Writing Little Boy

[Vicky]

[SIZE=1]I often write about a character called Sin and I kind of like this story. Chapter wise, they're relatively short (compared to what I normally do) and it's quite a gruesome story later on. It's about a lot of things, namely blood, abuse, crazy people, the social norm against the... not norm... hurting people and a boy called Sin. Better than it sounds. Later chapters are cooler than the first.

So, erm, yeah, it should be rated M for abuse, violence, druggies, sex... man, I wish the ratings still apply. Don't complain when you come across something nasty later on ;D. Comments welcome.[/size]

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[align=justify]Sin wasn?t a very nice boy; he was rapture and madness, a carcass that the devil himself would reject on the grounds of the boy?s sanity. Sin had lived for many, many years, walking through the crevice of time itself, on the cobblestones through the streets muttering quietly to his lonesome little ears. He was a troubled, lonely boy, who kept his head down as he walked and his mouth silent, hardly ever acknowledging the presence of another being. Sin was indeed rapture and madness.

He was a tall, lanky boy whose face looked sullen and dark. His hair was cut jagged in places and a black mess, never dyed or toyed with except for frantic cutting and ripping. He had brown eyes which were more like black holes and a face that always seemed to be somewhere in the shadows. For the vast majority of the time, Sin looked ill. Dark rings around his eyes, heavy cheekbones and a very, very thin figure. Still, he managed to be some kind of mysterious attraction to a lot of people, like an ugly moon with a bigger gravitational pull than its star-master.

At some point Sin recalled a ticking in his head. He couldn?t remember where it began and when it would end, just that it was now there. It was like schizophrenia for the clock-maker, always there, sometimes louder than usual, sometimes quieter. Often he found himself obeying it as if it was his master and blaming all the crazy, horrible things on the sound in his head. It was as much a part of him as an arm or a leg; only he wouldn?t miss it if it were cut from his nerves. He often wondered if the ticking was something to do with how he drew people in; his personality was nothing beyond blunt and horrible, so how did he have a solid set of friends and, even, a girl after him? It must have been his clock, ticking away to oblivion of insanity.

Sin couldn?t remember the occasion when he met this one girl he was lay next to. Her name was Jade, which seemed to fit perfectly with her looks ? all-around pretty, shining green eyes, high-lighted blonde hair and all the general attributes people wanted in a woman of her age. Of course it was somewhat unfortunate that she should end up with a guy who went by the name ?Sin?.

?So Jake was wonderin? in you wanted to come out tonight. I said I would, only if the drinks were on him.?

Sin looked at her out of the corner of his eye but gave no response. She was lay on her stomach, scratching the nail polish off her fingernails, talking and talking, all too constantly like she seemed to do every moment of her waking existence. He was slightly amused at the fact her voice seemed to move in time with the ticking in his head, and her heartbeat, and his heartbeat, some stuck waltz he supposed.

?And, yeah, why do they call you Sin, anyway? You neva? told me.?

Sin rolled his eyes. [I]Of course[/I] he never told her. What did she expect? A biography?

?Umm, I don?t know.? Sin replied with a shrug. ?They just do. Why do they call you Jade??

She laughed at him. ?Well because it was my mother?s middle name. Don?t tell me your father?s middle name was ?Sin?. That?d probably make you the son of the devil, right??

Sin propped himself up on his elbow and stared at her intently. ?So does Jade make you the daughter of a rock?? she squinted and shook her head. ?Exactly.?

?It?s just quite unusual, really. You neva? told me your real name ? or Jake, or Bass ? what kind of secret are you hidin???

Sin didn?t reply. He just stayed on his elbow and stared at her, somewhat lazy eyed in an attempt to show he wasn?t particularly interested in the conversation. With all fine women they didn?t see that look in his eye.

?Well, I don?t too much care about your name, jus? you.?

Sin narrowed his eyes at her.

?Yeah. Jus? you.?

She turned over on her side and propped herself on her elbow to mimic Sin, her free hand trailing down his chest. Sin watched her for a moment before looking down at her hand, travelling lightly up and down his skin, but invoking little to no response from the demon-man. He was always suspicious of people, Jade especially because of her unfathomed, unweaving adoration for him.

