall that struck 12.00 P.M and told me with a sickening smile. 

'Merry Christmas, Star .'

--

" Stop staring at it like he would jump out from it. "

The voice startled me as I turned around and stared at the carbon copy of him, the same bright green eyes and tall frame with a lopsided smile. I blinked once, then again, just to make sure but it wasn't him.

It will never be him.

"I can't believe your parents haven't thrown this old thing away " I gestured at the bed that we used to hide in. " I bet it still makes that weird noise when someone sits on it. " I smiled at Kane and walked out of the room before my mask slipped.

" My parents can't move on " He paused as I quickened my pace knowing what he was going to say but unable to stand hearing those words. After all these years I am still a coward. If he was here he would be shaking his head at me with a frown.  " Just like you. "

I took in a deep breath and stopped walking before turning around and pointing a hard glare at Kane.

"Kane, I am sorry that I haven't been back but I have my reasons and that is not because I am still afraid." Lies, but Kane didn't need to know- no one needed to know the truth of what happened that day when the first snow fell.

I would bring it to my grave if I have to- no one needed to know I saw the moment his soul left him or that he died painfully with a strangled half moan and scream. 

That demon was mine and I won't torture anyone else with it.

It was my punishment and I embrace it.

"You know, I can see through your lies - why are you still lying after all these years? " Kane asked, his eyes gleaming with frustration and sadness.

I merely shook my head and walked away for I didn't have an answer.

Perhaps it was because that was the only way I could continue to live on to suffer and torture myself with lies. 

I moved on.

I no longer remembered him.

I loved him but I don't love him.

These are the truth.

lies.

--

Christmas Eve had always been the same in the Reinhart household- it was a huge gathering of relatives, neighbor or even strangers but ever since 5 years ago the Patersons never joined us.

The family of five including Kade would visit his grave and go through his memories together. One year they took out this large box from his room that had been left untouched - rummaged it and found the sticker book we collected together when we were kids.

I couldn't contained the tears, broke down and never showed up at the gathering again.

I traded the gathering for entertaining my parents' guest at the party but when the clock struck 12.00, be it midnight or afternoon, I would hide in my room and curl up into a fetal position to rock myself, willing myself to believe that this year would be different.

' Hey '

It was a hallucination.

' Star '

He wasn't real.

' Won't even look at your best friend huh?'

I looked up with tears swimming in my eyes and saw him- he was wearing the same clothes he did that day, his hair styled in the same manner and his eyes that I loved twinkled with bright mischievous - just the same. His smile was still in place as he looked at me with love.

I didn't deserve it.

'You should stop, Star. This ' He pointed between us and said with that playful tone 'is not healthy '. One of his hands was in his pocket as I heard the clock tick. 'I love you don't forget that.'

He glanced at the clock and his smile turned sad.

11.58.

'Do you know I hate it when you hide yourself in the room?'

11.59.

'You hermit like some monk'

I muffled a strangled laugh as tears ran down my cheeks. He closed his eyes, his smile never leaving those pale pink lips as he whispered those words I have heard more than once but never listened.

'Don't look '

12.00.

Once again the scene played out in my head - the gun shot sound, his bright green eyes, that plain white shirt that smelled of him all the damn time and the broken smile.

This time I screamed.

I didn't want to see it or remember it. All I wanted to do was lie next to him even if his body is cold or the fact that there was blood on him. If he was no longer in this world, I wanted to chase after him be like the wind seeping into every corner of the world or be a real star and roam the universe, crashing down on the world and dissipating into nothing but a shower of fire.

This time, I ran to shower even if it was winter. The cold didn't matter.

I heard the banging of the door.

Kane's voice- shouting about something.

My parents sounding nervous.

I didn't care because I missed him and I wanted to see him bring lilies to me once again.  My vision turned blank, black dots appeared at the shower mirror. It shattered into a million pieces on the floor.

I could see blood.

It wasn't mine. Or was it?

It didn't matter anymore. Not now, not ever.

--

"I can't believe this "

Cold water splashed onto me and I jumped up from my lying position, instinctively noticing that the bed I was lying in wasn't mine. It was his. The moment I realized that, I jumped off and stared at the bed in fright.

" sweetie " My mother's face was red and her eyes swollen while her actions were cautious as if I was a wild animal and any slight movement would have scared me. My father was standing next to her holding her as if providing support. His parents stood at the other corner, eyes worried, wary and scared. Kane stood glaring at me once again with frustration.

