Saturday.
I stood in front of the mirror, shirtless. I closely analyzed the defined muscles of my body, gained through years of ruthless training. A disconcerting feeling arose that their was something wrong in my reflection. I ignored it. Looking down, I noticed the scar that ran down from my right side, all the way to my left. It looked like it was made recently. It was an angry pink that contrasted against my skin. I ran a finger along it, wincing in pain at the ghost of pain which accompanied it. The scar still burned. I could still feel the mysterious gaze of Phi on me. She couldn't have known about this scar, could she? I thought back to the moment when I had gotten it. I was young. A newborn. I didn't suffer from "infantile amnesia" as people called it. I only had one memory of my baby days, a memory that I was sure I had no right recalling. My finger traced the scar, and suddenly, the bathroom dissolved. The cold tile under my feet gave way to shadowed walls, the air thick with the sound of thunder and broken glass...
***
I was crying. I was crying a lot. There was a blur of shadows and movement. Looming dark walls stood all around me. There were shouts. The rough voice of my father, the sweet voice of my mother. The sweet and seducing voice of a third person. Outside, the sound of rain thundering against the window drowned out my cries, only amplifying the sense of isolation I felt.
My father's voice shouted loudly, full of hatred and accusations. "You slut! Just leave!" The sounds of things being knocked over, of glass shattering, could be heard. A bolt of thunder slammed violently into the ground outside.
My mother was crying same as me. Her tears rolled down unto my small body as she held me close. Drops of warm tears that seared like heat began to fall unto my bare skin. my She seemed to shift, to move away, and for a brief second, I caught sight of the woman. Of her.
She was dressed up in a long black dress and a witches had. She had piercing gold eyes which glared down hatefully at my father. At me. Her dark imposing figure was slowly approaching as my father continued to shout, and rain continue to pound down roughly unto the house.
"You dare call me a slut?" Her words dripped with enough venom to kill a person. As she slowly approached, a bolt of lightning struck, creating a dark silhouette that would remain forever engrained in my memory. "You betray me, break my heart, twist my words, and choose this witch of all people, and you have the audacity to call me a slut!" Her voice raised in volume, beginning to boom louder than the thunder outside.
My father moved to stand in front of my mom, blocking her off from the women. The sound of her steps ceased. "And so, you come into my home? Threaten my family? Call my wife a witch? How hypocritical of you. For a moment, the image in front of me crystalized, and in perfect detail, I could see the women's face. In that moment, her expression twisted into one of pure disgust. The lines on her face bunched together, her eyes squinted, and her lips pulled back.
At that moment, she launched a magic attack. My father immediately pulled us behind him, preparing to take the blow for us. It was a noble act. An act I could never imagine my father actually doing now.
But the attack was not that easily thwarted. It twisted out of the way, weaving between my father and mother's arm. it slammed straight into my stomach, and my world became one of searing hot, burning pain.
"Maybe with this, you'll learn the consequences of your actions."
In the background, I could hear the soft sobs of my mother, and the sound of someone trying to console her. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw my father, holding me closely, like a parent worried about his child would. However, then was one error in this scene, and incongruity. Instead of the face of a worried parent my father wore an expression of fear. He seemed petrified.
"A failure. It's a failure."
***
I snapped myself out of the memory. My body was shaking a bit, and beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. Cold. It's cold in here. I suddenly register how cold it was inside of the bathroom. It didn't help that I was shirtless.
I took a step out of the room, and shakily put on a simple outfit. Black dress pants and a white shirt. I rolled up the sleeves of the shirt, my hands shaking all throughout the process. My breathing started to deepen considerably. Every breath felt like I was struggling to get even the bare minimum amount of air into my lungs. Every time I exhaled, my entire body seemed to shiver. Like it was going to collapse.
After I very slowly slipped on my shoes, I stood. The shaking in my hands had slowly grown worse over time. Nothing I did seemed to make it stop. I couldn't go out and face Kami like this, my hands vibrating. I took a seat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm down. However, shaking never left. My breathing never settled. In fact, it began to quicken.
It really is cold in here. The A.C. wasn't that high, was it?
The A.C. was off.
I let my hands rest on my lap. I began to seriously hope that they stopped shaking soon. However, my prayers weren't answered. The shaking continued to increase. Slowly, I brought my hands up and wrapped myself in a self-hug. My hands touched my bare skin, but instead of the warmth being transferred from my skin to my hands, my hands transferred the cold to my skin. Now my whole body seemed to shake.
Get a hold of yourself Raiden! Your useless piece of trash!
However, nothing could stop the shaking. It felt like my entire body had been covered in snow. It was cold. Oh, it was so cold.
Failure. It's a failure.
Maybe with this, you'll learn the consequences of your actions."
Failure. It's a failure.
Don't ever lose sight of that goal. Because should you ever do, you will lose sight of the only reason for your pitiful existence.
Failure. It's a failure.
"With everything that has happened, you can only be likened to a defect, a parasite. And yet you have the audacity, you possess the greed, the nerve to refer to me as your father? Compared to your sister, you are nothing but trash."
Failure. It's a failure.
You are despicable trash, not only for forgetting your mission, but also for letting Kami get hurt. For letting Kami cry. For letting the same thing that happened all those years ago happen again! The one thing that you vowed to stop! The one thing that you promised you would never, ever see again!
Failure. It's a failure.
If you can't help her mentally, if you can't even help her sort through her own thoughts, then do the only thing you can do. Forget yourself, forget your selfish desires. Lay down your body and your life in her defense. Do it for the princess. Because that's the only value that your worthless existence serves any more. Thats the only thing you can do. Because in everything else, you are completely, utterly, useless.
Failure. It's a failure. I'm a failure.
The words crashed through my head, and with each repetition of failure, I felt the temperature drop even more. Until I couldn't take it. None of my attempts to calm down were working. I did the only thing that I thought would help. I dug my hands into my skin, until they were deep enough to draw blood. The blood was war, it felt good. I began to scratch the sides, allowing more of the blood to draw down, to spread warmth over my body. Blood dripped unto the floor.
Your a failure. Never forget.
I continued to dig deeper into my skin, trying to engrave the words in. Print them deeper into my skin then the scar that was on my belly.
"You're a failure Raiden. Never forget that. Your only purpose now, is to protect Kami."
And as the blood spread warmth over my skin, I let myself drown in it. In failure. In purpose. In oblivion.