Fan Fiction ❯ Prison Cell Confessions ❯ Tales ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Two figures sat in a small cell, both bathed in silver moonlight, streaming through the small window cut near the ceiling of the prison cell. Both were up far later than what the guards had neither liked nor allowed, talking in hushed whispers. Silhouetted against the faint light, they exchanged their stories. Their own unique, original tales. Tales of sorrow; high points, low points, depression, happiness, sadness, euphoria, and many emotions that have gone unfelt by those leading 'normal' lives. Stories that would haunt children; tales that would drive any other person to feel like they hadn't lived. Like their lives had gone so unfufilled, lacking action of any sort. More modest ones would gasp, and think it all absurd. Others may say they were making it up, although the solemn, serious look painting the face of one girl would only reassure that her epic was that of truth. Nothing exaggerated. Just raw, unedited, no-nonsense truth. She'd swear on her own blood everything was true. Those who didn't believe her at first could see it in the girl's eyes. The pain she felt still reflected there, and the happiness so freely spent showed as well. All the emotions previously felt, then buried beneath the surface were wrought up again; old scars reopened.
In a serious, yet calm and even tone, the younger of the two inmates spoke after her older inmate had finished her story. The only defining feature one could see silhouetted, her fox ears, twitching slightly at a small noise coming from somebody sleeping in a cell across from her own.

"Interesting. Although I must say parts of it seemed a bit exaggerated. But interesting, nonetheless. My tale will be more absurd. You may laugh. You may cry. You may think I'm the one exaggerating. But I kid you nothing. But I must warn you, you have a likely chance of being kept awake at night, thinking. I will have spread my sickness into your mind. All you will do is question, wonder, and wait. Wait to live, wait to die, wait for something more. Should I continue?"

"Of course. I've been the inmate of many waiting on death row, and not once have I turned down a story. I'm interested in hearing of you just as much as you were for me. I'll be a good audience."

"Thank you. Alright, where shall I start...there's so much...Hmm, the beginning. The very, absolute beginning."

The younger halfbreed looks sullen for a moment, choosing her words ever so carefully. She contemplates a moment, then in a fairly louder voice; calm, smooth, and even, she begins, speaking slowly, but with much care, as if the words took effort and patience to come out with. So much to remember; so much to share with this older woman. "Twenty-five years ago. Twenty-five short, yet seemingly long years ago I was brought into this world. For the record, I've always screwed everything up. Always. My birth was no exception. To save some time, I'll shorten this up a bit for you; just as I got my first breath in the Tokyo Medical Hospital at 6:06 PM with 6 minutes into the hour, my mother died. Just as the doctor extended his hands, protected by rubber gloves, to hold me up and do his doctorly deeds, my mother took her last breath, and slipped away from this world into the next. She gave her last breath so I might have mine. My father only spoke of this once later, and he told me a chill went through the room. And so she went; quietly after harsh labor. I can only imagine the stillness of it all. A pained, birthing mother's cries stifled by the suffocation of death. I can only imagine, though. I never knew my mother's care. And that's where my life went lacking. That was very likely the cause of me to be here tonight. Just how I screwed up another person's life. I did. Not you, nor the hundreds of others who have been here. Me. Kuroshi Akira Li."

Kuroshi cleared her throat quietly, mind racing as to what to say next. She wanted this to sink in slightly, but also so she could think about with what she would continue with. Her friend stared at her, nodding. It was apparant this woman thought Kuro's story would be cliche. But there was so much more to come. So many more strong, undead emotions that would be revealed. She had no idea. But she would. She would get it in her head. It would echo, and drive her insane, just as it had to Kuro for so many painful years.

"I'm sure you haven't screwed everything up. Don't exaggerate."

"You don't know me. I have. I controlled my own life. But let me continue."

Clearing her throat once more, she started in again on her tale; her own personal odyssey.

"I was never named that night. Nor the next. Nor the next after the next. In fact, I wasn't named until a week later. My father was crushed by the death of my mother. He and Nadesiko were deeply in love, or so he told me later. To commemorate my mother, he named me Nadia. Not Kuroshi. Not Kuro. Not even anything with a K in my name. I was known thenceforth, until I changed my name myself, as Nadia Akira. I don't quite remember what my father's last name was, because everybody always just called me Nadia. You are the only one to have been told this. Because I trust you. Because all the other people I told this tale to would've revealed this to others. But you won't. I digress, though."

Kuroshi's comrade nodded slightly. Still nothing but another cliche moviesque inmate story to her, Kuro could tell. She'd be shocked later. No worry. Even if she did think she was BSing her, it didn't matter. Kuroshi was set to be executed in a few days anyways. The only worry on her mind was where she could find a gun or knife to kill herself with. She wouldn't be disgraced by being taken out by the assholes who ran the world. She would leave with more dignity than that. She would make sure the guards saw her take her own life. Becasue SHE wanted to. Because she picked up the weapon with her own two hands and had control over her life, in her last moments. No government-funded bunch of imbeciles would inject her with foreign substances to suck her soul from her body. She, Kuroshi Akira Li would preserve her dignity, pride, and everything she'd worked for in her life to go out with style. Because she had control over something they did not.

"I grew up fairly normally. At least as far as I can remember. But when I was six, I recall that I had asked my father about my mother, and he started to freak. His sanity had been declining, I think, and just the reminder that he didn't have a wife anymore after trying to forget about it for so many years drove him over the edge. He pulled a knife out, and I remember screaming as I saw the look of no reasoning on his face, and trying to run. He stopped me quick though, and I struggled badly. I screamed and screamed, and I remember feeling the cool metal slide quickly over my writhing back, and the hot, almost burning rush of blood. I escaped after feeling the pain surge through my tiny, weak body and ran to my room. I was bawling badly, and I remember how my vision was so blurred by the tears. The constant stream running down my face, and then black. Sweet, sweet black. The pain slipping as I think I passed out on the floor. The stream still flowing as I opened my eyes to see my father looking down at me, looking remorseful, trying to clean away the blood. I wept. I wept as he picked me up and tucked me in for the night, and wept until I was drained. It was a peaceful night out, except the childish worries that kept echoing in my head. The newfound fear of my father. The feeling of insecurity and unknowing wonder. So many questions. So much knowledge I was lacking. The trauma it put on me was unrelentless. I remember it all so clearly. Like a movie, it plays with such clarity in my head, still. How much strain it put on my mentality is hard to fathom. Too much for such a small girl's mind to chew on, at the time."

And so she fell silent. A shiver runs down her back, and her usually medium-gray eyes turn dark, in sorrow. A knot rose in her throat, and the words wouldn't come anymore. Just how cold and uncaring her father was for that one moment in time had ruined her forever. How she had felt an undying flame of hatred for that cowardly man. How the scar in a shape of a wide X that spanned the entirety of her middle-back had always been a reminder of how stupid, how damned inhumane her own family was. How she came to fear her family. How she always felt the constant watching over her, and how things could've been different. The what-if's. The how-it-could've-beens, the maybe's, and the millions of questions.

"That's terrible, honey. Your own father turning against you, just a small child at the time, with a knife. That's horrible. And that's coming from a fellow murderer. But continue, please."

Kuro nodded. The story must continue. There were more painful memories than that minor thorn in her side. The knot in her throat subsided, leaving her with a river of more words to wash into yet another person's mind. She'd shared her tale with few, but those she had were usually left with nightmares. She often found herself staring across the mess hall at one who heard her tale, and they'd be bloodshot in the eyes, and shaking. Experiencing her own pain on themselves at night, when they were supposed to be at peace. Kuroshi's words were like ghosts; like spirits that got trapped in one's mind and haunted them forever.