"Mum, dad , Aunt May, Paul,  Kane " I addressed each of them carefully, making sure I don't pause. I took a glance at my wrist and saw bandages wrapped around my hand from my arm to the tip of my fingers. 

" I am fine " I took in a breath.

"It was just a mild panic attack and I assure you that it won't happ-" before I could finish the sentence Kane walked over to me and slapped my left cheek. My face whipped to the left, gasps were heard in the room.  

 " You are an idiot " Kane whispered as his hands clenched into fists.

Before I could process what was going on he dragged me by the wrist- my left hand that was left unharmed and pulled me to sit at his desk, grabbed the laptop and pushed it open before clicking onto a file.

"No one figured out his password but I did " Kane glared at me and I saw the pain and tears swimming in his eyes. "It was STAR1200 ".

"watch this." with those words I saw a dream play across his screen and  that his screensaver was still that picture I hated so much- of the beach and us screaming like we were aged 4 even though we were 16 at the time.

One year before he died and everything went up to flames.

"Urm Hi" It had been 4 years since I last saw a video or even a picture of him but he was still just as I remembered. I wanted to turn away to look at something else to make sure my mask didn't fall off but I did not.

I couldn't bring myself to look away.

"This is awkward, know that I am enduring this for you, Star " His eyes on the screen shifted left and right, a nervous habit. " I never knew being recorded was so nerve wrecking " He frowned "Okay I am recording myself not being recorded."

I heard Paul sniffling with a small laughter.

"Star erm hi or wait I should stop saying hi. "  He scratched his head, then took up his acoustic guitar and grinned into the screen. "So I know you are a depressing soul and all unlike me." He paused as if to bask in his ego and at the corner of my eyes I saw Kane roll his eyes.

"Okay joking, but here is your favorite song " He coughed to clear his throat and than his voice resounded through the room with the song Konstantine.

'Spin around me like a dream '

'We played out on this movie screen '

'And I said'

'Did you know I miss you'

As the song came to an end I had tears rolling down from my eyes- gods I am so sick of these tears but my smile matched the one he was wearing on the screen.

" I did tell you that my Christmas present this year will beat yours right? " He chuckled to himself. "Now, run towards our hideout and find the ultimate gift" He fidgeted and looked nervous but that smile didn't falter- in his eyes hope was swimming , deep and well.

" This year will be different- I promise. "

Without waiting for anyone, I sprinted out of the room and before long I reached our tree house.

Our fathers built it for us when we were 10, and it was our little hideout. We played hide and seek, family, cooking and even sand castle in that place but we stopped hanging out in the three house when we hit puberty. 

It was too embarrassing, thus no one ever came up here anymore.

Since his death this place had been forgotten, abandoned and laid idle at the back of our houses.

The tree house didn't change and before I could find his ' gift ' there was a white cloth sprinkled with blue glitter hanging on the wooden makeshift wall right in front of me. 

'Pull it'

Unconsciously I inched towards the cloth and pulled it.

He had always been on the creative side - the drums, guitar and piano - he could play all the instruments with ease. The most amazing part was that he could draw and paint like no other. At times I wondered if he was a painter in his previous life.

When I joked with him about it, he would shrug and start tickling me before we tumbled onto the grass laughing and squealing.

Idiots- that's what our parents called us.

My eyes couldn't leave the wall- it was painted.

A painted picture of a tree with million of branches and at the end of each branch there were pictures of us. Sharing an ice cream when we were six, sitting on the swings but accidentally falling on the sand beneath us when we were seven and a picture of us on his bike with his bright smile and opened mouth.

I giggled at the memories- he was such a cheeseball.

At the top of the silver painted tree, there was a bright yellow painted star with an arrow painted on it followed by a sentence. 

I didn't want to comprehend it at all.

" Lily Reinhart, I think I love you so would you be my girlfriend " Kane who was standing behind me read it like a statement but it was painted with a question mark. 

" I would bring you lilies during spring and when I can't I would give you a hug everyday without fail sharp at 12.00. " Kane's voice cracked but he didn't stop and continued. 

" Give me a shot, Star, before we burn out " Kane words ended in a whisper as I choked on my tears.

For the first time in 4 years since Kade died I lost myself completely to my emotions. I was crying, screaming, shouting and kicking as Kane held on to me whispering soothing words with a voice that sounded so much like Kade.

"Yes, you idiot." I whispered and stared at the tree he painted. With a firmer voice, I repeated.