When she trailed her hand over his stomach and over the button of his pants, Sin took her by the wrist and flicked her hand away. He rolled over, exhaling through his nostrils.

?Don?t ruin it.? He snarled.

?Ruin what? You?ve been with me for a good month or so and you don?t do shit?? she muttered barely above a whisper.

?You?re too attached to the physical. Sex is stupid and makes people [I]look[/I] stupid, and I?m not too much of a fan of making an idiot out of myself.? He argued less than amiably.

?How many people have [I]you[/I] watched having sex, then??

He turned his head to her, lip twisting into a snarl. ?I don?t have to watch anyone to realise it?s a stupid obsession. I can name a dozen things more interesting than something as trivial as that.?

Jade sat up on the bed and folded her arms. ?Go on then.?

He thought about it for a moment and quickly dismissed the idea. He couldn?t tell [I]her[/I], not yet, anyway. He laughed slightly and shrugged his shoulders, closing his eyes to the soothing sound in his head.

?Well, you know,? he laughed.

?No. No I don?t.?

?Then maybe I?ll just show you, instead.? He murmured.

Her eyes lit up slightly (Sin saw from the corner of his eye) and he had to sit up to make his stance. He waved his hand at her and shook his head slightly.

?Not now.?

?What? Why??

??because I don?t [I]feel[/I] like doing [I]anything[/I].?

Jade sighed and watched him get up from the bed and walk over to a chair to receive his t-shirt. She would never win with him, in anything at all, on any occasion, on any day. It just didn?t happen. She dragged the covers over her and pulled her knees up to her chest trying to put on the sweetest look she could in hopes of gathering the slightest form of affection, attention or kindness from Sin. He glanced at her and let his hands drop to his side, his shoulders slumping.

?Look, Jade, I?m not that kind of guy. I don?t do flowers, I don?t do sweet romantic dinners, nor surprise gifts, loving deeds or selfless acts. I?m just not that kind of guy.? He told her leaning over the chair.

Her face dropped. ?So what kind of guy are you???

?I?m?? he paused, ??not [I]that[/I] kind.?

She lowered her head. ?It?s okay. I still like you.?

[I]Like.[/I] That?s why he couldn?t show her anything yet, not until she made the ultimate assumption that she loved him. Then it?d be all be okay, and she?d be his. He waved her goodbye and took his leave without another word, as he often did, and told her he?d see her tonight. Probably.

*

There was something odd about Sin, no doubt about it. Memories of his childhood were clouded with visions of his future; his veins burnt and hurt him so bad that, nearly every night, he felt the need to release some of the blood from his system. He was afraid he would hurt people ? and he knew he liked it ? so he spent his night time?s at a pub owned by a chubby ex-wrestler named Caputo, wherein Sin would dance inside a circle of hollering dogs and beat the living livestock out of his opponent.

He stood in a ring of men grunting and spitting out drunken slurs, Sin?s topless body glistened with beads of sweat and his black hair matted against his forehead. He punched his fist into his palm, carefully stepping in a circle around the American in front of him, twice his height, twice his muscle; but Sin was two times his intelligence, having twenty times this man?s pain tolerance, and twenty times the reflexes.

A bell rang in the dank bar, the cheers erupting violently into the air as the fight began. Sin was the first in, stepping forward quickly and lashing out with a violent jab, catching his opponent?s jaw and sending them sprawling back into the crowd with one single hit. Sin stepped back, allowing his guard to drop, a smug, arrogant look across his face. His opponent ran in, strong but not smart enough to beat rapture and madness.

There was something that clicked in Sin?s head at that moment in time; the ticking grew increasingly louder and his brain began to make all his motor functions dance around the rhythm. It caused a giant rift to appear in the fight, that being Sin was a God and his a opponent was simply the lesser little mortal.

And the fight went like this: Sin?s opponent would come forward in a fury of fist-a-chuffs, kicking and lashing, while Sin narrowly dodged each move with a large, demon grin on his face. Sin would move forward, each time carefully placing his blow and striking his opponent with omni potent force. His opponent fell to the ground often, barely standing back up, being pushed forward by the violent cheering crowd. Blood seeped from his nose and he began to lose teeth, weary now, and Sin would always come for him again, the blood on his knuckles confirming his madness.