"But that was only the beginning. The beginning of a string of misfortunes in my life. Only a minor thread that still hangs on. If you compare the rest of what I will tell you to that, you won't even wince at me, as a child, being neglected and abused...See, after that night, my father stayed away from me. He avoided me like I was something that would take revenge, although I was a child and still couldn't comprehend what happened the night he hurt me for the first time. Aiden declined slowly, slipping away from what was reality, into what he wanted the world to be. I wasn't apart of that world. In his mind, he was still young; he still had the love of his life, and he wasn't weighted down by the burden of me, a naive young girl. I don't think he ever wanted me. I think I was just a nuisance that came from careless sex. Anyways, I remember on my seventh birthday, I was with, what I thought to be, best friend down at the city's park. She casually asked me what happened to my mother. I didn't think every girl had a mother, since I grew up without one, and was made to believe she never existed after the night I was stabbed. So I told her I never had one. She laughed. She laughed straight into my face, while I stood there staring at her, not knowing that the joke was on me. After she had calmed down, she said very arrogantly, something to the extent of, 'Oh, you were serious. I get it. Your mom's dead. She probably killed herself with such a stupid kid. I don't blame her.' and I snapped. I went postal for the first time in my life. I grabbed her hair, and mashed her face into a cement bench, wild with anger and grief over such a terrible comment. I knocked her out quickly, and soon had blood staining my tiny white hands. I beat her face against the ground over and over, sobbing for my mother, myself, and for what I was doing. When I was pried away by sanity again, I looked at the girl's lifeless body and didn't know what had happened. I was afraid at what I had done, because I saw the blood on my hands and knew I had killed her. So I ran. I ran home. I ran the two and a half blocks home, wiping my hands on the grass of neighbor's lawns on my way so my father wouldn't ask, if he cared at all..."

And there, Kuroshi stopped again. She had been so sucked into telling her own story, she had been visualizing it clearly before her. How horrified she was to realize it wasn't her own blood staining her hands. The morbid thoughts running through her head. But now, she could feel reality again. The listener gaped, horrifyed at what she was hearing. Her mouth hung open in shock and surprise. She finally managed to choke out some words, however, carefully chosen.

"H...How could you...I mean...You were 7, for Christ's sake! So you've always been morbid and instable in the head...I mean...No offense...I just...Wow."
She nods, smirking in some amusement. For such a tough woman, Kuro expected a little less surprise out of her. "Indeed. I screw everything up, remember? And everything is screwed up about me. Ah, I can hear a guard coming down the hall. To bed. I'll tell you more tomorrow, I promise. Sweet dreams."

The last part she stated sarcastically, knowing the other probably wouldn't dream at all. She'd toss and turn with feverish nightmares, and horrifying visions. Of course, they wouldn't be as bad as they would after Kuro had told her everything. But they'd scare her. She practically guaranteed it.
"Night, hon. Remember where you left off."

"I will. Night."
Kuro's inmate climbed up to her bunk, and she could hear her trying to settle down, but continually changing positions. It'd already started. She smirked faintly, but soon found herself tearing up. She'd let her mind settle, and it's come up with visions of former friends and memories. It was a year ago she'd been caught beheading a police officer. From there, it all slid downhill and they found out she'd commited the hundreds, thousands even, of murders all over the city over a span of many years. She was in millions of newspapers. Many people came to visit her cell, just to be able to say they saw a big threat to their existance, and mankind in general, on death row. She felt like a caged animal. She was restless. They'd injected her with a substance that took her shifting abilities away. She cried herself to sleep often, missing horribly the people she'd come to know as family. She'd shaken violently, without alcohol or pills. Slowly slipped into a numb state. The black acid wouldn't eat into the bars of her cell. They'd electrified them, so if she even touched them, a shock would be released into her body.
She mourned for herself, for the people she would never see again, for the dignity she lost, and for herself. But that was the first five months. She'd been moved from cell to cell as her inmates were executed before her. She wove her tale into their minds until their final days, and then moved on. She was feared, yet loved at the same time for her story. Many wanted to say they heard the girl's tale and could still sleep at night, but none succeeded that.

"Hey. Halfbreed. Get to sleep! Tell your inmate to shut the fuck up too, she's waking up half the block with her tossing and turning."

Damn. The guard noticed the glinting of her eyes in the faint light. He'd heard Merit trying to get to sleep. Annoyed, she called back, "Tell her yourself, asshole, I don't owe you shit," and turned her back to the door so she faced the wall. The guard grunted and mumbled something, and moved on, uncaring.

Pigs. All of them. I miss so much what I had 2 years ago. I miss them all. I miss everything. Why do I cry, still, once in awhile? Why do I cry after every time I tell my tale? I've told it a thousand times, and yet I still weep for something I can't obtain now. I will be dead in a matter of days. What does it matter? Nobody at the White Rabbit ever saw me get caught. I bet they think I'm dead. But I'm not. I'm more alive than ever, but they're slowly killing me here, leaving me here in this fucking cell. I am so aware of my life, it scares me. It really scares me. I cry for it all. I cry for the good and bad. I cry for the memories. I cry for yesterday, today, tomorrow; the past, the present, the future. I want out. I don't belong here. I'm still needed, I can feel it. They're taking me before it's necessary. But I am immortal. My spirit will always haunt them. I will make sure they see me die by my own hand, if it is to be. God what I wouldn't give to at least give my final words to the White Rabbit. To take one last night and do what I used to do, for just one last time. I hate it all. Fuck.

Kuroshi let an acid tear slip down her cheek, as she had almost every night the week before. The requests for her story had subsided a bit until this night. They always made her relive the pain, and finally make her remember when she was caught. The fox chained up and the key demolished. The threat to life brought to justice. Slipping into a dazed state, the visions of red and blue flashing lights reentered her head.

It had started as any other night for Kuroshi. She'd woken up that morning in the cemetary, under the stone angel statue, a little groggy. She never slept. But the night before, her body had screamed for it. She only expected to doze for 15 minutes; her usual quota after so many weeks of staying up 24/7. But instead, it turned into hours. Hours of fitful slumber, painted with nightmares and cold sweats. Crying in her sleep. Mumbling words. Finally, she lifted her pasty-pale face to the sky; a medium-toned blue, streaked with rosy golds, and let her soft gray eyes flutter open to face the world. One more day. Just one more day she had to get through.
Dragging her body up, she looked around the cemetary, feeling restless. She felt disturbed somehow, and chilled. The day didn't feel like it would be right in some way. It wasn't going to be usual. Kuro lifted her short, too-slim body up off the slab of stone, and stretched her limbs carefully. Already clad in the day's outfit, a short black skirt the fell only just above the knee, dark gray tanktop, knee-high boots with fishnet stockings, and a long black trenchcoat, she stepped down from the statue, and picked up a long machete and magnum, and headed for the wrought iron gate, quietly observing the unusually beautiful morning. She guessed it was somewhere between 6 and 7 in the morning.
On her way out, she quietly closed the gate, something she never did. Usually she left it partially open; In fact, she always left it open. She didn't even realize the unusual action she subconsciencely performed. She just quietly entered the open street, and took to walking towards the city park. Perhaps she would sit there for a bit, thinking. Just thinking. Then she'd go and buy something from the 7-11 down the street, or go see if Kanth had anything to eat in his apartment. She'd have to see how much money she had left from her last house raid. Rounding the corner of 55th and Elm, she took the left and headed for Kanth's apartment. The park could wait. She was hungry now, and it was most likely Kanth would be up already. If not, she would help herself.
The small apartment complex quickly rose from the horizon, and she looked up at the somewhat dirty brick building, and let out a soft sigh, breath coming in a harshly contrasting puff of white, compared to the rest of the dead scenery. She drew her coat a bit tighter, and took a step up the first black iron step, the staircase letting out a low groan, as if the slightest addition of weight was too much for the old, worn-down steps to take. She continued up, as quietly as she could, but doesn't succeed much as the steps make too much noise. After a minute or so of noisy ascent, she finally reached Kanth's door, number 8 on the top-most level, the last one on the right. She knocked softly on the door, and pressed her ear to it after nobody came instantly, and could hear her adoptive little brother stirring on the couch, and getting up. She clicked the door open herself, and stepped inside.

"Hey. I see you're here earlier than usual. Usually it's not til about 9 or 10 til you give me a visit." The blue-haired cat boy grinned sleepily, hair falling into his face in a messy, yet natural fashion, and pulled on a plain gray shirt over his black boxers with white skulls on them. His trademark. His well-known clothing bit.

"Yeah. I was feeling a little odd this morning. Is anybody else here?" She knew that Kanth had a habit of inviting people over to his house to...well...I'm sure you know what for. Usually they didn't wake up unless somebody was too noisy downstairs, Kuro came over to talk or eat, or even on their own, late into the morning.

"No, I stayed home to sober up. I might go out tonight."

"Good. I want to talk. I just need to talk. Got any good, strong vodka on you, by chance?"

"No, I'm sorry. I could make some coffee or something for you, if you want. Caffeine helps for alcohol cravings. For me, anyways."