" Yes "

" That day the stalker was there  holding me down," I paused and choked again " I was fighting so hard when Kade walked in. " Saying his name sounded weird as I have not uttered the syllables for four years. " He was such an idiot "

"He was murdered right in front of me. " I continued, my eyes were blurry and the warmth of Kade's back as he carried me down didn't help in the least but I continued.

I knew today my demons were to be revealed.

These people who Kade loved deserved to know- his parents were crying as the words tumbled out from my mouth. Incoherent and fragmented sentence but they understood or perhaps it was the emotion behind it.

" He died painfully " It was difficult to talk while crying but I couldn't stop. " I saw his eyes dim, the blood flowing from his head like a waterfall and he made this sound " I paused to contained a sob. " this strangled sound that sounded like he was suffering."

"It's my fault, I am sorry I am-" Aunt May engulfed me in a hug and cried onto my shoulder.

"Lily my son loved you, he died as your hero- he must have been happy I am sure." 

" Gosh a blind man could see how in love he was with you girl " Paul added with a forced smile, eyes glistening with tears but I could see the relieve in it. " That boy couldn't keep a secret to save his own life."

I could not say that I am okay or it will be alright in the future.

All I know is that today is the last day that I would shiver in fear as the clock strikes 12.00.

Perhaps when I feel better I would go see a therapist.

As time passed and I have a firmer hold on heart and soul,  I would return to this tree house and laugh at all the stupid pictures he pasted on the wall. While imagining his expression as he wrote that line, he probably cringed.

I laughed like I haven't before as my parents stared at me weirdly but Kane laughed along with me and soon everyone joined. No one know what we were laughing at or if there was a reason to laugh but Kade didn't leave us sad things in fact he left us beautiful memories of his moronic self.

"Merry Christmas, Kade and I love you too." 

I felt a fleeting presence in front of me as his features flashed across my eyes and I heard the wind whispering in my ears. In the middle of winter, a miracle occurred as a lily bloomed on a patch of land where snow surrounded it.

"Lilies for you."

--

Sylvia's Sprint

Running was never an option, at least not for me. It is an act of turning your back on aims and people who depend on you; worst of all, it is an act of betraying yourself. Running was a conscious thought of surrender, the passiveness of ignorance.

I wish I could have said the same for Sylvia. Whether it was just for the thrill of it, or for escape, my sister loved running. With the churning of air beneath the soles of her feet, giggles likened to the sound of merry bells over Christmas, and the cold blast of wind beating against her wild auburn red hair, she was an absolute delight to everyone who knew her around town.

She also, however, loved running when the situation demanded her presence. When breaking a valuable marble vase in our home, she would run, quick as the wind itself, leaving me behind to take the fault for the mess of things. Often, I took the brunt of her accidental mistakes. It wasn't hard to pin it on me either. I was clumsy, stubborn, sharp-tongued, and bitter.

I wasn't always so bitter. I was once as carefree as Sylvia, free as a bird would be. But everything changed when the jewel mine in our town was claimed under the name of the King himself. Suddenly, a lot of families lost their main source of income and instead had to depend on secondary sources like farming or planting crops. Our soil wasn't even the most fertile available in the kingdom. Soon enough, we would all be plunged into poverty and utter misery.

It also didn't help that Rory betrayed me and joined the King's forces instead after dad passed on to the afterlife.

As if that wasn't quite enough. Rory joined the fleet of soldiers that was deployed to eradicate our township once and for all. Men toughened up, women learned quicker through the art of healing, potions, and the essence of magic that lied benign in our blood unless awakened. The air grew heavier, and so did many of our hearts. One day, I trudged out our doorstep to realize that everyone was just like me. Bitter, cold, miserable.

Everyone except for Sylvia.

As the cold winter nights came, so did the day of imminent war draw ever closer. Some cried, some prayed, some trained, and some others simply steeled themselves for what was to come. The last night before the war was to commence, the King's forces already having stationed themselves visibly about a mile from the town's gates, I took a visit to the walls to hear the none too familiar lyrical sound of my sister's laughter.

That night, everyone who had eyes stared at the petite young woman, remarkable in her beautiful smile, and wondrous as to her curious mirth. Those who had ears listened.

Dawn broke, and it was an all-out war. Everywhere I looked, people were dying. Dark red blood splattered across the earth, across clothes, armor, and faces. My face. For a few panicked seconds, I very literally saw red.