When Sin?s opponent finally fell the fight wasn?t over. Sin came forward again, driving his boot into the man?s ribs, bending over and punching at his skull. Some gasped from the audience at such fowl play, but most cheered him on.

There was a grin across his face, a grin that told the world his name was Sin, and he was rapture and madness.

?You could?a left him. He was down fer the count; you could?a left ?im.?

Sin blinked, splashing water over his face. He rubbed at the mark under his left eye, from where his opponent just scraped his face, which was often unlikely.

?You made a load?a money t?day. I was impressed. You could make?a livin? outta this, you know, boxin? or somethin?.?

Sin blinked, running his hand through his thick black hair.

?You got anythin? planned for tonight then? Meet your friends or somet???

Sin shrugged. ?Meeting some friends soon.?

?How you gunna explain ?em cuts??

Sin turned his head to the annoyance that was present at the dark bathroom door. He narrowed his eyes at Caputo, a small, pseudo-business looking man with short and curly hair. Caputo, an ex-wrestler himself, seemed to be incredibly interested in Sin?s fighting ability, having no idea it was probably due to the rhythm inside his head. He gazed at the bar man from the corner of his eyes, still enthralled in washing the blood off his knuckles at the moment.

?Well, you keep comin? back, your money?s over there. Keep rollin? in the bucks kid.?

Sin snarled. ?I?m not a kid.?

?Oh, okay,? Caputo slapped his back, ?[I]man[/I].? He chuckled lightly.

Sin dipped his hands in the sink and watched the diluted blood slink away from his knuckles. The bar man shook his head and walked away, knowing not what to think of Sin. Sin watched from the corner of his eyes, always suspicious.

He collected his money from the side and shoved it in his pocket (whilst gathering up his coat and t-shirt). He had been doing this for as long as he had been with Jade, perhaps longer? if he didn?t he surely would have taken it out on her. And right now he didn?t know whether she deserved it or not.

A few of the low life spectators from the fight called Sin over to the bar as he walked out for a drink or cheered him away but Sin?s only response was lifting his hand to acknowledge their existence? barely.

He breathed in a massive gulp of the outside air when he stepped into the night, streets illuminated with the faintest hint of orange from the lights above. He closed his eyes, thankful that the ticking was quieter than ever after he had silenced a thirst, with only one more challenge left to do for the day ? meet Bass and Jake.

He placed his hands in his pocket and slumped his shoulder as he walked, staring at the ground and his shoes because he didn?t want to look up and make any kind of eye contact with the silly insignificances that filled the city.

Truth be told, he wasn?t looking forward to going out with Jake and Bass tonight. They were adults by age sake but children in their minds ? absolute freaks, Sin would argue.

Jake worked severely long hours in a retail park and didn?t sleep during the night ? he was a chronic nocturnal who slept during his breaks in work or whenever he had free time during the day. He was an unlucky human being because he was ginger, and quite small for his age, pale, freckled though quite original in his dress sense and personality.

Bass, on the other hand, had no job and no intentions of getting one. He used soap to keep his hair up in a messy Russell Brand-style, which used to be blond but rather looked like a mix of dirty blond and brown from the lack of washing. Bass had been wearing the same clothes for the past few years; whilst others would fashion rips into their jeans, Bass? were entirely due to old age and lack of care. Besides all that he was quite a sweet guy? which frankly sickened Sin.

He paused at a row of clubs and pubs down a long street of cobblestone beside the canal. There were a few men dotted outside with pints in their hands, most of them bald or with clean shaven heads (that being the ?fashion? nowadays Sin assumed). He looked around for any sign of Bass or Jake, feeling slightly annoyed when someone turned around and locked their eyes onto him.

?Hey! Hey Sin!?

Sin spun around but not in time to move out of the way of Bass. The gutter-scruff latched himself around Sin?s neck and embraced him in a manly, friendly hug, before drawing back with disgust.