"Eh, no thanks. I don't need anything that bad. Got a donut or toast or something? I'm starved, but I'm broke."

"Yeah, I got some Pop-Tarts. Will that work?"

"Yup, that'll do fine. Anyways, I woke up this morning...I mean, not fifteen minutes after falling asleep, but I actually slept for a good eight hours..."

Kanth was busy cramming strawberry Pop-Tarts into the toaster, but looked over his shoulder at her, telltale shaggy blue hair barely revealing a pair of golden eyes. His soft tawny ears twitch a bit at this, and he lifts a brow in surprise. "You...slept? So how do you feel?"

"Odd. Disconnected. Just not me. Today feels different from every other day." Kuro looked solemn, seated on a folding chair, peering down at her own small, pale hands folded on the cluttered-up kitchen table.

"Hmm. What do you think will happen?" Kanth joined her, sitting across the table in the only other chair. He pushed some bills aside and leaned on one hand, looking intently into the face of his beloved adoptive older-sister figure, even if she refused to return the glance.

"I'm not sure. I don't think I should go out tonight, but I hate superstitions and 'those feelings', so to speak. So I think I will anyways. I can't stop what I'm doing just because I have silly 'feelings'. I'm no psychic."

"Perhaps for once you should listen to yourself. You have common sense and logic, Kuro, but you need to listen to your sixth sense. Often times, it will be right. And if not, better safe than sorry, no?"

"You're right, but when have I ever listened to that? I'm a logical person, you know that. I'm impulsive, wild, carefree. You know the deal. Why should I now?"

"Because you've already sensed, from the time you fell asleep last night, that something is wrong. You can't ignore that. Don't put yourself in a position you'll regret later."

"I have to. You can't teach an old fox new tricks. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I follow routine whenever possible. But Kanth...If something does happen tonight, and I'm not over here tomorrow morning, please come looking for me. Whenever you hear a police siren, follow it. Please. Don't do anything tonight, just stay outside with a scanner or something, and get the police channel up and if anything happens, go to the scene. Promise me." She lifted her eyes to meet her companions, and they were full of insecurity, uncertainty, and a hint of fear. It scared him. He'd never seen her this way. She'd always been fairly calm with herself, and confident. A chill ran down his back, and he nodded, giving his word he would.

"I promise."

"Thanks."

The poptarts had long since popped up in the toaster, and as Kanth was getting up to put them back in to warm up, Kuro stopped him.
"Don't. I'll just eat mine lukewarm. I want to go, I think."

"You don't have to leave...You can stay for awhile. You're always in a hurry to go somewhere, even though you have nowhere to go."

"Oh, but I do. Even nowhere is important to me. I need to get out. Thanks for letting me in." She grabbed her breakfast, one strawberry pastry, and did another out-of-the-ordinary action. She smiled. Genuinely. The one smile nobody had seen before. The contented, pure sign she had never bothered to give to anybody. Always a grin that wasn't fully heartfelt. Kanth returned the smile, giving his much-shorter sister a hug as she was on her way out the door.

"Kanth. You're getting Hallmark on me. Quit. I'll see ya later, maybe, kid."

"Heh, sorry. See ya later."

And with that, the halfbreed left, stepping out the door. She was headed for the uptown, munching softly on the Pop-Tart, silently contemplating her day. That night, she was planning to hit the 7-11, then a nightclub and blow it up. She ran the whole murder through her head, and by the time she found herself running away from the scene of the crime, she was at an old abandoned building she liked to come to and sit out on the front steps and watch the people go by. She seated herself on one of the middle steps, and leaned her head against the black-painted railing, and watched the morning rush as people were headed off to work. She wasn't. No work, no home, no family. Not that she minded. She just tended to the life she had, and nothing more.
The hours slowly slipped by. She found herself wandering here and there, seeing the people laugh together, enjoying each other's company, and those couples sharing affection as they passed her in the park. The guys who tried to approach her, curious of the pretty half-fox sitting by herself on the bench, but only got up and left, seeing as she wasn't interested in any of them. The most persistant man's conversation went a little like so:

Man seats himself on the bench, a little too close to Kuroshi. "It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?"

Kuro is annoyed at the lack of space between the two and tries to scoot away. "Sure, but it always goes away. Beauty is ephemeral."

Man looks at her, but ignores the last comment. "I'm (enter random John Doe name here)," and then expects Kuroshi to introduce herself.

Kuro falls silent, staring straight ahead at a dead oak tree, covered in frost and snow.

Man lifts a brow, thinking of something to say. "If I may ask, what's your name?"

Kuroshi lifts a brow herself, and glances over. "Why is it your business to know?"

Man thinks, "What a bitch!" and tries to maintain a friendly face. Woman = pretty, and pretty = a good screw. This man obviously hasn't been laid in a couple months. "I'm only curious, because...Well, you probably get a lot of this, but you're very pretty."

Kuroshi laughs inside her head and thinks "What a poor fool. You're right. I do get a lot of that. And none of those men are still living either." "Hmm. And do you ask every pretty girl you see for her name? One of these days one of those women will take you for a stalker or kidnapper and do something about your profound curiousity."

Man gapes. "A pretty woman AND intelligent? My god, I must be in heaven!" ... "Not normally. Only the exceptionally pretty ones." Man thinks he's very smooth. Man is so wrong.

Kuro is not amused. She lets a playful smirk cross her face, however. Lying was something she was amazingly good at. "Then why are you asking me? I may appear appealing on the outside, but you haven't seen anything but a skin-deep feature. For all you know...I could be a murderer." She let out a laugh, but little did the man know of the irony of that statement.

"Oh come now. I doubt that at this very moment, I'm talking to the famed Stadium Murderer. Whoever did that is still getting talked about, but I'm sure you knew that, right?"

"Hmm. I didn't know that. Now what makes you sure you're not?" A sly, yet evil grin crosses her face, eyes flashing bright silver, ears twitching, for effect.

Man goes slightly pale. "B-because I'm sure whoever killed all those people wasn't a woman."

Kuro frowns, now mad the man is sexist as well as stupid. "And why do you assume so?"

Man is now pale. Man stammers more. "B-b-because I...I don't think a woman could do that by herself. No...no offense or anything..."

"You've made the biggest mistake of your worthless life." And with that, the girl reveals her machete and sinks it quickly into the man's throat, twisting harshly. She springs up, and climbs up into the oak tree, springing out of it into the next, quietly escaping the scene as the man writhes grotesquely on the ground, blood pooling beneath his nearly-lifeless body.
And that was her excitement for the afternoon. She retreated to the cemetary, visiting various graves, and watching one family come to mourn a long-lost relative. She is oblivious to their pain, and instead perches in a tree above the grave, hidden in the foliage. She calls down to them in a faint voice, ghostly and weak, and makes them all weep bitterly. She grins sadistically at their pain, and waits for them to leave before leaping back down.

Seeing the sun finally give it's retreat, she drew her trench shut, and set out for the 7-11, oblivious to the lookout cars of the police hidden here and there. She hadn't picked up the sight nor sound of any onlookers, so had drawn her machete and a spoon, and entered the store casually. Just as she'd started to wrestle the blade down the cashier's throat, the police all busted in, and she stopped, staring in fear and horror. She gave a cry, and was quickly taken down kicking, biting, screaming, and waving her machete around wildly. Nobody saved her. Nobody was her hero that night. She was taken down, a threat to society bound up in handcuffs just as fast as the police had entered the door. She kicked and fought as they ruthlessly seized her weapons and pushed her in the back of a police car. She could hear her captor talking over the CB, informing every police unit in the city that he possibly had the famed Stadium Killer in his custody. She fell silent, and soon the tears fell. This was it. The feeling. The superstition.
Why hadn't she listened to her intuition? Why had she been so stupid? Why, why, why?
She wept and her tears ate into cloth seat. She tried to dissintegrate her handcuffs, but her arms were behind her back. She lay so still, as if dead, and stared sadly into the night, until she closed her eyes and images of everybody at the White Rabbit flooded into her vision. Then Kanth. Where was he? She had forgotten to look for his face as she was hauled away. But what she didn't know, is that he was there. He was screaming her name, trying to break through the crowd of people that had gathered, and continued calling it down the street, following the car on foot. He had been weeping too. She was caught.