I willed my feet to run. Please run. But I was petrified. I couldn't move an inch. Through the clearing red of my vision, I saw a big, burly man equipped with a terrifyingly large axe coming towards me with a war cry.

I urged my energy to manifest itself in the form of magic. I pushed, failed, and tried again. But there was no time. My heart palpitated hard in my chest. Soon, my blood would be shed. Why can't I run?

My vision cleared. In a split second, when all my senses began to fail me and the world started to become a blur, I heard the light, agile footsteps that fall in a pattern so utterly familiar to me that my attention snapped towards it. Red auburn hair, thin limbs, the swipe of a blade.

I couldn't run, but my sister always could. Today, Sylvia ran to save my life.

The man stumbled backwards, having had a cut delivered swiftly across his face. The axe in his hand fell to the thinly blanketed snowy ground with a soft thud. I gazed at her, lost in surprise and relief for a moment.

In the next heartbeat, a sword cut right through her ribs and emerged on the other side of her body. I felt the color fall from my face as surely as my heart fell deep in the recesses of my being. I glanced at the perpetrator.

Rory.

I screamed. Devastated, wild, unforgiving fury.

The earth shook, but people did not stop fighting. Rory stumbled and tripped over Sylvia, who laid shaking on the floor. I felt energy building up inside my core, inside my heart barely held together by pure fury. Coils of strength intermingling and pushing outward, against my skin, begging for release.

I was told always to keep it in. Conceal. Live and let go.

How could I, mom? Sylvia is lost to us now. Laughter was truly gone. Running was not always a bad thing, but I've learned that lesson much too late.

Rory stood his ground and took a determined swipe at me. On his face was a look of apathy unlike any other. I couldn't believe this man once took my heart in his filthy hands, and I willingly let him.

"I had no other choice." Rory explained. Brief, unfeeling, merciless.

My turbulent emotions surged.

"Goodbye Rory." I widened my stance, and with both fists, hammered down on the earth. The snow shook as the earth seemed to cut itself open in lines only where the enemy stood. More screaming - people seemed to particularly enjoy following in my footsteps.

Each and every one of the enemy was caught between the earth, suffocating and begging for air. Some even had too much pride to beg. I noticed the King had only sent a small fleet of soldiers, they had not even backup in case the mission failed.

He underestimated us.

I pulled my fists up into the air and clenched them tighter. All around town, you could hear bones breaking in many sickening tones. With each pained yelling that decorated the air, the worst I felt for taking another life. But then I look at my sister, and suddenly it felt as if there weren't enough soldiers' life to pay for her death here in today's war.

Rory was the last to go. I took intense pleasure at watching his skull burst into a thousand pieces. I wiped off his blood that sprayed across my tunic with the cloth that I yanked from his broken body. I threw it back at his corpse, or what remained of it as my mother ran towards me, enveloping me in a warm embrace that coaxed tears to my eyes. The remaining townspeople only looked at me, transfixed.

Sylvia was gone. I held onto my mother's forearm for balance. My knees were about to give out.

Now mom was all I had left.

Next, I had to get to the King personally.

The question is, in which direction do I run?

Fighting For It

She had fought in wars one after another.

In search of that one thing that sates the thirst in her soul. When morning dawn upon the world she pushed her limbs and muscles to move in desperation as her core cries out. She didn't want to fight anymore as the blood and gore petrifies her but she cannot falter, not until she finds it.

The confusion of her quest or even the difficulty of it perhaps lies in the fact that she has no clue what she was searching for. Even when she had slaughtered and drown herself in sadness or devastation her mind had remain blank as her heart became jaded and hurt.

Than came the greatest war that she had ever fought. 

It was a war below her, it can be said to be unworthy even more so than the blunt sword in her treasure box.

As this war is one where she and the few of her men had to fight with children. Little innocent beings that did not age above fifteen. Innocence was carved into their feature and the fear in their heart shone so bright it hurts her much more than the stab of a sword.

Yet she continues to fight.

Her sword pierced through the right eye of an innocent child as the blood bubbled from his mouth and spilled on the torn white shirt. It was a gruesome sight but she did not scream, she merely took the weapon from child's hand and disarm it. Leaving his corpse and pile of sands along with rest of the fallen children as her comrades retreat to their camp.

Their gaze was like her's- worn.

Along the way she forgot the reason as to why she was fighting in the first place. What was the thing that she was searching for? Why was she even searching for it in the first place? She didn't need it as she could still breathe, eat and smile without it.

