A Trio Of Tigers: Blood-arc Series, #1 - (BoyxBoyxBoyxBoy)

Chapter 7 - Starting To Unravel

The living are weak and feeble.

So easily swayed, so easily caught. We walk too unsteadily, but fall too quickly.

Weaknesses are many, where strengths are only little. Of this world, only the brave can see the horizon. But in all reality, that is not true - the horizon shows itself to everyone. Through thick, light will always be seen. And where tears show, you will surely find your way. This is the way - the way of unraveling. 

They alive lay underneath countless layers of exhaustion. Wrinkles crease and fold with every breath taken. Stains will develop in places unseen to the eye. Faith will be lost to those who still try their hardest. 

When life decides to snatch you away, it will do so mercilessly. 

And you will fall. You will fall prey to those who hate you, to those who love you and to those who don't know you. You will become a victim of your own head, thinking sick thoughts that belong to the devil and speaking words that cut through flesh. 

You can't see yourself from your surroundings, so you walk. You walk into a blindness of the heart and mind. So what if your soul belonged to you before?... Now, it belongs to nobody. As you grow, the days get more filthy. The sun seems to never show itself when you are awake, like it is punishing you for some crime you didn't commit. Well, what can you do? 

Pain is a result of this. Pain will consume you like an animal sick of will. 

It rages into your soul, flames licking your wounded parts till you become deaf to the dead. So powerful that it can break into your thick armour of strength. And after all this - all this slow torture building up inside you - you can do nothing but succumb to the poison of the mind. Now, when you move to speak, your body howls. When you walk, your heart aches under snapped ribs. As you talk to those shadows around you, you're merely drowning in your own blood. 

...But it is merely a cover.

Under all that hate and red hating violence, there is something pure inside. Yet, the layers have built up too far and too high for you to dig them back. Reclaiming yourself becomes a fantasy, only a pathetic dream in a pit of lost directions. You build up illusions that you are a lesser form of your previous self, torn by all these winds around you. 

You have lost. And once something is lost, it will never return again. But who is at fault?... Only you. 

You were too weak, too forgiving, too naive. Never again. 

Kill.

Vengeance.

Die.

I am not me anymore. I need to go back to before, I have to find my way back. A voice inside your head is begging for this, but you turn away. Two opposing forces battle inside your head, forever tearing that wound deeper and more ruthlessly. You're running through a forest without a way out of that barren field.

I hate, I destroy... I conform to my fate.

Things like these come almost as naturally as breathing. Thoughts like these poison your beliefs. Now, you've become this distorted sense of truth, following the hallucinations like a starved man. Stubbornness doesn't let go, pride holds on too tight. The hurt is never admitted and shame is washed over you so forcefully that you have no space to move.