Kuroshi snapped back from her flashback, and there she was. Not in a police car getting hauled away, and not in that 7-11. But back on death row. The tears has been constantly streaming from her eyes, at the shame she felt, the sorrow, everything. Old scars reopened again. Slowly, ever so slowly, she let herself fall back into a dark abyss known as sleep. She went peacefully, although she was sure she'd have a nightmare as always. Scars coming back in her sleep.

The next morning, she woke in a cold sweat, as usual. She stared at the cold gray bed above her, morning casting a bright golden glow on everything. She'd dreamt of her friends.

She was back at the White Rabbit, and Mindy came rushing up and asked her where she'd been for the past year. She looked really worried, and started talking like she thought Kuro had abandoned everybody. Kuro started to cry and was hugging Mindy. Mindy finally pushed her away, and made her explain everything. Kuro had explained everything, and Mindy got all sad, and tried to get everybody to come over and see Kuroshi, and reassure them that she was there, but everybody was too busy getting drunk, and it upset Mindy so much that she left. Then Kuro felt like everybody had forgotten about her, and she started to disappear, and she started to scream because she had finally gotten "home", but now nobody would even look at her, and she was disappearing forever, and she was screaming people's names over and over again, but not one could hear her. And that's hwere it faded to black.

As Kuro entered the mess hall, Merit came up next to her and gave Kuro a small, timid smile. Kuroshi's eyes were bloodshot, and she looked immensly depressed. The dream made her think more of the people she missed. She didn't return the gesture of friendliness, but rather got a bowl of what the cafeteria worker claimed to be chicken noodle soup, but it looked more like watered down dog piss with chunks of vomit floating ever-so-happy in it. She got angry, staring into this so-called food. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She was supposed to live happily ever after with all of her friends; Take care of Kanth, drink tons with Chain, be crazy with Mindy, learn things from Azrael, love Carrie to death...So many other people. So many other things. She eventually got so angry, she picked up her 'soup' and hurled it at a guard, standing up, a spoon clenched in one hand. She begins to shout, getting up on the table.
"You call this a prison? I CALL IT A FUCKING NUT HOUSE FOR ANIMALS. You treat us like shit, and you expect us to learn our lesson? No wonder so many fucking people have tried to escape this dump. You think I've learned my lesson? IF I COULD DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN, I WOULD, ASSHOLE! I would still have killed all those people. If I could change one thing, I'd make you sit in a fucking cell, get harassed by sex-driven pigs, AND EAT SHIT FOR EVERY FUCKING MEAL, EVERY FUCKING DAY OF YOUR PATHETIC LIFE!"
The guard hit by the soup quickly grabbed his nightstick and handcuffs, and tried to calm down Kuro, but she only leapt away from him, and grabbed random trays and threw food at him, grabbing spoons to use as weapons. She leapt upon him, and gouged into his throat with a spoon, eyes growing whiter and whiter. The guard had tried to hit her with his nightstick, but she wrestled it away from him after leaving the spoon stuck in his throat, and began to smash his face in, skull splitting cleanly under the thrashes. The blood splatterd up and showered her face, hands, and bright orange jumpsuit that barely fit her, since they couldn't find one small enough for her. Other inmates laughed and held off other guards rushing in to help as Kuro beat the souped guard mercilessly, until she felt him go limp, breathing subsiding. She ripped out the spoon, and tried to run for the door, but somebody had put the whole prison in lockdown. She swore, and flattened herself against the door, watching guards break through the riot and rush towards her. She gave up surprisingly easy, and was quickly carted into isolation, restrained by handcuffs.

In isolation, she was kept away from everybody else, the walls softly padded as if she were going to try and hurt herself. Well. She was. But only the night before her execution. She had three days. She hadn't even told Merit her whole tale. But that night, She heard a tapping on the door, and looked up to see the slot opened, and a set of familiar deep brown eyes peering in. Kuro gasps, and struggles to get up, only succeeding in falling foward into her stomach. A scratching sound emitted from the side of the door, and suddenly Merit came rushing in. The fourty-something woman with dark, but not african-american skin and deep brown, almost black hair as her telltale features. Kuro wriggled her way up into a sitting position, and Merit cries out, hugging Kuro a little too hard.
"The mess hall...That...was genius...Oh my god, I thought you'd been taken away or executed early, but here you are! Sylvia, the one across from our cell, told me they put you in isolation, and she told me how to break the lock...Oh god, we have to get you back to the cell so you can finish your story and so you don't die without me knowing."

The woman was talking a little fast, and Kuro tried wriggle out of her arms, laughing slightly. "Thanks, but I snapped was all. When I snap I do crazy things without thinking. The dog piss chicken noodle substitute made me angry. Yes, please get me out of these damned handcuff restraints so I can walk right."

"Gladly, honey. You know, nobody's ever had the balls...or boobs or ovaries or whatever in your case, to do that to a guard. The guards are afraid of you, you know. Especially after seeing you kill their buddy with a simple spoon. Everybody's talking about you. Your name is practically household." Merit laughed, quickly undoing Kuroshi's restraints, and she helped the girl up.

"Seriously? Sweet. I'm going out with a bang, then. Although I'll probably be fed through a straw from now on if we can't convince the guards that they let me out of isolation because I was considered stable. Let's get back, and quick."

"Yeah, let's. Sylvia said I only had about five minutes to get you out and back before the guard would make his usual rounds past our block."

"Fuck, then let's roll. I'll tell you more of my life when we get back and the guard has gone." Kuroshi grabbed Merit's hand and sprinted quietly down the hallway, taking only a minute to get to her opened cell. The electricity had been shut off, so she quickly got in and quietly put the door shut again, climbing onto her bunk, Merit getting to her's on top. As if on cue, right as Kuro pulled the blanket over her body, the guard walked slowly past, peering in. He didn't stay too long, and then Merit dropped down into Kuro's bunk, blanket wrapped over her shoulders.

"Tell me more now." She requested, in a somewhat loud whisper, eager to know more of her wily inmate.

"Fine. I left off at after I killed the little girl. My father had learned the next day of the dead girl down at the park, and questioned me about it. Somehow, I think he knew I did it. So he told me we were moving to the United States. That sort of relieved me and scared me at the same time. I would be in a place I didn't know anything about, and I had to learn a whole new language..."

"So your native tongue is Japanese, no?"

"Hai. Watashi wa Nihon-jin desu."

"Heh, I didn't understand a word of what you said, hon."

"Yes. I am Japanese. But anyways, the day we boarded the plane and headed for our new home, my father got down to my level, and looked me in the eyes, holding both of my hands so I wouldn't back away from him in fear. He apologized for everything. He made me think that he would change. He promised and swore on my mother's grave that things would be different. Of course, being young and naive, I forgave him. We both cried and hugged each other, then he held my hand as we both walked onto the plane and found our seats. He fufilled his promise the first few weeks we were in our new home. He treated me like his beloved only daughter, and took me places, showed me things, and gave me stuff. But then when he couldn't find a job, he grew neglegent again. He beat me profusely, and I was so helpless. I had to hide the bruises so adults wouldn't question why I had them. I was ashamed that my father treated me the way he did. But I still covered his rage with long sleeves and lies."

Kuroshi looked sorrowful again, soft gray eyes turned dark, mourning the fact she was too ignorant at the time to help herself. She just took it, cried for herself and her father, and hid the evidence. She was so sucked into her own lies she took the abuse and accepted it as a way of life.

"That's so sad. You were abused. That's really sad. Did you ever see the rest of your family?"

"On one occasion. The Christmas after my eighth birthday. I saw my only aunt alive. The rest had died for one reason or the other. I have no idea why. Then, my ninth birthday rolled around. My father had progressed into pushing me into various torture traps. He once forced me to drink an ammonia and Clorox mixture, which, as you know, is poisonous and fatal. Then once he replaced a bottle of water I had in my room with a bottle of rat poison. He'd try and drown me when I'd take a bath or go swimming. He'd try and suffocate me in my sleep. But every time he'd make me drink that poison, I'd always do it and live. I'd vomit up in his face, as my revenge. I'd always pull him under with me when he tried to drown me. I'd play dead when he tried to suffocate me. His sick games only drove me to want to survive more than ever. I played his games, and always came out with my life. I learned to hug death, but never embrace it too hard."

