Barely lucid. I traced the halls with withering presence.

What once shined. Mocked me. What once catered. Starved me. What once loved me. Burned me.

The halls were void.

The windows foggy as if they also rejected the task of reflecting my patheticness.

What, when did I get back here?

When did I-

Muscles your memory only seeks to destroy my mind.

I leaned on the peeling walls. My heart was shattering.

I could hear the crackle inside my chest.

Or was it my from ribcage after the brutal assault of the maid’s furious heel?

It hadn't changed.

I the little engine that had splintered into a torture device for my hands.

Blood was absorbed by the wood.

A single tear welled and finally plunged down my cheek.

The train. Did it love me? As I loved it?

Finally, something wasn't repulsed by me? If it could speak. Would it say it did?

More tears fell.

I crawled. Dirtying the floor. I wanted to see it.

The window.

I want to see out the window.

My blood smeared itself on the glass. As if it also wanted a way to escape my body.

Push. Push damn it!

The window hit with a vulture’s cry. Please.

Don't hate me too.

The cold wind wiped my tears.

Please.

Just once more.

Ah~

Home.

Only trees and a thick brush of foliage laid out.

Home.

Home is where you feel safe.

Home is love.

Home is comfort.

It's not just these woods.

All the rich fresh air of life that somehow brought power to my legs.

It was as if staring out at anything.

Became my home.

It didn't glare.

Or spit.

Though it did gift me with a butterfly or sparrow.

Maybe the occasional leaf.

Just staring at it felt like home.

Anything else felt like home.

This wasn't home.

None of this had love.

None of this had warmth.

All of it loved to harm me.

All of it wished me my death.

If this isn't home.

What is it then?

What is this place?

Hell.

I lived in hell.

I knew this. All along.

Because I had become a demon.

I’m no one in the place to judge.

I am not deserving of pity.

I deserve all of this.

Ah~

They’re coming now.

If only...

The hero is here.

Sword pointed and ready to plunge.

I stared one more longing glance at what I call home.

Despite never setting foot there.

I released the window sill.

And my legs lowered me to the floor as I continually grasped my little toy engine.

“.....you....evil....crimes.....end....”

I’m afraid I’ve spent so much time in my head I’ve gone deaf to others.

Also didn't help that I had that kick to the head.

But I could understand the basics of what he was saying.

“ Any last words?” For some reason that rang as clear as day.

Any last words.

No.

Pleas.

A simple plea only.

I’ll do all of this again. I’ll be a simple puppet. A slave. A tool.

I’ll suffer as many times as needed.

As I still manage to have such selfish desires.

Just once.

Let me have it.

My only real wish.

In exchange for this wretched life, this wretched soul.

Just this once. Then I shall kneel forever.

Please.

I know I am no one to deserve anything.

Just… an ounce of hope.

No redemption. I am not worthy.

This one time only is all I ask.

Feeling the cold damp blade of demise pressed deep into my throat.

“ Such a wretched life.”

My hoarse laughter scratched the inside of my throat.

I howled with tears making their down my sullen face. Off the walls and through the halls did my voice venture.

What a wretched life.

Ha! Ha ha! HA HA HA!

“ Such a wretched, wretched, wicked life!”

The sword vibrated. As if the person holding it… hesitated.

I waited as I knew the darkness would come. I stared for as long as I could.

All before that the dull sting hissed along my throat.

Cold.

I fell to the floor.

I beseech that my vision fade-

Too late. I saw the red ease its way from my body.

So even my own body found me distasteful.

So hilarious.

I clutched the little engine as hard as I could.

Death was cold. I entirely deserve it.

I truly was horrible. Because despite being surrounded by others. I’ve never felt so alone.

The feeling of lassitude overcame the burning sensation across my neck.

I knew the darkness was inevitable so I closed my eyes. It would be as natural as sleeping.

And so I fell asleep.

With that, so came the end.

The last thing I could hear.

Were the cheers.

The long-awaited Villain’s death had finally arrived.

.

.

.

.

Go away.

Too bright.

Wait, aren’t I supposed to be-

Oh yes. I’m awake.

I’m still sore from yesterday I suppose. I slept longer.

I raised my upper half from its comforting resting place. Ah.

Judging by the sharp crackle of my spine. I definitely overexerted myself.

I slid off my unmade sanctuary trying to decide whether to ignore my throbbing back or the blazing light through the curtains.

Gliding the tips of my fingers over my throat. I tried to lift away the strange phantom pain I had acquired this time.

I dreamt of it again. But after years of repeats, I was finally shown the end of the story forced into my mind.

Each night.

The visions of horror, blood, and atrocities.

All graphic. All seemingly my doing.

There are times where all I see are hands coming from what should be my torso.

Slowly, so slowly.

Grasping some haggard woman’s pale throat. Pushing my thumbs deep within the middle.

The laugh erupted from my lungs. As if it was funny.

It was disturbing to say the monumental least.

And there was always something worse.

Women. Children. Men.

No one was able to run. Across the borders, it was never safe. On the ocean, it was never safe. Underground it was never safe.

I questioned if I had been watching a rabid hunting dog in disguise and blood-hungry tongue.

I asked if who I watched really saw them as people. Of course, I got no answer.

The rich tapestry wove itself ever since I could remember. But back then it was all too vile that all I remember is waking up and racing to expel the rancidness that had flowed up through my esophagus.

My childhood was something I have mixed emotions about. Now I’d rather not think of it at all.

The story that seems to finally have met its end. Is based on the villain’s perspective.

I didn’t like the apparent main character. Dare I say loathe him. But seeing where he came from, and how he came to be. It was more as if I understood him. And maybe I would help him.

But it’s just a story.

That’s what I always say.

Hoping its true.

I’ve strangely gotten used to all the ghastly crimes I’ve been forced to witness.

But the same thing happened with the vegetables I didn’t like on my plate.

I’ve also gotten used to the effects brought to me in real life. Headaches, nausea, tolerance to things I would never have a tolerance to otherwise.

I rolled my shoulder trying to release the tension stored within.

I wonder if I can have normal dreams now.

What would those even be like?

How rude.

Without a knock, one of the head butlers walked in.

“Master Quinn, if you could be ever so kind, to politely grace the family with your splendid presence at the table. As the Master requests to speak with you.”

The man speaking is nothing but elegant in itself. So even when he so subtly does so. He can make the most blatant insult seem like nothing but perfection.

Though I have many theories and concepts of the story in my head.

I feel as if one is the most accurate of them all.

This dream and all the others. Are a warning of some sorts.

It could be a warning of what would happen if I decided to take that path in life.

Which won’t happen. Not at all. I’ll never think like the man in the story.

But I also feel that it’s how I should be acting.

However, I believe either way it wouldn’t be different.

“ Master Quinn?”

“I’ll be down soon.“

“…..”

“…..”

“…..”

“ Do you like staring at boys while they undress?”

“ I apologize-“

“ Leave.”

He went quiet and I could hear his eye twitch behind me.

He let out the rage he wish he could let out on me. By slamming the door so hard the birds on the window became stunned and fell to their demise.

I hope a few were able to fly away.

What was I saying?

Oh yes.

I feel that little would change if I myself were to change.

Because whether I am as pure as a newborn baby, or simply a spawn of evil.

Or indifferent all together.

I’ll still be treated the same.

As a dastardly. Horrific. Corrupt. No-good. Filthy. Vile. Lazy. Disgusting.

Villain.