?You?re all sweaty, where the hell you been at??

?With Jade, eh?? Jake encouraged nudging Bass. The two laughed and Sin sighed.

?No.?

?Hey what?s that mark under your eye -? Bass reached out to touch Sin but he snapped his arm away violently.

?Don?t touch me.?

?Whoa, reet, here?s me, not touchin?.? The boy held up his hands defensively and shook them. ?Anyway, we got one hell of a night planned. You up for it, Sinny??

Sin narrowed his eyes. ?Do I have much of a choice??

Jake clapped his arm around Sin?s shoulder and laughed into his ear, more daunting than anything Sin had ever experienced in his life and equally uncomfortable.

?Uhh, no, you don?t.?

Sin rolled his eyes.[/align]

[chibi-master]

Am I weird for starting to adore these kind of dark but awesome stories? Oh well. Anyway, I really like where this is going so far! Sin seems like an interesting character and I can't wait to find out more about why he's all depressed-ish!

[Vicky]

[size=1]Cheers m'dear =).[/size]

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[align=justify]Though memory was vague Sin could recall a time in his teenage years when he would consume unhealthy amounts of alcohol, drugs, and anything else he could gauge in his system. The reason was to drown out the horrid reality of the real world, to suppress the crap in his head. Nowadays, since he had found a grimmer, darker way to deal with it, he didn’t indulge in the party scene (he was more inclined to sit at home and do a line). It was a cheap shot to keep the mind entertained, stop you thinking too much… it was like television, media, illegal drugs, legal highs…

Jake nudged Sin in the ribs as they sat at the bar in a dimly lit establishment, buzzing with a variety of customers, UV lights and silly decorations to appeal to the ‘rave’ culture. Sin blinked and turned to Jake, who offered him a beverage.

“What is it?” Sin asked sniffing the rim.

“Jack Daniels and Coke.” Jake said with a massive grin across his pasty white face.

“Uh, fine.” Sin took a sip and savoured the flavour for a moment. “Where did Bass go?”

“Over there, with that girl.”

Sin turned his head to the corner of the room where Bass stood, hands in his pockets, talking to a girl with his sly tongue. If she wasn’t repulsed by his lack of care for his own appearance than he stood a chance, and if he stood a chance then he’d surely drag her in with his ‘winning’ personality. Most people liked that sort of thing.

“Is your idea of a ‘night out’ having me and you sat here while Casanova goes and tries it on with every breathing creature in a five mile radius?”

Jake blinked. “That’s a real long sentence, Sin.” He blinked again. “No, actually, I just thought we could catch up. You have to learn how to have fun, you know? Jade’d be all over you if you were a bit more laid back.”

Sin scoffed. “She already [I]is[/I].”

“Yeah, well, get a few of that down you, and hopefully you’ll be less uptight when she comes tonight.” Jake shrugged. “Though you’re still a jerk when you’re drunk.”

“And you’re still a flaky ginger twat,” replied Sin pointing his finger accusingly, “none of you are going to change me. Deal with it.”

“Yeah,” Jake rolled his eyes defensively, “I know. Remind me why we hang out with you again?”

“Some sick twisted obsession with the sick and twisted?”

“You give yourself too much credit.”

“Oh, no, not enough really.”

Jake laughed into his drink and decided not to bother carrying on this conversation. He drank his pint quickly, slick and cold down his throat, ordering another before asking Sin if he wanted another as well. Sin, in the ‘spirit’ of things, decided he wouldn’t mind being drunk for the night. He knocked down his drink and asked (or rather spat) at Jake to get another, which he did, all too willing to pay the bill.

There was something to be said about clubs around where Sin lived. They were always teeming with life, even if it were only a few dozen people; they were just great personalities to be on a night out with. Often Sin’s friends would find themselves enthralled with people’s antics and get to know everyone they came across in the clubs, but Sin… no, not him, he more over watched from a distance.

A joint cheer went up from the club members when the music switched from a mellow back beat to an intense acid house sound. A small grin crept on Sin’s sullen face and his fingertips tapped the beat of the music on the glass bar, lifting his mood slightly.