With this, she held her head high, as if proud to overcome such a thing. To ever have experienced such a sick, twisted thing and come out on top. Merit gaped, eyes wide in horror. She was speechless. It was obvious she was seeing this in her head, and was so haunted by it she couldn't speak. Kuroshi fell silent for a moment, thinking of her next words carefully, suddenly solemn and very, very serious.

"My ninth birthday, my father had started off my day by waking me up early. He said there was a meteor shower outside. We went outside, and I thought he was going to try and shove me off the roof, so I was very tense and wary of his every move. Instead, he was gentle. He spoke to me nicely, and after the beautiful shower had stopped, he took me into the kitchen and presented a breakfast of cereal, toast, and apple juice. I was afraid he poisoned the food, drugged it somehow, but I ate it. It was fine. All the mornings before I had to scrape up my own food before school, or while I was there, because he always locked the cupboards on purpose. He was trying to starve me, but it never worked. I was still very very cautious, thinking this was leading up to something horrible. Like he was giving me my final rites before shooting me or stabbing me. He took me to the zoo that day. We spent the afternoon looking at the animals, and the last one we saw was a fox. It was so pretty, it had a beautiful red coat, and was very gentle. Visitors could pay a dollar to go inside the cage and pet it, and have free access to the rest of the petting zoo thing. I begged my father to let me go in and pet it, because the instant I saw it, I was attached. I felt an emotional string bind us, and for a moment, I saw through the eyes of that fox, and I saw myself, a mere child clutching onto her daddy's hand, and I saw the bruises fading on my chubby arms and legs, and for a split second I was very aware of what he had done to me. But when I was back inside of my own body, I had lost that thought. Aiden paid the dollar, and I skipped into the cage and the fox leapt at my feet until I bent down and ran my fingers through it's short fur. I was so attached, I stood there for ten minutes, while my father patiently watched me bond with this animal. Finally, my father gently broke me away, and drove us both home, as it was growing close to the zoo's closing time. He told me to sit at the kitchen table when we got inside our house, then he came out with a nicely wrapped box. I very carefully tore off the paper, not used to presents for a few years. Usually as my father's form of a present, he didn't torture me badly, or at all, and lessened my chores, but I never got anything nice. My tiny fingers dug into the cardboard box hidden behind the pastel-rainbowy paper, and I pulled out a picture frame, with a photograph of my mother in it. I gasped, and clutched the frame, my knuckles white. I loved it. It wasn't much, but it meant a lot to me. My father smiled weakly, and began to talk freely, for once, of his love. I still remember what he said. He took the picture and set it on the table so we could both see it, and he began to explain to me about her.

'Nadia...This is your mother Nadesiko. She was so beautiful. Her and I met when I was visiting Hong Kong on vacation. I was 20. She was 18. When we first locked eyes, I remember feeling this buzz. This connection. I don't know if you'll understand this now, but perhaps when you're older. Just keep it in your mind. Perhaps you will feel that. But anyways, we introduced ourselves to each other, and we got to talking...She was so amazing. She was funny, smart, and very pretty. She was so perfect, and we both had such a respect for each other. Only a year later, we got married, and she had you a year after that. She was so young. Just as the doctor held you up for me to see, the whole room went silent. There was a chill that ran down my back, and the room got so cold. Just as I saw Nadesiko take her last breath, and her beautiful blue eyes close, you gave out a scream. Your first breath. Her last breath. Your scream was the only thing I heard, and I left the room. I let the doctors put you in the nursery. I went home and cried for your mother, and did nothing but that for the rest of the week. I finally got you from the hospital and named you after Nadesiko. You would've loved your mother, perhaps more than I do, if you would've ever grown up with her in your life. You remind me of her so much. I know I've hurt you in the past, never fufilled promises, and you have every right to hate me. But that's going to end tonight. Tonight and forever. I hope you can forgive me some day.'

And with that, he grabbed my hand and the picture, and lead me into the living room. He placed the picture on the mantle shelf above the fire, and suddenly pulled out a gun. I shrieked and tried to get away from him, but he held my hand fast. He leaned down, pointed the gun to the middle of my forehead, and right then, I thought it was over. I thought I'd never see another sunrise, another meteor shower, another day at the zoo, my next birthday...Nothing. But instead, he whispered loudly enough for me to hear.
'Tonight. Forever. Nadia, I'm sorry.'
I held my eyes shut tightly, and when I felt the cool barrel of the gun leave my head, I opened them in time to see my father looking down at me with the saddest expression, and then he pressured the trigger, and it was over. I became an orphan. Right before my eyes, I saw the blood spray out of the side of my father's head, and he hit the floor limply. I screamed, and grabbed his shoulders, still screaming. I stared down at him, and his eyes were still open, but they stared blankly. There was no more life in him. I sobbed and screamed for him to come back to me, because I didn't want to be alone, and suddenly I heard knocking on my door. I was afraid somebody was going to take me away from my father, so I ran. I did the only thing that came to mind and broke out a window and ran. My feet carried me to the zoo, the only place I felt comfort, and I hopped the fence into the fox's cage, falling down on a set of rocks, and scraping my knees badly. I didn't see the animal anywhere, and I bawled more, feeling that everything was dying on me that night. Like the world was abandoning me. Leaving me to die miserably."

Merit let a tear slip down her cheek. The story had grabbed her and taken her on an emotional ride, to the point it was overwhelming. She shared Kuroshi's emotions and took each word straight to heart. Kuroshi, for the briefest moment, felt the need to comfort her friend, but instead sat in silence, blanket pulled around herself tightly. She had relived everything in that moment, and almost felt like crying herself. But that was all done with. That was all long since over with; just an old scar leftover now.

Merit choked out some words, tears rolling down her cheeks at a rapid pace. "That...My God...Honey, I'm sorry. I can see why you chose to kill. The world had turned it's back..."

"It's fine. It's no longer something I spend time worrying about. Don't be sorry. I survived. I survived to see today. If that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have the pleasure of your friendship, no? And sure, the world turned it's back, but I turned my back on the world and came back with avengence. It's nothing to weep for anymore. I hated my father for turning his back with the world. I will never forgive him. Ever. I hope he's in some hell right now suffering badly. I hope he feels what I felt, only a thousand times worse."

Kuro's companion wiped away her tears, and regained her composure, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She finally nods, motioning for Kuro to continue.

"You know...I think I've told you too much at once. Get some rest, Merit, and I'll tell you more when you're not broken up like this."

"You're right, hon. Besides, it's late, and the new guard on duty will be coming by soon. Good night, Kuroshi."

"Night, Merit. I hope you sleep well." And this time, she meant it. She cared a lot about her inmate. She felt she could tell her anything, and they felt like sisters, although they had only known each other a few days. Kuroshi adjusted herself on her bunk after Merit left, to sleep on her side facing the door. She wanted to see the guard's reaction, seeing her back in her cell. Perhaps he would think nobody is safe with her out of isolation and not stop in front of her cell anymore. She didn't care if she was put in more trouble. Let it happen. What would they do? Kill her? Ha. What a joke.

As if on cue, the guard stopped in front of her cell, and peered in, hands wrapping around the bars. He looked friendly, somehow. Not like the gruff sexist fat pigs who usually ran the graveyard shift. He squinted in the dark, and upon seeing the girl looking back at him, hissed out in the dark, "Kuroshi Li?"
Kuro sat up. He knew her name. Not just "Hey girl" like she usually got. She carefully stepped out of her bed, bare feet quietly slapping against the concrete floor as she made her way to the bars to face the guard.

"That would be me."

"So you're her. The girl who killed Allen."

"Once again, that would be me. What business do you have interrogating me so?"

"I just wanted to see if you're as bitchy as the guards think you are."

"Charming. Well, I couldn't tell you. You have to make that judgement yourself. Aren't you going to send me back to isolation"

"Not yet. I want to know some things first. What are you on death row for? You don't seem like you'd be as bad as, say, the men on DR Block 2. Except for the mess hall incident."

"Incedent? Ha. Hardly. I wasn't about to settle for that dog piss shit they were serving. It made me angry. Sure, we all probably deserve to be here, but they could at least treat us as humans for our final days. I'm being executed in 2 days, after tonight. For mass murder. You may have heard of the infamous Stadium Murderer..."

The guard suddenly gaped, and about pissed himself in surprise. "You. You killed those hundreds of thousands of people. You...Oh god..."