It was a process but as time pass and more blood is spilled her hunt of what would sate her soul had become nothing. The war she fight for is merely a pattern of life that she has to go through as it fills her belly and bring her victory that would allow her a moment of joy.

Even if the joy was not real and will not last.

Today as she tore through the door in her war form.

Her heart continues to beat but her soul has gone cold as it is frozen in a cage that she has build over the times of every life she took and the lies she told herself.

I am alright.

This is how it should be.

The lies repeated in her brain like a broken tape recorder and she believed it, as the thirst of her heart was something that could not be quench. The wars were too long and the quest to search for it had left her in pain while the scars throbs at night. She had enough of the pain which is why her sword grew sharper and the armor grew thicker even when her heart remain empty.

However, she was proven wrong.

When he stood in front of her.

His frame lanky and thin while limbs were bend in a manner that was unfamiliar to any human being she felt the tears fall. Tears she did not know that could still fall from her blue orbs- she rubbed her eyes clearing away the flood to take a better look at him.

His smile was loop side as the bruise prevented him from smiling with two sides. He was shifting left and right in a nervous manner - like the little boy he was when they first meet all those years ago. He was beautiful, even with broken bones, twisted limbs, million scars or bruises as his soul shine bright.

She thought that she had lost him.

Now after all this time she has found what she was looking for and in truth she was not looking for him. Even if she loves him to the point of no return, he was not the light she was hunting for. This never ending search that she had endured could be found not only in him but through his eyes she found it.

It was hope.

Perhaps, it is a vague expression of the object of her desperation pursuit but it was the nearest word that can be used to describe. It was hope in humanity, in life, in luck, in learning- it was something very simple but can be lost along the growth and fall of the war we fight in.

Each evil deed we do chips away that feeling in us.

"Sorry, I am late." He whispered as his warm arm engulfed her.

She chocked on to her tears.

He wasn't late as it will never be too late to find ourselves and pick up the pieces that has been scattered across the fights we have been through. If there is still breathe left in us this is not the end as deep down of us hope always exist.

The key is to fight for it. 

The Fence

Defiance can sometimes bring with it such liberating sensations. To do exactly what you've been warned, again and over again, not to - that was what I had done almost twelve months ago. Most of my time spent over the fence was a good one. I had hoped it would last forever. I only wish what happened as a result of that was as easy to forget as most insignificant things in my life.

But until this day I can still remember the warmth of his breath against my lips as we laid under the beam of the morning sun, skin touching from head to toe, the light spray of freckles over the field of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the feeling of him still snug inside of me. Most of all, the despair set in his deep blue eyes knowing what will come for us next.

For nine months after our little escapade, I returned from the other side and devoted all my time, energy, and willpower to creating a perfect warrior out of myself. It was all I could do to keep myself distracted and focused on my priorities towards myself, my organization, and my nation. With time, my eyes, ears, and instinct sharpened. My resolve, core and muscles hardened. I was ready for the oncoming clash - ready to carry out the commands required of me. Nothing could stand in my way.

Or so I thought, until the day itself arrived. Standing dressed in my suit and armor in the freezing cold and the blistering wind biting into the exposed skin on my face while carrying with me my spear in my right hand, I find my sharpened senses a waste when my surroundings all but unravelled themselves to the lone man standing naught but a few steps away, as petrified as I am.

I feel the muscles in my thighs and arms shaking, rearing to go, yet my nerves get the better of me. I hear war cries all around me, yelps of pain, screams of defeat. I feel Cooper's calloused hand hard on my shoulder as he tries to yank me back to reality, hear him yelling into my ear, telling me to fight.

I tell myself to fight. To take up my spear, to take a step forward. The more I tell myself to put my body into action, the less clear my vision becomes. Soon, I feel a wetness on my cheek I don't remember having since I was as young as a babe.

The quickest movement launches itself across my vision in a display of grey and wood brown. Another spear - the enemy's. Cooper coughs, then retches, and it is the ugliest most shattering sound I've heard. The assassin watches as the life seeps out of Cooper's eyes before tugging his spear out. Blood lines the edge of his blade as his amber eyes sweep across Cooper's shell of a body on the snow beneath our feet and finally land on me.

I am no longer caught in a daze, but I am shaking. It is a shiver so great my teeth rattle, my grip on my weapon unsteady. Still, I stare into the assassin's eyes, challenging.