“You like this, huh?” Jake asked over the music.

“It’s music that moves through you. Makes you do stupid things. The kind of shit you stand up and dance to in your own little world, knocking into folks and not caring how stupid you look because you’ve got all these vibes going through you.” He turned his head to the crowd gathering on the floor. “See?”

Jake turned and saw a handful of people were dancing or simply moving to the sound of the music emitting from all around them, either drunk with alcohol or drunk with vibrations from the aristocratic sound they craved.

“You wanna get up and dance?” asked Jake in hope.

Sin thought about it for a moment while taking another swig of his drink. He considering the ticking in his head – a minor problem right now after the fight – and nodded somewhat hesitantly at Jake. Jake grinned and took him by the arm over to the mess of bodies on the tiled dance floor.

Bass decided to join them at that point with the girl he had been talking to – a fine number with a nice tan down her – with a drink in his hand, often spilling it over himself. Sin managed to stay on the other side of the floor.

Jake was really getting into it, mostly from Sin’s dancing. He danced like a white boy on crack, with a little bit of style of course, occasionally switching to this odd movement that made him seem like the god of fuck, or a classical-trained pole dancer. He got quite a few looks, bringing a smirk to his face.

Bass caught the sight of Sin from the other side of the room and smiled. He excused himself from the girl politely, promising he’d buy her a drink in a few moments, and stalked over to Sin, coming up behind the unsuspecting demon-boy.

“Where’d you learn ta dance?” Bass shouted above the music from behind Sin.

“You never heard? The Devil’s the real God of music, kid.”

“You’re not gettin’ into it properly, Sin,” Bass shouted into his ear from behind him, “here, let’m show ya.”

Bass threw himself into Sin with a violent merciless push and Sin, who wasn’t expecting that [I]at all[/I], collided into a rather ripped looking metro-man. He turned to Sin angrily and - something [I]else[/I] Sin wasn’t expecting - hit him.

Sin fell backwards from the hit into Bass’ arms. The dance floor stood still at the sight and Sin closed his eyes, a burning pain through his lip and jaw. He ran his tongue over his lip and tasted the warm, savouring metallic liquid of his own blood. Nice.

Bass tightened his grip on Sin in a bid to keep him from lashing out but it wasn’t enough. He ripped his arms out of Bass’ lock and launched forward – a maddening ticking returning inside his head – and hit the stupid looking bloke back with ferocity and agility. Sin didn’t give him a chance to react, nor a chance to fall to the ground, and continued laying punches into him while holding him up by the scruff of his collar. Some of the crowd came forward in a futile attempt to stop the fight but quickly backed away before they got too close, having never seen that level of violence from such a scrawny looking man before.

“That’s enough!”

Sin only barely registered the voice before he was tackled by an abysmal mass. Sin crashed on the floor in a terrible mess with a massive African bouncer on top of him, something even [I]Sin[/I] couldn’t shrug off. Before he got a chance to lick his wounds the bouncer hoisted Sin up by his shirt and dragged him towards the door.

“You’re barred mate!” he snarled whilst chucking Sin out onto the streets. Sin’s face hit the concrete hard, a small cut appearing on his cheekbone from the impact.

Well, that happened quite fast. He replied the events over in his head trying to figure out why he had failed to see the bouncer lurking away in the shadows, or why the faggot who attacked him wasn’t thrown out as well. Not that Sin was going to cry at the fact he had been picked on. No, not at all.

He breathed out of his nostrils against the ground and watched speckles of dusk fly from his line of breath. He could still hear that irritating, blasphemous sound in his head, which had returned due to his anger… and because of that punk-arse idiot Bass.

Not that it mattered, he wasn’t too bothered about being thrown out of a bar. Like it made any difference at all. He pulled himself up and looked at the bar, spitting in its general direction.

“Sin?”

Barely above a whisper, more like a startled cry, he didn’t have to look to know who it was. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked over at Jade, clad in a sparkling black dress, sparkling earrings, all that make up and all that crap that women seemed to revel in wearing on nights out.

“Hey Jade.” He muttered.