Kuroshi remained calm, slapping her hand over the guy's mouth through the bars. "Shut up. Don't act so surprised. I had to go to somebody's prison. It just so happened to be yours. Sorry. If I had a choice, I wouldn't be here at all." The sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss.

He peeled her hand from his mouth, and gaped even further. "Wow. That takes a lot of stealth to be able to go all those years without being caught. I must say, if it weren't so inhumane, it would be fascinating and amazing. You worked alone all these years, ne?"

"Yes. I had some help planning the stadium massacre, but I pulled it off by myself. Everything else done was all me. As for being inhumane, I beg to differ. What's inhumane is the way mankind treats one another and the animal kingdom, and the earth in general. I had reason to kill. I was trying to get rid of those assholes doing me harm. I had friends who did it too. We all had a common goal."

"So there was more than one person out there killing off the city..."

"Yes. But I just happened to do it more frequently."

"That's amazing. And frightening, at the same time. Knowing there are more like you out there."

"Don't be afraid. There will always be a threat out there to your life. I was never afraid, so therefore I kept killing. And I kept getting away with it. I was afraid of nobody but one person I will not name, but I held respect for them, and so there was never a threat there. Fear accomplishes nothing. It keeps you away from living."

"You know, you're a lot different than I expected."

"You aren't hitting on me, are you? Because I know how to kill you, even from behind these bars."

"No. I'm just saying I expected you to be some quack woman who ripped off her husband's dick and stabbed him with it"

"Y'know, that saying is really becoming popular. My adoptive little brother says that a lot. He made it up and it grew pretty common."

The guard gaped more. "Kanth Machine?"

Kuroshi couldn't help but chuckle softly. So her annoying adopted little brother had been getting out more often. "Yes. Hey...Could you tell him some things for me, if you'll see him before my execution?"

"Certainatly. I see him all the time."

"Tell him I'm here. Alive. Tell him I love him a lot, and that I'm gonna miss him. And that I think about him and everybody tons, and to remember me. All that sentimental Hallmark-card shit. Tell him nobody's tried to cram their fist in certain places which will not be named, in the shower. He'll get a kick outta that. Then tell him to spread the word to the gang. He'll know what to do. It would mean a lot to me. Final rites, if you will."

"Of course. Because you seem like a pretty nice person, for a murderer."

Kuro grinned slightly. "Thanks. Say, could you do something else for me? This is huge. It could put your job on the line, but I would love you lots if you did."

"Yeah, shoot. Not literally."

"Mmkay. I need you to get the famed magnum of mine for me. Break into wherever they might be holding it. I'm not trying to escape, but I'm going to take my own life. If I'm to die, then I'm going to do it at my own hand. I won't be disgraced by the damned government all over again."

The guard stared at her for a moment, then nodded seriously. "I will."

Kuroshi smiled halfway, pleased he would cooperate, and reached out to touch his cheek softly, withdrawing it again after a second. "Thank you. This means so much. What's your name? I'll be sure to chip in a good word about you to the man upstairs, if he exists, and if I get to meet him before I'm sent via Express Mail to Hell."

The guard grinned, but twitched at the touch, as Kuroshi's hands were ice cold. They didn't conduct heat very well, but did have some, barely noticable heat. "David Gold. And you don't deserve to go to Hell. I've heard you telling your inmate about your past. I don't blame you for turning on humankind. Humankind turned on you. You have some really good points. I respect that."

Kuroshi nodded, still grinning. "Oh, but I do deserve to go to hell, David. Those Christains wouldn't want it any other way. Hell, I don't even believe in a god. And thanks. I love philosophy, even though I've never studied it. I've developed my own theories on things over the years."

David laughed, nodding. "You're right. Christains are a little confused. I believe in God, but to the extent that people who have no good reason for commiting a crime such as murder should go to hell, but those who do deserve the Eternal Reward and all that nonsense. How old are you, anyways?"

"Twenty-five."

"Ah. I'm thirty-one. I'm getting too old, I say."

"Nah, thirty-one isn't all that old. I feel real old. It seems like not too long ago I was just turning twenty. Besides, age is but a number and it's all in the way you feel. I still feel like a teenager."

"True. True again and again. Well, it's growing late, and my shift is almost over. It's been nice talking. I'll see what I can do about those requests, and I hope we'll get to talk again."

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, David. I hope so, as well."

"As you, Kuroshi. I'll be there at your execution, if you don't pull through with suicide. I'll be there, and I will tell everybody what a wonderful person you turned out to be."

"Thanks. Not necessary, but thanks. That's really sappy, but whatever's keeping you happy. Ah, damn, now I'm rhyming. There's something horribly wrong with me. Besides, if you can't get my baby...My magnum, I mean...I'll just get a spoon from the mess hall and kill myself that way. I have a thousand ways to kill myself lined up. But anyways..."

"Eh, I suppose this is where I take you back to isolation so neither you nor I get into any trouble." Switching to a gruff voice to mock those of the more 'crude' guards, he finished his sentence. "Get yer womanly arse back to isolation, biznitch!"

She laughed, twisting around to peer at her own ass, talking in a squeaky, western-accented voice. "I always thought I had a nice ass, ossifer...Thank ya'll fer noticin'!"

David laughed as well, opening the door for her, dropping the false voice. "Oh yes, it's lovely. It wouldn't get you far in the men's block though, because they've all turned gay over the years. That's only if you wanted to get far in the men's block, though"

She snickered, hitting his arm somewhat hard for his comments. "You can't make those remarks. I'm a murderer, remember? You can't hit on the inmates. Besides, why would I want any from any of those pigs? I could get some easily at the bar I used to visit."

Escorting her down the hallway, David snickered softly. "True...now hush, before anybody hears." Both fell quiet, making their way down the hall towards the isolation block. Kuro recognized her's, and broke away from the side of David to go forth and point out her door. David unlocked the door, and lead her back inside and recuffed her so she was as they had left her that day.

Kuroshi bade the guard farewell, and went to sleep. She went into slumber with ease, for once, and blank dreamt, meaning she slept so deeply she couldn't pick out and remember any one dream, as everybody dreams whether or not they realize it, with exceptions. When she woke up, she smiled at the dingy white ceiling and propped herself upright, for once in a decent mood. Perhaps it was the fact she slept peacefully. She was at ease with herself. Or perhaps it was her mind finally coming to rest that she couldn't change anything that was happening. That she, for once, was caged.
David entered her cell the next morning, face solemn. It was obvious he had some not-so-good news to break to his newfound friend. He knelt in front of the high-spirited girl, and looked directly into her eyes, and seeing the hope they held, he could only feel more guilt wrench his gut. He felt a knot rise in his throat, and forced a fake smile onto his face. "Morning, sunshine."
Kuro instantly saw through his face, frowning worriedly. "Drop the shit, David. Tell me what's the matter."

He frowned, sighing lightly. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Bad news, please."

"Merit...she...well..." David couldn't finish...He looked away from Kuroshi guiltily.

"No. They didn't. She told me she was being...Not til...Not til next week...She TOLD me...No...They couldn't have..."

"They did. They did, just an hour ago. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." He couldn't face the girl in shock. He closed his eyes in contemplation, wondering what other words he could say to console her.

Kuro felt the hot black acidic tears burn their way down her cheeks. She turned red, ashamed to be seen weeping, and turned her head to the side, silently grieving.

David felt a twinge in his chest, and sighed again. "She lied to you, Kuroshi. She told me to tell you she was sorry, too. She told you she'd be dying after you so if you two did become friends, you wouldn't feel like you'd be alone come your execution. She said she was sorry she couldn't be there to see you kill yourself. She really wanted to see you shock the guards..."

The girl snapped. The tears kept coming, only in a shakily calm voice, she commanded of the guard to take off her restraints. "David...take off my handcuffs. Please."

The man could only reluctantly comply, feeling wary as he took out the key and clicked the metal clasps over her wrists and ankles open. Kuroshi sprang up, walked briskly to the back wall of the isolation room, and beat her fists mercilessly against the hard rubber, blinded by her anger, sorrow, and tears. She swore and growled, cursing everything and everyone. She cursed every deity in the book, and continued to thrust her fists unstoppably agaist the wall. David could only stare sadly, as the girl released her hatred for the world against those walls. There was nothing he dared to do to stop her, as he went into the room unarmed. He had no idea just how dangerous she could be, so he remained in his sitting position, watching as soon enough, some sort of silver substance started to splatter against the dingy white wall.

