- Original post: http://ks.renai.us/viewtopic.php?f=52&t=7033#p123363
- The world is gone; I am one, and I am all. It’s like I’m back in the womb; darkness has taken my sight, taken my speech, taken my hearing. I can’t feel my arms, either. Or my legs. The darkness must have taken them, too. It’s surreal to be deprived of everything. Everything except my me. I guess you call that a soul. I dunno. I never was one for spiritual bullshit.
- I can’t remember anything. Where am I? Who am I? Is this real, or some kind of strange dream? I can’t tell. But it sure does sting. The pain is blinding. I must be injured. I want to scream. I can feel it echoing out of me, from deep down inside, but all I hear is silence. Terrible silence. Actually, not silence. Ringing. Everything is ringing.
- How did I end up like this? Did I die? Wait, it’s coming back. A landmine! There was a landmine! I stood on it, and… then what? I should have died, landmines kill people. But dead people don’t think. I don’t think they think, anyway. I wouldn’t know; I’ve never been dead before. So let’s say I’m still alive. But if I’m alive, I should be able to see, to hear, to feel. So, that must mean I’m asleep. Or in a coma.
- I have to wake up. If I wake up, I know I’ll be alive. There’s not much left of me right now, but if I wake up I’ll be able to figure out everything I don’t remember. Probably. Right. Wake up! Come on, me, open your eyes! Or something. Ugh, this is hopeless. Well, I guess now is a better time than ever to sell out my beliefs. Hey! God! Get up off your fat ass and wake me up! Come on… Please, God, wake me…
- It tingles. I feel stiff, like I haven’t moved in a long time. And… bound? Psh, nah. It must just be me waking up. Maybe. I still can’t see. Wait. It’s bright. Too bright. Okay, now it’s coming into focus.
- Oh, God, help me.
- Absolute horror. That’s all I see. There’s light, but Darkness still imprisons me. A different Darkness. Darkness personified. Evil personified. I know not her name, but I know she is the reason I’m here. Doubly so; I remember that I came here to kill her, and now she has me as her prisoner, tied to some machine and fed some clear liquid intravenously from a tube; probably a poison.
- She presses the barrel of a M1911 against my forehead, arm outstretched and eyes devoid of reason. I struggle against my restraints, to no avail. She smiles menacingly at me; a killer’s smile if ever I saw it. When she speaks, her voice chills me to the core.
- “You know who I am, don’t you?”
- It’s not a real question. She and I both know that I know who she is. I can’t remember her name, but I can remember what kind of person she is; the most despicable kind. I refuse to dignify her with a response. Instead, I scream with my eyes just how much I hate her.
- “What’s that, cat got your tongue? No matter, I know you know me. And I know that you must also realise that with me being here, the war is through. We have won.”
- The war! I remember now. Years ago, I told them it would happen. They didn’t listen, and they were vulnerable when war was declared. But I wasn’t. I was prepared. I formed a plan to reclaim what we had lost. I planned to kill her. And I failed.
- “Any last words, before I kill you?”
- You bet I do, you feminist bitch. I scream as loud as I can, hoping to drown out the sound of the gunshot.
- “My name is Kenji Setou, and I am the one sane man left in this insane w-”
- “One” is a song by Metallica.
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