Broken: Part Twelve “Persecution”

Broken: Part Twelve “Self-persecution”

6/19/00

By: Hikari

Notes: none.

*****

I’m back here. I have nowhere to go, with no one to help me. Absolutely NO ONE. This human world, filled with buildings and highways, cars and whatever other type of technology they can come-up with. The true earth has been hushed by the mindless stresses of livelihood. I don’t like it. I never have, and I don’t think I ever will. Given this, I am surprised to find myself amidst silence. What I had grown somewhat used to, was expunged and everything around was ‘dormant’ or frozen in space.

I wind in and out of automobiles, motorcycles, and even strolling pedestrians. The crows that were a flutter in the park I pass, were also suspended in mid-air. Ebony feathers that had come undone, levitated. Reaching up, my hand picks one of the soft quills. I rub the feather in between the joints of my fingers- the fine feel of the hairs practically melting into my touch. Bringing it to level with my face, my left hand fastening onto the other end, I bend the spine- snapping the quill in two. All spines to feathers, I know, are hollow. But when I had done this, dark dark blood –as dark as ink- dripped from the cavity. The blood splotched the white concrete, expanding far and surrounding where I stood. My hands… they feel warm and sticky. I raise them up. They are completely drenched in thick red.

“No… no…. NO MORE BLOOD ON MY HANDS!” My voice echoed into the void. Filled with disparity and rueful. Wary fingers drop the object, two halves falling- the sound of them coming to meet the asphalt arrive as a loud PANG. Piercing my ears, making them gush with bleeding. “Augh…”

Palms move to cover the sides of my head. As this happened, my jagan impulsively opened. The heat my third eye radiated burned straight through the ward on my brow. The eye beats hard- to the extent blood spurts from the minute slits of the unlocked lids. I sense the warmth of it river directly to my mouth- me inadvertently lapping at the spill. If all this were not enough, I begin to hear voices. They are taunting, ethereal, raspy, and swaying…

Come join us…

You know you have nothing here… come with us…

Death comes as equally as birth…Why not die now?

…You don’t belong in this place…

Those voices… they were haunting me… I made a dash to force them out of my mind. But I cannot. The voices were following me, plaguing me with their words. The sounds of them were as though the owners of the whispering had more than just one cord in their throat- mutated. I keep on running, running away from something that I couldn’t see- something that was inside of me. They won’t leave… They just won’t leave…

Who are you?

What is your name?

Is it Hiei? It’s Hiei isn’t it?

“SHUT UP!!!” I grasp harder onto my head- beads of sweat dripping from my wisps of hair that were threaded all over my stained fingers. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!!” I shake my head from side to side- perspiration gliding out into the air. “STOP!! STOP!! PLEASE STOP!!!”

Are you afraid Hiei?

You should be…

Who are you anyway?

Who is Hiei?

My feet continue to move, so quickly and so distraughtly- I felt my own soles burn from the friction. Letting go of my head, I bang on every single door. Metal, wooden, glass- every one of them… nothing missed. I wanted to hide, to escape… get away from these voices… They… were… hurting… me…

Who is Hiei?

Giving up on the doors, I try to shatter the windows to any shop, restaurant, and stand I could find. Throwing a strong blow at one- my hand bounces off the glass. It was as if my strike were a mere pat. I didn’t even fracture the clear sheet.

Who is Hiei?

Keep on running… I tell myself… Keep on running… Push them out of your head…

I run up cobblestone steps, my boots ‘clicking’ as I went. Reaching two enormous doors, handles dipped in white gold- I heave as much as I can. The doors actually opened, revealing an equally enormous housing- filled with pews and red carpeting filing all the way down to the front and center of the entire building. Moving on, I can’t run anymore. Instead, I limped slowly- exhausted and totally done in. There was no one here, and the whispering unexpectedly faded. This building… it’s so white and clean. The atmosphere was cool and at rest. The only disturbance made was my very own breathing; which huffed and coughed exasperatedly. Progressing to the front, I come face to face… with a large, towering… cross. A man, brutally scourged and wounded was nailed upon it. His head was adorn with horrible thorns- like a crown… I recognize this man. I’ve seen him before- in pictures and statues, books and paintings…

Climbing onto the alter, my grip wrinkling and ruining the fine purple cloth lain on top of it- my lips quiver as I proceed to yell out the question that I asked so many times before:

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!?!”

Tears prick my eyes, as slashes drive their way out of nowhere- all over my arms, legs, back, chest, and even face. I couldn’t keep my self from falling to my knees. My own blood was enveloping the whole of my body… It ran down from my limbs, sometimes spouting from underneath my nail beds- creating pools which were kept intact by the folds of the expensive material I kneeled on. No… not even like this I can hold myself up. Therefore, I am compelled to fall to my side and roll onto my back. My back… was clammy, and the residue of perspiration and my loss made me cling against the cold marble. The glimmering of sun that went through the stained glass skylight- projected a broken-up rainbow onto my face. My breathing… it slows… and I can faintly see through my half-closed lids.

Abruptly, hot thin liquid splashes against my dried lips. Struggling to increase my vision without blinding myself- I try to focus as more hot liquid- salty liquid- dollops into my mouth. As everything clears… it looks like it is raining inside the edifice. It wasn’t rain…however… it was tears. Water spilled forth from the statues- from the angels, the cross, eleven men, and one woman. The statues were set inside indentations in the highest points of the lengthened walls- all of them at the center where I lay battered.

“What do you want from me…? Why are you doing this to me… Can you not…” Without warning, my voice cracks. “Can you not… let me die?”

Great indescribable anguish rushes throughout my form, I am too tired to scream- so when my mouth opened nothing came out. The pain intensifies, very much like the feeling of being covered by leaches. Parts of me involuntarily jerk and twitch. I suck in, but the air that entered seemed to have clawed its way into my lungs- for blood was forced out orally. So much of it, my hair is dampened and face veiled. The scores on my backside deadened all feeling externally, but internally there was immense heat and sore. I have been whipped at every angle, enough to make my clothes entirely saturated.

The thick red would not desiccate. It was going to stay on me… forever and ever… it would never dry up and chip away…

My eyes close, and I begin to weep- softly this time. I clutch the fabric beneath me, as a means to level the grief. Then, a voice – in difference to the ones before: a very sweet and velvety voice- spoke into my ear. I know that I wasn’t hearing her in my mind, because the heat from her breath blew delicately… soothingly… against my ear.

“Mortal and deceived men, what are you doing? For what purpose are you living? Do you realize what it is to see God face to face, and to participate in his eternal glory and share his company? Of what are you thinking? Who has thus disturbed and fascinated your judgment? What will you seek, if once you have lost this true blessing and happiness, since there is no other? The labor is short, the reward is infinite glory, and the punishment is eternal…”