"FUCK. DOES THE WORLD REALLY HATE ME THIS MUCH?" She cried out, sinking down to her knees, back turned to the guard. She leaned her head against the wall, and the curious silver substance descended from it's origin down towards her head.

"Not the whole world. Kuro...You need to realize that not everything and everyone is going to succumb to your liking...You should know that..."

Kuroshi, however, could only find more anger with this. "But does it always have to be so? Can't things, for just one second, be in my favor? I'm so tired of being the fucking scapegoat for this world to hit and abuse..."

"I'm sorry...You can't win 'em all..."

"BUT WHEN HAVE I WON? When have I EVER won? From the very fucking beginning I've been screwed over. From day fucking ONE. Tell me, when will I win at least one? When I die tomorrow? When I'm sent to be tortured because I lost without my consent all my life? When I will NEVER HAVE A CHANCE TO SPEAK TO MY FRIENDS FACE TO FACE EVER FUCKING AGAIN? Tell me, David. WHEN WILL I WIN?"

By now, the guard has sat back against the wall, and was staring at his hands folded in his lap as she screamed in anguish. "You haven't heard the good news yet..."

She didn't even turn to look at him, though. She just pushed the top of her head against the wall, letting her tears drip into her lap. "I can't see how anything could be good, at this point."

"Oh, but it can. I spoke to Kanth last night. I told him what you said. He was very inquisitive about where exactly you were in this prison. I told him directions on how to get to this cell, and he immediately said he had to go..."

Kuro still wept, pessimistically replying. "So? So what if he rounds up the others and tries to break me out? Can they do it before tomorrow? I'm fucking killing myself at midnight tomorrow. Do you have my gun?"

"Yes, I do. I forgot about that. I'm only giving it to you if you promise me you'll stop crying. Look on the bright side. If you die, how much worse can it get?"

"True...so true..." She could only mumble miserably, finding the acid eating away most of the bottom of her jumpsuit. The ugly fucking jumpsuit. Hopefully, if they did get to her before she terminated herself, they will have brought her a change of clothes. Or would she have time to change?

She finally picked herself up, turning slowly to face the guard. He eyed her acid-eaten jumpsuit warily, and motioned for her to come sit. She complied, and sat hugging her knees next to him. David set the gun in front of her, and nodded, satisfied.
"Y'know, not everybody and everything is against you. I think you're much stronger than what you're showing. You don't seem like the type to cry."

"I shouldn't be, but it seems I am. Maybe I've grown weaker since entering this hellhole. Maybe I can't deal with myself anymore. Maybe I do deserve this..."

"No. No you don't. I mean...You committed a crime, whether or not you admit it...You killed off hundreds of thousands of innocent people. But you had reason to. Look, I gotta go. I still have a job to do, and who knows what sort of shit will go around the prison if anybody sees me talking to the infamous murderer on death row."

And with that, David recuffed Kuroshi, and got up, heading for the door. He paused before opening it up, looking back at her. "Sorry." And with that, he left, rebolting the door, and leaving the girl in solitude again, to break solemnly.

The rest of the day rolled by slowly. Very painstakingly slow, to the point the girl was ready to scream again. She was left by herself mostly, just her and her mind. She came close to tears again, several times, reminded that this was her second-to-last full day, and she couldn't even have the last rights she wanted. She pondered often when David would return. She hadn't finished telling her tale to Merit, so perhaps since the kindly guard was listening in throughout her epic, he would be interested in the rest of her story. And that night, he did come. As the heavy metal locks were quietly clicked open as the girl sat in solemn, silent dark, Kuroshi found some light in knowing her newfound friend was returning. For once, something she could plan on. Something she could look foward to in the drab, lifeless day.

"Hey Killer...how's it going in this god-forsaken room?" David asked jokingly, obviously in a little lighter spirits than earlier.

Kuroshi grinned. She appreciated his attempt to be nice to her, especially when she tended to put up a cold wall to people like him. People she despised with everything. Maybe, just maybe if she got reborn as something, she would be friends with people like that. She wouldn't make the same mistakes as this life. But what exactly was so spiteful in light of what she chose? She had grown fond of murder, drinking, and her way of life. There was just rocks in her shoe she always knew of, even if others didn't. Perhaps if she could do it all over, she would make the same choices. She, after all, wouldn't have found the White Rabbit back in the middle of the city, had she had a good upbringing and raised to be the perfect Christain daughter.

"Hey...It's going...fine, I guess, if that's what you call slowly losing what precious sanity you have left in the rubber room. Yeah, then I guess I'm fine."

"Good. I'm glad to see you haven't shrunk to the lows of the other psychotic death row inmates. Say, I have a favor to ask..."

"A favor to ask from me? Well that's new. Alright, sure. I'll do what I can."

"Good. Tell me the rest of your story. I want to know the rest. I've stayed awake at night thinking what more you may have done in your life to land you in prison on death row with severe mental instability, yet such a charming personality. My, that sounded like I was hitting on you, now didn't it?"

The two companions laughed; Rather, one laughed and the other chuckled quietly. "I was going to ask if you wanted to hear the rest, anyways. And a charming personality? That's waaaay new. Usually I'm told I'm intelligent or strikingly beautiful or that I have a nice ass. Usually when somebody needs to get laid is when I get compliments. Thanks. Alright, seat yourself down, and I'll tell what's left."

David laughed again, sitting as requested to. "Nah, I'm not out to get laid. Not tonight, anyways."

Kuroshi let out a forced snicker, then shifted a bit in her restraints. "Ah, free my limbs first, if you could please. I can talk easier for longer if my arms aren't being twisted at an angle they shouldn't be."

"Ah yes, surely." And with that, he unhooked her arms and legs, and sat back down, a little ways in front of her. "Now enlighten me."

"And so I left you with the last haunting words of my father, as I recall. As I wept for the world in the zoo, I remember feeling so empty...So lost, like I suddenly didn't know who I was. I had lost everything in my life at that point, and although my father treated me terribly, it hurt me to see him take his life like that. At the same time, in the back of my mind I felt so free. So different, like things could change for me. And change they did. As I fell asleep that night, I dreamt of that fox. It's silly, really, how attached I was to the damn thing, but most little kids do love animals to death, so I suppose it was only natural. I can't tell you exactly what I dreamt, but when I awoke the next morning, as I got up from my place at the zoo and headed out before the park opened, I kept getting funny stares. As I made my way down the street to head for home, to see if it was all just a nightmare of mine, I began to wonder what was wrong with me. Perhaps they were wondering where my parents were. Well, not only did I not have any, I was going to see if I still had them. When I arrived home, I saw that the place was clean and free of blood. I'd guess in retrospect that the police had done their jobs and cleaned it up as fast as they could to cover it up. The police force was never that great to start with, so I doubt my father even got a second glance as they shipped him off to the morgue and got him a proper funeral. I checked the house high and low, and catching no signs of my father, I figured he'd gone out to drink. He'd always left me home alone to go drink whenever he felt the need, so I had gotten used to it. Well as I trudged upstairs to my room to lay down for awhile, I caught a glimpse of something in the mirror in the hallway. It was black; perhaps a dark gray, and it was perched on my head. As I took a double take, I nearly fainted to the floor. And there they were, a set of fox ears sprouting from my tiny child head. At first I just stared, but then I pinched myself to see if I was awake, then dropped to the floor in a faint. As I woke up a bit later, or perhaps it was a few hours later; I still don't know how much time passed, I looked in the mirror again, and there they were. It wasn't a dream, a hallucination, or a figment of my wild, childish imagination. They were there."

David gaped, first at her ears, and then to her face, to see if she was kidding. He'd somehow had a doubt in his mind they were real; they were always so still, so perfectly positioned amongst the raven-black hair...They always stood at a perfect point, never making a visible move. At least not when he had looked. "So...so they're real...Oh God, I always thought they were some fake thing you got implanted or something. I am so stupid...Geeze..."

Kuroshi, however, chuckled at his surprise. "Oh come on...Fake? That's lame. I would never do that. They are totally real." As if to prove her point, both ears wiggled playfully, all six piercings glinting faintly in the dull fluorescent lights overhead.

