----------------------------------
I wonder what my mother would think of me now.
I'm on my knees in some godforsaken back alley of this equally godforsaken city,staring down at my bloodstained hands and weeping uncontrollably.
I try to tell myself it's just the rain --and smirk inwardly at the irony of that logic -- but I know I'm bullshitting myself. I can feel the tears trickling down my face,so warm in comparison to the cold,unforgiving tears of the sky that pour down on me from above,soaking me thoroughly and washing all the makeup off my face,but not all the sins I carry in my heart.
Cold and unforgiving the rain is,indiscriminating of whom it punishes...just like me,huh? It's a suitable namesake. Cold,dark,and bleak,just like me.
Only thing is that it can give life as well,while I can only take it away. I can't do anything positive. I'm a killer. Killers can't love. The capacity to love was beaten out of me long ago. I'm the walking dead. Empty,soulless,heartless,emotionless. A mere shell of a living being,a mockery of life.
I'll wash the blood off,but I'll never feel clean. The stains will be gone from my body,but they'll remain on my mind. I'll still see them,though nobody else will.
Blood in the snow. So pretty,and yet so horrible...
Blankly,I look at the prone form of my target. He could very well have had a family,a wife,children,was someone's child...but now all he was was so much blood and meat. Throat ripped apart by my claws,laid completely open,their body covered with welts and gashes from my whip --I'd flogged him a good while before finally killing him,beast that I am-- eyes torn out,blood all over the walls,all over the ground...and I could hear myself *laughing* over the thunder,over the screams...I had *enjoyed* it. The exhiliration of the kill,the sight of spilled blood...
Another life smashed by someone who'd never really lived. Maybe I'm so brutal to my targets because I'm jealous..I've never had a real life. My employers never call for this kind of excess,after all. Only for the target's death.
It's just me. I'm jealous. I know I am. Jealous of everyone else who's had a chance at a happy life,one that I never got. Angry at the world because fate dealt me a bad hand. I'm taking out what *she* did to me on the world. It only proves I'm no better...
I'll wash the blood off,but I'll never really be clean.
<p>
<table><tr><td>

Feeling like I'm God,
With the world around me..
Can't you feel this pain?
Seething through my heart?
Screaming through my veins?"
-Smash Me,Erase Me-</td><td>