“My god, what happened? Are you -”

“Alright? Of course I’m alright.” He sighed. She came rushing over to him and placed his hand on his cheek, tracing the cut that seemed to have stretched into a gash through speech. “It’s nothing, really. I just got thrown out because Bass was being a two-bit sluggard.”

“Come on, sit down wit’ me.”

He was always amused by her dialect. No matter how fancy she dressed, acted or even [I]tried[/I] to talk it always broke through, making sure the world knew she was just as common as the next Joe.

She sat Sin down on a bench and tried to rub away the blood dripping from his cheek but he wouldn’t let her. He said he was fine, and he didn’t near her to mother him - she looked hurt and said she was only trying to help.

“Yeah, I know,” he told her, “you should just go and have a night out with them two.”

“I’d rather make sure you’re okay.”

Sin sighed in frustration. “Okay? If I weren’t okay I’d be withering on the floor like a child. I’m fine, Jade. Really.”

She shrugged. “I only care about you, is all.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll kick that bouncer in the nuts before the night is over.”

“Good girl.”

Sin looked down at the floor and then to her. She looked generally concerned about his well-being and… god, there it was again. That adoration for a monster. Sin didn’t understand it, really. He shook his head and looked away from her, speaking bluntly.

“You should really, really just go and see them. I’ll just go home.”

“Okay,” she muttered, “I don’t even get a kiss?”

Sin laughed. He ran his thumb over the side of her face and kissed her, quickly at first, but paused against her lips when he felt her trace her tongue over his cut. He drew back and blinked at her and she only held back a laugh.

“Taste kinda nice.”

His eyes darkened. No anger, no despise, just curiosity, and an idea that crept into his little demon brain. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her until he decided to give it a try because, frankly, he had little to nothing to lose.

“You’ll like this even better.”

Now when it came to getting his way and keeping them where he wanted them, Sin was an expert. He snapped his hand to the back of her head and kissed her again, fiercer this time, more violently than she anticipated. He bit down on her lip, hard, until she winced and tried to pull away (ridiculously pointless with his hand there). He dug his teeth in until he felt the faintest trickle of blood against his tongue and let her head go, to which she pulled back immediately.

“W-what the fuck was that?” she stammered quite startled but not (to his surprise) angry or afraid.

“Interesting, that’s what it was,” he replied taking a thumb to her lip and wiping some of the blood on his fingernail, “need to replace the blood I’ve lost.” He smirked and licked the blood off his thumb coolly. “See you tomorrow.”

Sin took his leave right then feeling more then proud of himself. Jade was blinking rapidly, hand to the cut, trying to figure out some kind of explanation behind his antics. It wasn’t like she was ever going to be able to figure one out.

*

In the darkened memory of his mind Sin could never recall an instant where he had everything. Never a moment wherein he lived in a beautiful house, never a day where he remember the sun, nor the gleeful freedom any child shared.

The only clean room he’d ever been in was Jade’s and people’s houses he’d robbed. That’s why his skanky motel room was his precious, precious home.

His room was small with a kitchen, a bathroom and a living space complete with his bed. The wallpaper was ripped off for the most part with pencil markings underneath from when Sin could be bothered putting coherent sentences together which, consequently, wasn’t very often. The carpet was originally blue but patches of it seemed to be dyed an earthy colour of red, bordering brown. Blood, of course.

He ignored the state of his living area and walked into the bathroom, switching the light on. It protested against him and barely gave him any light when it finally came on, just enough to see the smeared earthy red on the tiles and the mirror with a lengthy crack from the right corner. Sin stared at his reflection, lopsided smirk on his face.

“Hey boy,” he said to himself, “what happened to your face?” he chuckled.

Real people were afraid of scratches, bruises, blood, crazy people, reality, truth, disease, insanity, sin, and Sin. They cried from the smallest age at the sight of their own blood and weaknesses wishing they were something different or wishing that their nerve endings were burnt off so they couldn’t feel that little twinge of pain, but not Sin. No, actually, he found it quite interesting, and it went beyond the dictionary term of sado-masochism. It was something deeper, something horrible inside of him, something to do with the ticking, something to do with the shaded part of his past.

