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heroslayerHe tells you that you die alone.
You don't want to believe him, and there are so many reasons why you shouldn't, but it's something about the way he says it. It's something in his eyes -- he looks at you like he pities you, despite the fact that you make no bones about what you are -- and it shakes you. You want so many things, so much that maybe it's blinded you, but you've never wanted that.
Not that it stops you. You get to a point where it hurts too much to think about or to where you convince yourself that he's lying, and you go about your merry way. You kill and steal until you barely remember what he told you, the whole thing just a bad dream even as you lie in a pool of your own blood on the sidewalk at Kirby Plaza. And when you survive that miraculously, you convince yourself you can't die, even though you don't have the cheerleader's power just yet.
You make quick work of fixing that; you die anyway in a hotel room far from home. It's only temporary -- it only ever is, anymore -- but you're left with the feeling that it could have been more permanent. Angela has the will and the way, having proved that by wrecking your life again and again, but if you want to get honest, it all comes down to the way the little Japanese bastard looked at you two years ago. Like he knew. Like the hammer's still poised to fall.
You try to throw yourself back into the old routine -- there's a veritable buffet of power waiting at the carnival you can dimly recall -- hoping to forget again, but it work. You go down when their barker attacks you because you want to. You go down because the bile still rises in the back of your throat whenever you think of your own death, and you don't need the comic book artist's precognition to know your own future for once.
If you keep at this, as much as you'd like to, you will die alone. And that, as you've learned from your close calls, bothers you more than anything.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 373
You don't want to believe him, and there are so many reasons why you shouldn't, but it's something about the way he says it. It's something in his eyes -- he looks at you like he pities you, despite the fact that you make no bones about what you are -- and it shakes you. You want so many things, so much that maybe it's blinded you, but you've never wanted that.
Not that it stops you. You get to a point where it hurts too much to think about or to where you convince yourself that he's lying, and you go about your merry way. You kill and steal until you barely remember what he told you, the whole thing just a bad dream even as you lie in a pool of your own blood on the sidewalk at Kirby Plaza. And when you survive that miraculously, you convince yourself you can't die, even though you don't have the cheerleader's power just yet.
You make quick work of fixing that; you die anyway in a hotel room far from home. It's only temporary -- it only ever is, anymore -- but you're left with the feeling that it could have been more permanent. Angela has the will and the way, having proved that by wrecking your life again and again, but if you want to get honest, it all comes down to the way the little Japanese bastard looked at you two years ago. Like he knew. Like the hammer's still poised to fall.
You try to throw yourself back into the old routine -- there's a veritable buffet of power waiting at the carnival you can dimly recall -- hoping to forget again, but it work. You go down when their barker attacks you because you want to. You go down because the bile still rises in the back of your throat whenever you think of your own death, and you don't need the comic book artist's precognition to know your own future for once.
If you keep at this, as much as you'd like to, you will die alone. And that, as you've learned from your close calls, bothers you more than anything.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 373
