FUCK IT ALL!!!!!!!

For once, I'm sick of this life destined for me. Ever since I dropped off from college, life hasn't gone better. Instead, it took a worse turns every second I stand the urge to kill myself down. Maybe dying isn't as bad as everyone had pictured, heck, I should give it a try. Who cares??! Fuck, NOBODY!! Now my ma refused to talk to me, and my siblings are generally avoiding me, it gets fucking disturbing. Maybe they're trying to disowned me?? Oh, what the fuck, gave me more reasons to just pummeled every being I met down streets. Drowning myself in a fit of liquor sounded like a very damn good idea right now. Sue me, I should drive and record my last moment on tape and send it to dear Ma, like Stan vid. On second thought, she wouldn't care as to search for my corpse after, let it rot and eaten by live creature down sea cuz being the problematic daughter of hers, whom lost her sanity (no doubt) just too much of a weight of mind and soul. She might planned it all out, y'know, driving me crazy by bending me to a degree I snapped into half, forcing me into college like a fat donkey to learn culture when she well knew I'm just wasting time and dad wages, period. Talk about family issue...
I'm just bound to relate with shit stuff like meeting with gayest being on earth, foster brother, who vowed to go through thick and thin of life with me with a word fake in the middle of it. With no actual purposes, we kept pretending like we cared for each other. How lovely.
The only thing that kept me with as much assurance as parents could, that this fucked up life of mine would eventually get better someday...believe or not, is a cancer sticks. Yes, cigarettes, a pack of it can keep my self-esteem in check for couple of hours. The only problem came from it is when I'm out of it, then I hafta get my ass out and spend another 5 dollar for another 20 beloved sticks. God bless Dunhill...
I'd write again if I get the chance. Ja~

Echoes (1)

It was simple. Killing was simple. Your first kill brings no difference than the others. It was fast, heartless and quiet. The world lost its voices when you shed someone’s blood on your hand, when you smeared them across your face and smells the tingly scent of blood. It was intoxicating. It gives you the adrenaline the moment you saw the soul passed through your eyes. People would smile, some would laugh about it. It wasn’t hard to claim one soul to another. Once you did it, you are in the depth of ruin.

Your pride is gone.

Your heart is gone.

Yer just getting empty.

“I’m sorry for your lost, child. But we have to go.” A woman stroked my head. I was too distracted to even notice her presence entirely. I kept staring at those graves, the graves of my family. It was five of them. Two were my parents, three were my brothers. They all died in a tragic way.

“Child, you have been standing here for two days. You must-“

“I can’t cry.” I murmured.

“Pardon?”

“My dad said to never cry…no matter what. I’m a big boy.”

“Oh, child…” she pulled me into a warm embrace. I was too little, young and small. I couldn’t understand most of adult’s words, nor their actions. So I can’t tell why she was sobbing. What saddens her? “You can cry now. You wouldn’t have any other chance to tear your grief away. So it’ alright now.”

And it rains the moment she said that. A tear look like a drop of water. A rain drops so many. And I couldn’t tell which when I felt the cold water dropped beneath my eyes. Am I crying? Or it’s just the rain covering my tainted soul.

Of what seems human to me, I screamed.

Do you remember how you became who you are now?

Do you remember how it felt to breathe without gasping with all your might?

You can’t take away my strength

Fix this broken veins

Nothing left to fight

Live free or let me die

~skillet~

CHAPTER 1 THE KILLER INSTINCT

26 July 2010, New York – Queens.

He tore his shirt open, threw it quickly inside the washing machine. He opens the shower and started cleaning himself. It was a mess; the dried blood covered most of his figure. He checked himself in the mirror, staring at the muddle he created. He rubbed his face with a towel and look up again. The blood was gone but it still smells. He scrunched up his nose in disgust. He may have killed so many men but the stench of blood never please him. He opened the drawer and took one of his perfumes, spraying it all over him.

Done.

He put a black shirt on, leather jacket and worn out jeans to head out again, carefully placing his gun inside the jacket and drove his bike with a speed that could kill.

“Yer late, Jackass.”

He rolled his eyes when he saw his acquaintance guarding the club entrance. Jabba, he knew nothing ‘bout the guy but enough to take notice of his presence. He parked his R1 at the side of the street and walks into the night club, passing through his associate which guards the door in the matter of ignoring him. He sat on the edge of the barstool and placed one order of whisky. He waited as the man appeared minutes after.

A man at the late 30 came into sight, wearing a white formal coat to display his wealth. The man smiles and threw his arms wide welcome “If it isn’t my favorite assassin, Key Vuoto. How are you today?”

“Cedarn Irk Herald, I supposed that’s yer real name.” He scoffed “Better than having to call ya Kid, cuz yer old man…”

Kid laughed and sat next to him without even asking. Key grunted at that. “My boy, ya just can’t quit with yer sarcasm…that’s what I like about ya.” He winked at Key, which only pissing him off further. “Ya settled with ‘her’?”