Time isn't wasted on his end. I see his blade coming right at me from atop. A headshot. I lift my spear in a vain attempt to protect myself. Before any contact can be made, he pauses midair, eyes rolling back up into its sockets, and his blood spraying across my face. Then he collapses to the red snow above Cooper, lifeless.

Jack stands before me. My skin tingles with an awkward enlightenment. It feels like ages since the gap between us was this close. His eyes are still the same unmistakable blue.

He turns towards me hesitantly. Our gazes lock, and my heart races for him.

"Gillian!" Someone shouts at me. Deziree. "What in God's name are you doing just standing there?"

I don't think. I move.

Jack reacts, his blade coming down hard against mine - the screeching sound of it deafens my ears. I leap back and swing my spear from the opposite direction, but he manages to defend himself again. We go at it for a while with none of us breaking a sweat. It is evident that neither of us are trying very hard.

At some point in time, I realize that only one of us will come out of this alive. We can't be playing pretend forever. Not this time.

I falter an inch. It is that inch that costs me.

I feel the blade of his sword pierce through my skin and lodge itself painfully between my ribs, coming out through my back. A long, deep and steady stab - I never thought Jack had it in him. I feel the sting rival that of the excruciating pain in my heart. It is a relief at best - that there was some form of physical pain after all that could hurt as much as my heart has been for the last year.

I fall to the ground, but it never hits me. Jack has me in his arms, the hardness in his eyes giving way to tears that flooded his cheeks. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, getting the last sniff of the scent in my hair, and then puts his lips on mine, a soft, warm comfort.

I return the kiss as much as I could with my strength fading and consciousness blinking in and out of existence.

"I'm so sorry, Gill." He whispers, his words ragged with regret. He grabs ahold of the hilt and pulls his sword out with one quick yank. I feel the pain wash over me like a tidal wave anew, sweeping me more into the darkness. My head spins and I see dark spots invading my vision.

"Gill." He pats my cheek, but I barely feel it. My senses are numbing. I laugh, a short quip perhaps, before I die. "Gill," he beckons again. "Stay with me."

I manage to open my eyes a few seconds more to see his charming face just once more. "I never should've crossed that bloody fence." I laugh weakly. I cannot see him anymore, even his voice is a far off echo.

"I love you." He says in a rush before it's too late.

I can speak no more. With all of my remaining strength, I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and suddenly the pain ceases, along with everything else. For the first time in forever, I find myself a peaceful rest.

Rock Bottom Symphonies [Macabre Dance]

I'm running out of time.

Silver streams of light flow past me while the continuous attempts to move forward even a little bit render my efforts obsolete. It's an odd feeling, being stuck in spot while trying to force your body to move. I need to move! Before...

I do not finish that despairing thought, wanting, hoping that my attempt is not in vain.

I can feel the connection to my wife, the love of my life, cut off suddenly, leaving a gaping hole in my consciousness. It's so empty wheredidyougoemptyohgods-

The wound in my soul drags crimson bits of my soul out, excruciating, unfathomable.

How did things end up this way?

I stare at the pallid smile of my beautiful Angel, the forbidden creation of my love. Blood blossom lips stretched into a ghastly smile, staining the innocence of youth. "Hello, Papa." The wolf in lamb's skin uttered demurely, as if it really were my frail, precious child.

"Look," the creature in my darling child's skin giggles sweetly, "I made Mama look pretty! Red looks good on her too, right?"

Dumbly, I blink at the sight before me. I feel so numb. The quiet in my mind is shattered when it finally registers; doll-like, broken, my wife, dangling limply in our child's no not our child- monster arms.

In the next moment, while I am still stunned by the incredulous, incomprehensible reality, the fiend had appeared before me in a fiery mirage of shadows. "You're not real." My denial poured out stubbornly, relaying the futile hopes of my wounded mind, my shattered heart.

A mocking light glints in mercurial pools of silver, matching the twisted smile of innocence on lips stained by murder. "Oh, dear! Are you feeling alright, Papa? Maybe you should take a rest. You don't look so well." The creature purrs tauntingly.

An involuntary step back, and I realize my mistake. Predators can taste the fear in the air. Desolation is their ecstasy.

My only thoughts were full of confusion; wondering and lost.

In my last moments, before a pale, finely-boned hand delicately plucked my palpitating heart out with deceptive ease, I managed a glance of regret at the other half of my soul as she lay haphazardly on the scarlet soaked ground of our living room floor.

