Down the rabbit hole ━━ c.shuntarō.

1. hell, and it's disciples

i. Before...
Ikeda Kyoufu was born to poison.

Some would say that it was burnt into her family name; a generational evil passed down from child to child. But Kyoufu swore that it wasn't just manifested in the blunt hand of her father, meeting her face with blind rage, or in her mother's barbed words. Slurred abuse that always fell short. That never quite hit the spot. Lacking.

Instead, Kyoufu liked to believe it ran through her blood. That, she herself, was cursed to misery. A genetic fault. Wretched DNA. So, all she could do was carry it. Wandering through life, despondent. Unsatisfied. God, so very unsatisfied.

A young nurse, no older than 20, had held her the day she was born. Her mother wasn't one for compassion. It wasn't a choice. She didn't have the gifts to love or be loved. Really, it wasn't her fault. Therefore, Kyoufu had been tossed to strangers. Left to feed off the pity of others.

Some things never really change.

"Strong heart." the nurse had mused.

Kyoufu didn't agree. When she pressed her hand against her chest now, despite the beats of ineluctable mortality, she couldn't help but think of it as stone. A rigid organ.

The love she'd lost to it's incapability had burrowed holes into her.

Before she could walk, she was already reduced to a wasted vessel. An empty, mean disaster of a girl.

But it wasn't purposeful. She was simply a child raised to anguish. She couldn't be blamed for her serrated nature. Her cutting gaze. Her lack of empathy, her lack of care, the volcanic, abrupt nature of her temper. She knew she was flawed, bad even, but never once did she blame herself for these adaptions.

Evolution always comes nasty to the abused.

...

ii. Guilt,...
Metallic on her tongue, the taste prevailed. Now, the blood was beginning to seep down her throat. She supposed it was better this way. When her nose had just started to bleed, she'd went to wipe it with her wrist, only to find herself flinching. The pain had a bite to it tonight. And oh, she was a state.

Still, there were bigger things to worry about.

Her boots were half-laced; she could feel them slipping against her ankle. Up. Down. Up. Down. They were driving her insane. She should've tightened them, however, she'd left the house with no intentions of running from the law.

Really. For the most part she was trying to behave.

It had only meant to be one drink at the bar to drown out the futility of life. But, one drink turns into stupid, drunken charisma. And then, suddenly, a pretty stranger is holding your hair back as you finish a line of coke in the bathroom.

Kyoufu could handle her substances. It's not that she was addicted, it's just that she couldn't help herself. As soon as she was outside, trapped in the lights and the bodies and the music, she was hedonistic. Utterly insatiable, chasing the next high.

She needed to feel whole, and this did the job well. Sure, if you opened her up, poured out her insides, you would find that she was utter charcoal. A fatal calamity. But, she needed this. Even if she was killing herself, she just needed the obsession.

The fight had began over a cigarette, no... misplaced cash. Well, something trivial. It was a fast disaster. Two women, trapped in the azure glow of a building's sign, grappling. Hands reaching out, trying to draw blood. The cold, damp floor below. The wind. Their shared intoxication. How invincible they both felt.