“I won’t be comin’ here, do I?” Key took another sip of the strong whiskey. It never was his taste, he hated booze. But he killed a woman today, a woman that had a child inside her. He wasn’t aware of it, until he stabbed the woman by her stomach, he could feel the lump on her, could feel the other soul in it. It was his first time to murder a child, with or without his intent. It made him felt sick. Getting dead drunk was his best choice to forget about it for awhile. So he waved at the young bartender for another “Keep it comin’.”

“Course sugar,” she smiles at him, swayed her hips away and returned with a bottle of whiskey. “Don’t get yerself in trouble with this honey.”

He ignored the woman's comment. He took the bottle from her and poured another shot in his cup while his upper-man watched him closely. Kid chuckles “Yer never such a big drunkard. What shit got in ya?”

“Shut up.” He didn’t need to explain why to his superior. He gave him this mission. A mission that held his only compassion, now they’re gone and he felt shit. He couldn’t do anything to save it. He became what he feared. Kid planned it all out, he must be. What was his reason to kill a woman that lived in a poor apartment, without a husband, without anything to be proud of? Just a child she held dear for a future. And now they’re dead, randomly victimized.

He killed them.

He was never the type to question. But he never knew Kid would stoop that low to make him bend at the same level. Kid knew about his exception, the only exception when it’s about killing. But Kid got so eager to help him out he even offered some ruthless job, not like he walked down road of nobles to be the judge what’s wrong and what’s right. But killing a kid just too much for a request. Of course he refused it but Kid got his way and he succeeded, today. He swore he would kill him someday sooner after he got what he wanted. The main reason he threw his life in this bottomless shit.

Kid lifted one eyebrow skeptically “What? It ain’t so bad now that they’re dead. Be co-“

“Ya wanna be cool bout this?” he slammed his glass down it cracks, staring back at those fiery blue eyes which filled with nothingness. “Ya just hafta pick one woman with a child she’s bearin’ out of many? She got nothin’ worth yer attention. She got nothin’ worth to be paid off.” He snarled. No one’s backing down and Kid just had to make it worse by cackling maniacally. He clutched his fist, having the urge to just punch the man into oblivious. But he restrained himself after thinking twice. “Fuck you.”

Kid patted him in the back “Relax… I got the money and first time always shits, I know. Just gotta get use to it, ne?”

“I ain’t gonna do shit like this.ever.again. I told ya ‘bout my terms, and ya just gotta throw it right into ma’ face.”

“There’s no difference in killin’ boy. Lives ain’t some game, ya took it from men or child people still judge ya in the same level.” He leaned down closer to Key and whispered to his ear “I gave ya money, ya just run by it, Key Vuoto.”

Key gritted his teeth to the point he swore it will break in half. “Just get the money ready.”

He missed the smirk plastered on his superior face as he took another shot of liquor down his throat. 

Yer loosin’ yerself child.

Yer becomin’ monster.

A monster that took everything from ya.

“Mommy, why are you crying?”

Mother looked at me with her bloodshot eyes. Her face bruised with purple color, getting maimed by her second husband few minutes ago wasn’t something she could hide from me. She stared long at me until I found my voice to speak.

“Mommy. You hurt?

She forced a smile and wipes her tears away with her trembling hands “No, baby. I’m okay.”

“Your face not pretty...anymore…” I scowled. “I don’t like it.”

“I know, but it will get better soon baby, don’t you worry.” She squats lower and bumped her forehead with mine, hugging me in the process. “Trust me baby. Trust me.”

“…Don’t leave me mom,”

No answer.

“Mom?”

Silence.

It consumes you, slowly.

“Mother!”

Echoes. The word repeated in the dark narrow room. He looked around; searching for something he didn’t quite sure.

Empty. Nothing.

“Hah..hah…shit!” he panted and smashed his fist into the drywall. Nightmares were getting worse, haunting him every single day. There’s no chance of getting proper sleep. He never sleeps more than three hours a day since he becomes a killer. Memories of the dead came to him. The men he killed, the men he tortured.

His sanity is in edge.

He ran his hands through his green locks and sighed, heavily. He rubbed the back of his neck like it burns there and got up from his bed slowly, still tired from his work. His body aches, screaming for a rest. But he couldn’t afford such luxury. The clock’s ticking, morning arrives like usual after few hours cleaning himself from the sweats and burns. For the record, he felt off this morning, terribly.

Bad karma.

His mug which made out of clay suddenly fractured at the side when he drank from it. It made no sense why considering how delicate he handled the mug. It was his favorite, carved his name on the surface too. Some beliefs think when such thing occurs, something bad is going to happen, soon. For a man which has no belief, killed men, women…child, and living his life with no actual purpose, small superstitious like this usual won’t bother. Now it did worries him, part of him wanted to postpone the mission he had for today.

Part of him thinks it’s just stupid.

So his self-worth won this round. He made a call and heads out, for a flight to Japan.

When you killed a man, yer killing yerself slowly.

Just like a bomb.

Tick tock,

Tick,

Tock.