We survived so much, trials and tribulations. All was for naught, for what we sought to protect, it became our downfall. How ironic.

"Thank you for your blessings, Papa dearest." A last sincere whisper of hellfire in my ears, as the life in my body is stolen, ripped out of my empty shell. A tear falls from my closed eyes as Thanatos beckons me to slip into eternal sleep.

Starting With You

Every end must have a beginning, and in itself represents a new one. Sometimes, for the sake of drama and emotion, we consider the man lying comatose in a hospital bed for most, if not all of his life as the man worthy of sympathy; the armed soldier putting his life up for sacrifice for the nation's sake as a man worthy of being crowned a hero; the secret spy of an international organization as the master of shadows and subterfuge.

And perhaps, where these cases are concerned, credit is due where it is deserved.

But what most people fail to see is the single red rose that a broken, penniless man gifts to his lover, or the deep cut from a chainsaw a father suffers from a single mistake he made at the factory that costed him his arm forever, only to feed his children who had no mother to call their own.

A hero may fight and bleed, win and lose, but so do we.

Taking this into account today, I stand here amidst the crowd of bodies shuffling about in all directions around me almost in a blur of a myriad of colors. I smell a sharp lavender, a clean soap scent, the stench of sweat and dirty socks, and the unmistakable flavor of baked goods.

I see a woman seated eight steps away, face in her hands and weeping her heart out, a couple that embraces one another, glad to be finally reunited, I see the haunted look on a man's face as he walks past an unsuspecting lady dressed in branded goods, see him expertly undo the zip on her handbag and pocket her tiny purse without her noticing.

I feel the coolness of the air conditioning, the bearable warmth each person exudes as they stride close enough to me, the dirt scrunch beneath my boot as I squirm on the spot, and the pressure of the piercing stare someone is directing at me.

I turn to my right, just slightly, to see who exactly it is that seems intent enough to look at me this intensely. I see a man, tall, dark, and handsome. He has his hands in his pockets of his jeans, just as I had mine in the pockets of my vest.

Our gazes connect, and in his eyes I see a new pathway alight.

A Space Where You and I Exist

Life is indeed a huge irony, made for a good laugh, or an entertaining parade at the point of our last breaths. Where one has naught but dirt, it becomes the very foundation in which bonds and relationships are formed. Where one has enough gold to last ten lifetimes, one many often find himself alone, shrouded with suspicion, and overridden with paranoia to the extent of asphyxiation.

Alas the question that befalls us is the matter of which path we choose to take, despite being trapped in undeniable circumstances.

What we make most out of what we have is what ultimately decides our fate. This leads me in turn to wonder what tonight may bring.

Under the cool spring breeze in the dark of the night, when the blossoming florals have decided on captivating slumber, the people stir in their beds expecting anything but such fallacy. The dread weighs heavily down on every person present, each second representing but another tick of time, counting down to the end of time immemorial.

Today is the day.

I rise with bullets of sweat rolling down my temple, heart thudding the lion's roar, and arms trembling beneath the thick sheets my wife had once made for me. The wolf's howl from a far distance confirms it, one of them have arrived, and they are not here for simple pleasantries.

A screeching voice propels me forward. "Asane!" I barely make it out of my futon without tripping over the sheets and my own feet. The invasion has occurred much sooner than expected.

I snatch my blades and armor, expertly fastening them onto their rightful places before I dash to my family's safety - my darling wife, and my beloved child.

Daisuke and Rihito fall in behind me as I rush to the kitchenette. "The northern gate has been breached." Rihito reports, his breaths coming in even and steady, but anyone who knew him as well as I did would recognise the slight hitch in his breath before he even began. "It is where they started. Our troops are dangerously outnumbered."

Daisuke starts, but a body flies into our view from the right, slamming into the wall and sliding down, eerily unmoving where he settled on the floor. I look up from the bloodied face of one of my dearest friends into stone cold, obsidian eyes that mirrored mine.

"Naga." I stare, silent, not a stutter, and at a loss for words. I never imagined this day would come - rather, I never wished to imagine it.

"Hisashi." My half-brother greets me. Now, more than ever, I wished for his old ignorance, his indifference, and his silent hostility. "I have come to take my rightful place." He announces, a wicked smile etched on his sharp features. For the first time, I notice the drops of blood splattered across the sleeve of his shirt and the right cheek of his face.

At this, Rihito starts forward, temper churning, teeth grinding. "You're speaking to the Emperor! Pay your respects!"

