Burning. My skin was always constantly burning these days. I couldn't hug my parents anymore because of the searing needles of fire that constantly pricked every single inch of my body. Hell, a simple HANDSHAKE had become too painful. Not that anyone should touch me, anyway. All of that, though...the heat, the fire, the pain...That was nothing.
I'd be glad if that's all there WAS. But it wasn't so simple. Nothing was simple anymore. And yet, he just couldn't understand that. Or rather, he refused to. He still had it stuck in his head that I was still that innocent, harmless little girl from his childhood.
Even though he knew about the prophecy, he still believed that I wasn't a threat. That I wasn't a monster. That I wasn't a walking apocalypse. That everything would somehow be okay. And seeing that he had so much hope when there was none, seeing how he could still look at me like we were children again...I think that hurt more than the burning of my skin ever could.
"I know what I want for my birthday," I said, suddenly. But my voice wasn't as cheerful as the implication of my sentence. My "birthday" wouldn't be happy occasion. For ANYONE. Unless...
"Oh yeah? And what's that, Angel?" He asked, with a look so warm and loving that I had hope that maybe...just maybe, he'd give me what I wanted. What I needed. What was best for himself and everyone else in the world.
I finally looked him in the eyes for the first time in months. And under the light of a moon that I hoped that I would never have the chance to destroy, I said,
"I want you to kill me."
· Sat Jan 25, 2014 @ 04:04am · 0 Comments