What is the point of anything? I ask myself this, hoping to find, deep within me, an answer. But there is nothing… nothing except despair. I hear water dripping somewhere in the dark confines of my cell, and it reminds me strangely of the blood which drips continuously from the wound in my side.

How long have I been here? I don’t think I can possibly remember. I can barely remember the details of that fateful day, though the scars of the battle are still fresh on my skin. All that comes to mind, with much stinging behind the eyes, is the memory of Ganon’s swords piercing my body. Every day, I ask myself why I didn’t die. I wonder why the Goddesses didn’t have mercy on my soul, for I now know that non-existence is preferable to a life of pain, regardless of what I thought on the day of my defeat.

Zelda was spared that day, but she has yet to rescue me from Ganon’s ensanguined clutches. I often question the reason behind this; but all I can think of is how, by failing to defeat Ganon, I also failed to save Hyrule. Perhaps I am now hated by all of Hyrule. Perhaps I always have been, though I tried my hardest to liberate them. I am nothing. I was just a pawn in Zelda’s grand scheme; I was just another life to be thrown away.

I glance down at the small nicks on my arms. The blood has long since dried to rust on my chalky skin. I am a failure in many ways. I could not take my own life even when I craved death. Mercy is indeed cruel thing.

The cell door opens with a scream on the cement floor. I cringe, but don’t look up. I do not need to see the face to identify the source of the long shadow flung upon me, nor do I want to. The face of my tormentor haunts me in dreams; the thought of looking into those hellish eyes in my waking hours is almost too much for me to bear.

"Pathetic child," he murmurs, slowly circling me. "You were once a Hero; now you are nothing. What shall I do with you? You know how I adore the look of suffering on your lovely face when I torture you…"

He lifts my chin with his hand, but I do not meet his eyes. The overpowering smell of sweat aggravates my senses, and I wonder how he can reek so badly when he does nothing but sit on his throne all day. I pull my chin away from him, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.

"You are quite the difficult one," he murmurs. "Perhaps this will smarten you up."

His hand shoots out and plunges into the wound in my abdomen. An anguished scream rips free from between my cracked lips. I feel his hand re-arranging my organs, and suddenly want to vomit. I groan and lean into him, no longer able to endure the pain. He rests his free hand on the back of my head, listening to me cry softly. Never have I experienceed such cruel and twisted treatment.

"Sweet, dear child," Ganondorf says in a mocking tone of voice. "Surely someone as mighty as you has no need for tears. Do not fear; one day, your suffering will end. Sometime, many years from this day… but for now, I will punish you for being so much trouble to me."

He tears his hand free from my insides. An agonized howl issues forth from my mouth. I curl up on the ground, blood fauceting from the newly opened wound in my side. Ganondorf snarls and kicks a bowl full of defiled water in my direction. It, along with the bits of dirt that were floating in it, splash into my face.

I make an effort to drink the water no matter how foul it might be, but I am too tired and in too much pain to succeed. I collapse on the floor, resting my head on the cool cement, my bloodstained hand outstretched. The door slams behind Ganondorf, leaving me in darkness. I again wonder where Zelda could be, and if she will ever come for me.

I know, deep down, that she has no reason to save me. I was unable to carry out her plans; I no longer exist to her. I exist to no one. I exist only to sate Ganondorf’s sadistic impulses. I was once a strong knight; I am now reduced to a frail ghost of a man. I have been so broken that none now remember me, and as a result, none can save me.

I am a failure. I was the chosen one, destined to deliver thousands of souls from Ganondorf’s evil reign. I was the only one who could have helped them…

Or was I?

What did I care if every one of those thousands of souls perished at Ganondorf’s hand? Those lives weren’t mine. Why was I the one who had to be responsible? Why did I not have the chance to choose my fate?