"Or else what?" Naga chuckles, scorning. "You'll kill me? Why don't you go ahead and try?"

Rihito attempts to make his first lunge but Daisuke leaps out after him, getting a hold of his shoulder and firmly keeping him in check. "Calm down." Daisuke chides softly, but his eyes are hard on his Emperor's traitorous sibling.

"Leave now and never return." I say, for I cannot stand another moment of this. The rusty stench of death - kills made to our kin by our own blood; this was uncalled for, and Father himself would never have stood for it.

"You have no right to tell me to leave my own home. I'm the real first-born son." He takes a few steps towards me and both Rihito and Daisuke unsheathe their blades, ready to defend their Lord. "You're just the first-born bastard, who happened to win in the game of favorites. So don't you tell me what to do."

He stops in his pacing when the tip of Daisuke's blade scratches the surface of his metal thick leather armor. Naga looks at Daisuke as if he's a disrupting fly that is of no other good but to squash, yet Daisuke does not waver.  "Not another step, young master." Rihito warns. "If you know what's good for you."

Naga disregards them. Instead, he reaches out with an empty hand towards me, palm facing upwards and fingers sprawled out. "Hand it over." He demands of me needlessly, for we both know I would give him anything in the world except for the very thing he wanted in this moment.

I say nothing and stare as my hand slowly slides to the side of my waist, where I had my katana hidden beneath my night cloak. "Leave us." I countered, just as needlessly.

"Your Lordship." Rihito does not move an inch, not until he is to be given a command.

"My wife. My child." I look to Daisuke, whose fire suddenly seemed to flicker. "How do they fare?"

He does not respond, and I already know. It is too late.

I feel my heart sink in my chest, heavy as it is, falling hard and deep down until it breaks into a million shards. Even with all the riches one can possibly imagine, and with a title befitting of it, I cannot protect the ones I love. I feel the instant despair and rage hit me like a tidal wave, and it wipes out any hesitation I have left.

"Did you do it?" I ask Naga, voice trembling with barely contained fury.

When Naga did not speak, Rihito prodded him with his blade. "Did you?"

Naga's eyes shift from Rihito's to mine, and in them I see no mercy, no regret, no loss for the lives he has taken. Such a man wanted to rule our nation. His reign would be the apocalypse if I let it.

"I did." Naga admits, lifting a brow, challenging. "Why, do you-"

Before he can finish, I have brought my blade up against him, but he evades, just in time. The edge of my blade takes a part of his hair from his head. He snickers and doubles back with his own twin blades. He is strong and quick, but I am just as formidable.

For a long time, all I can hear is the clashing sound of my blade against his, the few thumps and grunts of another man or woman falling to his or her death not too far away, and the sound of Naga's wretched laughter. It does not end. He has been driven mad.

And so have I, it seems, when a sharp pain wedges its way between my ribs and twists and turns until the pain becomes so overwhelming that I cease midair and fall to the floor writhing in it. I lose my grip on the katana and instead clutch the end of the blade protruding from my torso, fervently wishing this moment undone.

I muster the last of my strength and reach behind me to tear the blade out of my body. I feel my warm blood gushing out onto my garments, over my skin, and sealing its image in my mind. Everywhere I look, I see the colour red.

Finally, I make a last ditch effort to face the perpetrator of my untimely death. The simple twist of the neck was so excruciatingly painful I almost instantly regret having done so. I was rewarded with a face, one I had never so much as suspected since the beginning.

Rihito.

He does not miss a single beat, and with a swift swing, slices Daisuke's head clean off his shoulders. A merciful act of killing - with one blow. I feel myself sputtering blood from my mouth, my vision grows hazy at the edges and the cold suddenly feels much more chilling. Numbness overwhelms my sense of touch, I can barely feel a thing besides great disappointment, and even further appalled by the result of tonight's game of throne.

In Rihito's eyes, I see a flicker of remorse, and then I just know. He only did what he had to do to survive.

The sole of Naga's shoe dives into the side of my face and I choke, but little does Naga know I could barely feel any longer. "You should've surrendered when I gave you the chance." He remarks, appreciating his blood red victory tonight, painted by his own kin's blood.

"Goodbye, Hisashi. May you find your rightful place in the afterlife." The compression strengthens, and for the last second I envision my wife and child waiting for me. Only the veil between life and death separated us now. Perhaps this was a satisfactory end after all.

There would be war no more between the brothers. No more senseless fighting. Only peace, serenity, and love.