"HAAH" I gasped, jerking upright from a dream that clung to me like a shroud. My breaths came in ragged bursts, each inhale a sharp reminder of the relentless cycle of despair I was trapped in. "This is never gonna end, is it?" I muttered, my hands tangling in my disheveled hair, pushing it back in a futile attempt to clear my mind. The familiar setting of the alleyway, where I had spent countless nights, offered no comfort.
The alleyway was my constant refuge, a grim sanctuary amidst the chaos of my life. It was here, amidst the grime and shadows, that I sought solace from a world that had always been unforgiving. Memories of relentless bullying and cold disregard from when I was younger still haunted me. It was only "Him"—the shadowy fragment of my own self—that had ever dared to offer me anything resembling hope.
He was always there, a relentless force urging me to fight, resist, and reach for something beyond the crushing weight of my existence. My mind was a storm, teetering on the brink of madness, and "He" only added to the tempest. My past was a haunting specter that never seemed to fade, but then again, who didn't carry such burdens?
"No use dwelling on more depressing matters. Time to get up," I told myself, struggling to muster the strength to face another day. I rose from the cold, unyielding ground and began to brush the dirt from my tattered clothes. But as I did, he appeared with a suddenness that defied reality. In an instant, he seized me and slammed me against the wall of the alleyway. The wall remained unmoved, a silent witness to my suffering, while every bit of the impact resonated painfully through my frail body.
His fiery red eyes bore into me, a fierce, almost manic intensity that spoke of profound anguish. His pupils quivered, reflecting a depth of hurt that seemed beyond comprehension. His raven-black hair and sharp, unyielding features intensified his imposing presence. He held me tightly by my clothes, his grip a painful reminder of the turmoil that bound us.
"I'm tired of this. How long until WE seek revenge?" His voice was raw, a tortured whisper echoing through the narrow space. A single blood tear traced a path down his cheek, an emblem of the shared suffering that had driven us to this point. His pain was so palpable that it almost made me falter, but I steeled myself against the wave of empathy threatening to consume me.
"Revenge? Revenge?" I mocked bitterly, my voice laced with a hollow resignation. "Revenge is a luxury only those who can achieve it can enjoy, and WE AREN'T CAPABLE! WE SLEEP IN AN ALLEYWAY!" My words were a desperate attempt to cling to a semblance of reason. I was about to continue, to drive home the futility of our situation, but he cut me off, his desperation palpable.
"WE WATCHED THEM DIE, PINNED, HELPLESS, PITTED AGAINST A WORLD THAT DIDN'T CARE! Do you think they'll rest easy, even if we don't avenge them? Will they rest knowing the life we're leading?"
His words struck me like a physical blow, forcing me to confront the raw truth of our situation. As I stared at his pained, trembling figure, his tears mixing with the blood of my own making, a surge of my own heartache overwhelmed me. Yet, I remained unmoved, a cold detachment settling over me.
"Heh… stupid," I sneered, my voice carrying a note of bitter resignation. I smacked his hands away, watching as his expression crumbled into one of profound defeat. He knelt, his head hanging low and shoulders slumped under the crushing weight of our shared sorrow. I walked in a slow circle around him, the weight of our conversation heavy on my shoulders.
"You want revenge, but we're too far gone. Once hailed as the youngest and most promising talent, our downfall has become a curse. We're hunted like prey, surveilled constantly." I stopped and looked at him, my gaze a mix of pity and frustration. "You want to change it? But there is no 'but.' There is no way out. I won't do it."
The realization that I wasn't going to change my mind seemed to settle in. His voice broke, a nearly inaudible whisper filled with a deep sadness. "Okay, but can we at least find peace? Can we start a new, healthier chapter of life?" His outstretched hand, trembling with hope and fear, seemed to offer the last vestige of possibility. I sighed, feeling the weight of my decision pressing heavily upon me.
"Fine," I conceded, reaching for his hand. But as my fingers neared his, the knife he had been holding shifted abruptly. Before I could react, he drove it into my chest. The searing pain was immediate and excruciating, a relentless reminder of the agony that had become my existence. I could feel the cold metal against my heart, each heartbeat a brutal jolt of suffering.
"Wha—what are you doing?" My voice was barely more than a whisper, my eyes locking onto his face. His smile, wide and unnerving, sent a chill down my spine. His red eyes glowed with an almost demonic intensity, their brightness growing as if to mock my final moments.
"What I have to," he replied, his voice cold and final.
The world around me began to collapse into darkness. The pain was overwhelming, yet amidst the agony, I felt a profound sadness. The faces of those we had lost—their laughter, their warmth—flashed before me, now nothing but distant, painful memories. Their absence was a gaping void, a cruel reminder of everything we had failed to protect.
In his eyes, I saw not just my own despair but a deep, shared sorrow. "It was never supposed to be like this," I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of finality. "We were supposed to find peace..."
He knelt beside me, tears streaming down his face, mingling with the blood and grime. "Peace was never an option for us," he murmured, his voice breaking. "We were doomed from the start. All we have left are the memories of those we couldn't save, those we failed."
As the darkness closed in and my consciousness began to fade, the final moments were a blur of pain and regret. I managed one last, trembling breath, my thoughts a final, aching plea to the void.
"For them... for all of them..."
And then, as the world dissolved into blackness, I knew our story—painful, incomplete, and forever haunting—would remain a somber echo in the shadows of what could have been.