I had been plucked out of my bed one morning, completely innocent and unsuspecting, tossed into the throes of battle; I had been wounded. My innocence was gone. I had killed too many, and though those that I extinguished were monsters, my hands had been stained by their sinless blood.

I never chose to kill so many. I could not object to the Deku Tree’s wishes; I could not object to Zelda’s wishes; and I certainly could not object to the will of the goddesses. I realize at long last, with the sinking of my heart, that I had been used. Any man could have been chosen for such a grueling, fervent task, and yet it was I, a child.

This realization that I came to cut away another chunk of my already ravaged heart. Was everything a lie? Saria, Darunia, Impa… could it be possible that they really were not my friends? Had they used me too?

What is left for me now? My youth has been stolen from me by those I trusted most.

Where is the sense in everything? My supposed friends have turned their backs on me. I have done my absolute best to aid them in achieving peace in Hyrule, and this is how they return the favour? I am sure they are out there somewhere, safe as can be, planning their next moves. I know I am not part of their plans. Perhaps they have found another. The Master Sword has been taken from me; I am no longer their Hero.

But even heroes have their faults. I am not perfect, and nor have I ever claimed to be. I fought so hard, and for so long, that I crumbled when faced by Ganon’s sheer power. Zelda did nothing but watch when his great swords devastated my body. I had sacrificed so much…

I gave my freedom to them. They used me. Perhaps I knew this all along… perhaps it is the reason why I faltered when met by the one being they needed me to defeat. I yielded to his power, and now I am at his mercy. Death is the reward for all my hard work.

And I won’t deny that death is what I desire. The suffering is too much to bear. The hot, pearly tears that wash the grime from my cheeks are a testament to the savagery inflicted upon my devastated body. Death is the only deliverance I can hope for now. I pray for it every day, but it never comes. I endure, though I know not how. Any other man would have died, and I envy him, whoever he may be. I yearn to lie in the solace of Nayru’s arms, wherever she may be…

I only hope that one day, when Ganondorf is at long last gone from the land of Hyrule, Zelda will have the decency to tell others the tragic tale of the Hero who lost all. Perhaps it is too much of me to ask to be remembered. After all, none knew my name save Zelda, the Sages, and those in Kokiri Forest; and the Kokiris had no idea that I was the Hero of Time. Now I suppose they will never know.

My tale has gone on for too long. All that is left is to end it.

I reach out blindly with my left hand, and I touch a small, sharp piece of porcelain. It was part of an old water bowl that Ganondorf broke during a torture session. I kept one of the shards, thinking it might come in useful. And oh, was I right.

I sit up slowly. The blood is still flowing steadily, without cease, from the large gash in my side. I ignore it; it won’t matter much in a few minutes. I glance down at the scars on my arms. All those times, I had missed on purpose. This time my aim would be true.

I wonder momentarily what it is like to die. I hope it is not too painful, though nothing can be as painful as what I have gone through already. I close my eyes. My chin, as well as my hands, have started to tremble. Small, crystalline droplets seep out from under my closed eyelids, and I am powerless to stop them. I try to swallow, but the lump in my throat makes it quite difficult. This is the end.

Before I give myself a chance to change my mind, I quickly bring the jagged edge to my wrist and slash open the pure, white skin. I watch the blood spurt for a moment before slashing the other wrist as well. I stare, with increasingly blurring eyes, as my lifeblood flows from my body with each slowing beat of my heart. I drop the porcelain piece and lean back against the wall, my head reeling from the loss of plasma. Come tomorrow, I will be gone. Never will I see another of Hyrule’s beautiful, blazing sunsets. Never will I see the majestic trees of the Kokiri, or the sparkling waters of Lake Hyrule. I wonder for a moment whether I had done the right thing… and as my brain slowly goes numb, I wonder no more.

Author’s Notes 2: Augh, that was totally not heart-wrenching! I am so incompetent ;_; Okay, so like it or not, please review. And just so you know, I adore Link, and would never think of harming him except on this occasion.