He leaned closer to the mirror and ran his fingertips over the leering lash on his cheek. Like a curious child he pulled down on the bottom skin below the gash trying to stretch it, feeling the skin sting and whimper at the touch. With a growl he placed his over hand atop the gash and pulled at the skin as well, tearing the cut open.

He blinked several times in acknowledgement and almost gratification when a small inkling of blood dripped down his face and onto his chin.

“That’s fucked up.” He whispered to his reflection, smiling nevertheless.

He turned on the taps and threw the water over his face to clean off the blood. When he looked back up, he saw his reflection smirking at him, even when he was sure he was not.

“What?” he asked suspiciously.

[I]“Oh please, don’t give me that.”[/I]

Sin snarled.

[I]“I don’t ever remember the day I turned into a creepy little boy. What the fuck happened? Where’s your demon side? Where’s the cruelty and the beast? I don’t ever remember the day, boyo.”[/I]

“I’m still cruel.” Sin argued, though not entirely sure whom he was arguing to nor why he was.

[I]“Because you cut your fuck-buddy’s lip? Because you go and beat the shit out of low-life scumbags and snap at your comrades?”[/I]

His reflection was grinning now, a kind of maddening look in his eyes. It was only then, when looking at those eyes, that Sin noticed the tint of red around the iris, more defined and distinguished than Sin’s brown eyes. Sin swallowed, hard, a fear and anxiety coursing through him that he hadn’t felt in decades. He tried to draw his eyes away but even then he knew that his reflection, a deadly representation of something wicked, was always going to be there. Looking. Thinking. Hating.

[I]“You know why that tick-tock never goes away? Because you’re not feeding it enough. It’s like a time bomb for your… err… demise. It’s ticking away because you don’t give it enough blood. That’s the real you, or rather me, telling you to hurry the fuck up and get to know me better. You have to listen, or else the ticking’ll get louder, and louder, and louder, until one day you’ll take a fine piece of glass to your eyes and slice through ‘em until you get to the brain. Understand me?”[/I]

Sin closed his eyes. “No. No I don’t. I’m not even listening.”

[I]“Of course you’re listening.”[/i] Chuckled the face in the mirror. [i]“You’ve been listening to me, if not subtly. The hate and the anger and that little spark of cruelty is me. The thing that holds you back is… you. Some twisted form of justice, I don’t know.”[/I]

“Fuck off.”

[I]“I’m not going to leave you. Not now, not ever. That’d just be cruel.”[/I] A laugh, a joke. [I]“C’mon, be realistic. You don’t really, really think you can actually fight this, do you?”[/I]

Siin snarled again. “I wasn’t aware I was fighting anything.”

[I]“If you weren’t fighting, you’d be running around punching holes in people’s faces. That bitch’d be dead and you, you dear Sin, wouldn’t have any friends at all. You honestly have no idea who you are; it’s buried beneath all the shit pile of memory core.”[/I]

“I said fuck off!”

He punched the mirror until it cracked and his knuckles nearly buckled under the pressure. His image was angry now (or perhaps that was his own face) but it wasn’t gone, so he punched it again, and again, until the glass shattered around his knuckles and sliced through his hand. He breathed against the pressure building up in his stomach, the anxiety turning into something wicked and nasty and not a clue what to do with himself except collapse in a pile on the floor amongst the shards of his shattered doppelganger hidden in the mirror.

Oh, now [I]this[/I] was fucked, he supposed.[/align]

[chibi-master]

[quote name='Vicky']?Some sick twisted obsession with the sick and twisted??[/QUOTE]

Best statement ever.

This is getting [I]very[/I] interesting...

[Vicky]

[size=1]Petite note: I will be continuing this, but that probably only matters to Chibi XD. I'm just juggling a novel and homework so I haven't had time to write it.

Anyone have anymore comments or critics while I'm grueling through the next installment?

Cheers for reading Chibi ^_^[/size]

[chibi-master]

I'll be waiting!:catgirl: And I'm pretty sure there are more people than me that enjoy this story! They were probably just too lazy to comment! We all are sometimes! GOOO, VICKY!!!:animesmil