"But anyways, to cut down the length of time between improtant events, I left the house and grew up on the street. I was a regular homeless kid, stealing here and there, sneaking around and running away from the authorities...Yup, I was your stereotypical street kid. I was never a good theif; I was clumsy, awkward, and too loud when I tried to take things. I remember once just trying to cram a pint of orange juice into my coat, and I ended up having half the store turn and look at me. I walked out empty-handed, not because anybody busted me, but rather I was so embarassed at my stupidity. Another time, I tried to sneak into a movie, because I really wanted to know what they were, and not only was I caught thirty seconds into the movie, but it was because I was making too much noise up in the film projector's booth, trying to see out the little window. But somehow, I managed. I snitched small bits of things here and there, and quite obviously, I survived."

The guard, quiet as long as his companion spoke, was fairly amused at this. "Ha. So you weren't always a formidable girl with an uncanny sense for guile. Well, we all had to start somewhere."

"Oh come now...There are better theives and murders than me out there, even now. There always were. Don't make it sound like I was the best of the best, so to speak."

"Hmm, but still. You must be one of the best, no?"

"No. The others you just don't hear about. They're that clean with their work. My capture was bound to happen, it was just a matter of when and where. The others...It's very likely they will die uncaught. And I give them all the best, because I admire them. I studied one man for weeks because his killings were so stealthy. Finally it died down and stopped making the newspaper because right about that time I got caught, so I couldn't catch up on more ideas for my work anymore."

"True. Very True. But please continue."

"Very well. When I was maybe fifteen or sixteen, I started up killing people. It became life or death to me. My theiving skills were nonexistant, and I had grown progressively worse as I grew in physical size. I was no longer sort of clumsy, for lack of coordination and age, but because I was too big to sneak so easily, and just as clumsy as before, if not more. I picked up my first gun after finding it in a dumpster outside some fleabag bar. It was already loaded, and I quickly learned where to get more ammunition, and how to shoot it. But I knew very well the consequence of killing, so it took practice on my part before I dared take another person's life again. I shot pop cans, beer bottles, squirrels...anything I could destroy cleanly. Finally, the night came I was so hungry I forgot about how little I knew yet of killing people, that I went for the first house I saw. It was a cheap trailor, and the people were sleeping. My stomach seemed to growl loud enough to wake them, but it was only me. I pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, and crept so quietly into the house. I was so food-driven, I wasn't nervous at all. I simply opened the door and headed to the first door I saw inside. Luckily for me, the first door was the right one, and I saw a woman sleeping there. I loaded my gun so carefully, and put it to her temple. She was sleeping on her side, so it was easy to keep the gun aimed at the right point, and I simply pulled back on the trigger and she was gone. I then quickly checked the other rooms, and found a little boy. I didn't have the heart to take him too, and never had grown accustomed to killing children, so I left him. He looked too young to be able to rat me out anyways. So I looted the house. I didn't expect much, it being a trailor and all, but I remember getting an assortment of food and a hundred some dollars. As I fled the house to the safety of a small bit of woods, It was like I hit the right spot, the right niche in my life. That's what I knew I'd be doing from then on. It seemed too simple; too perfect to be true at first. But as I kept destroying people, it became more realistic to me that I no longer had a choice in the matter. That this newfound hobby controlled me because I had no other means of survival. So eventually I gained more and more skills at obliterating mankind, and I found new weapons and uses for them over the years. I became skilled with silverware; I knew, and still know how to disembowel someone with a simple spoon. I became skilled with a blade of sorts...Machetes being my favorite. And so that was what described me. I was a murderer, and that was all. To people who saw me on the streets, I was just some scruffy, faceless teenager wandering the streets. Sometimes I was taken for a whore, dressed as I was, and that somehow worked its way into my life."

And with that, she fell silent. She had needed to take a break from her tale for a moment to recollect herself, and bring her mind back to reality for a moment. She'd been lost in her story, seeing every scene come before her as if a movie, and relived it all over again. She knew she wouldn't change a thing. Not the thousands of innocent and not-so-innocent people she took from the face of the earth. The grief she caused families, the wondering, the fear, the feeling of not knowing when you would be the next one in the obituaries. Kuroshi didn't regret any of it, and didn't regret taking any of their lives. To her, they were all just a crowd of nameless, androgynous figures in a sea of humanity. If remorse was evident, she wouldn't have gone on so long. She wouldn't have kept going had she not been caught. She would be too remorseful to tell her tale to David, to Merit, to the other brave souls in the prison wanting to weather her story. To go on with their lives, however short or long, with troubles sleeping. Of course, there were worse tales than hers out there. She, herself, was yet another face in a sea of criminals, if that was the appropriate word for the people she admired and respected. But perhaps these ordinary people never thought they'd meet one of those morbid creatures. Perhaps none of them thought that the quiet, introverted halfbreed girl would be the carrier of such a haunting thing. Perhaps they couldn't fathom that there was, indeed, worse things in the world. Perhaps they were only human.

David couldn't speak. This was something for his mind to chew on. New information, new facts about the mysterious girl. Where to start to conceive this new enlightenment, where to begin to understand what she'd been through, what she was going through at the moment, and what she could've gone through. How others could be worse than this...It was simply too much to handle. He never believed that one person could do so many things in their life, and still have room to be worse. That there was worse than this. That these worse tales were still living within the city limits and beyond. That these people could still land in that very prison, and speak to him in the same way Kuroshi was. That there were so many people who could be relatively sane yet, like Kuroshi, and change his way of thinking, or perhaps even his whole life with a simple tale much greater than his own. How to percieve all this in the right way, in just some way at all, was a paradox in itself.

"And then the night that I felt the best. I had been taking drugs for so many years, I had tried everything and anything. I'd fallen to becoming a partial whore, and if I thought it would make me feel better, I put it into my system. Crack, cocaine, meth, cough syrup, acid, X, marijuana, cigarettes, asprin...I became a heavy drinker, too. I'm surprised I didn't kill myself after taking so many things. Often, a combination of two or more of those in one night. Alcohol became my best friend out of all of those, though. It was the easiest and cheapest to obtain, and I found an insatiable love for vodka. For the longest time, it was the only thing I could get, and I developed a taste for it that became a neurotic habit. Just another to add to the list. It was a year after I began doing those things regularly that I found that I was bipolar. I don't know if it was the things that happened over so many years, or if it was substance-influenced, but I was reading a book I found at the library one day that was a medical book of mental problems. I fit a lot of the symptoms of bipolarity, and decided it was evident in me. But anyways, the night I felt best was when I was desparate for a drink. I needed something cheap and easy to get. Something the bartender or distributor wouldn't card me for. It wasn't as if I had any ID anyways. The only evidence of my existance remains in the Tokyo Hosipital. Nothing more. So I found the first bar on the block I was walking through, and walked in. Immediately, I was overwhelmed by a sea of people, lights that could very well cause seizures in those faint of mind or health, and the stench of vomit, alcohol, and people in general. I approached the bar, finding an empty seat, and got a glass of alcohol. I hadn't spoken to people in so many years, that it was a surprise when one woman approached me and began to interrogate me of my name and such. I was withdrawn with information at first, leary of what I was giving out to this stranger, but soon grew to find out that there were, in fact, people in the world who were interested in somebody like me. An outcasted girl, who never had the desire for social reign in her life. I had no social skills to speak of, and I most likely came off as an awkward, bumbling moron at first. But as I learned more and more that those people were like me, shared the same crimes, likes, and dislikes, I became more open. And it was after that, that I wanted to change. I wanted to change for these people, because I no longer felt compelled to do the same things over and over every day. I wanted to fit in with them, and for once, I was thinking like a teenager. I worried what they thought of me at first, because I so badly wanted their companionship, and eventually I grew into myself, and learned how to show that. I became the Kuroshi Li I neglected to nurture before, and thereafter, I flourished and became more and more myself. It both hurt and helped me in the long run, but I'm happy it happened. A simple craving for a shot of alcohol made me change, if that puts it into perspective."

Old memories darted through her mind. Her eyes had grown to a soft gray, and there was a spark there that hadn't been ignited in the whole year she'd been captive in the prison. A spark that showed that there was still some of that left in her, that somewhere in the back of her mind, there was still hope of escaping. That the glass was neither half-full nor half-empty, but rather overflowing. A look of pure content washed over her pale face and she just sat, lost in the forgotten moments reborn. David, as well, shared some of that happiness in himself, seeing as this was one of her finer moments. He smiled gently, and looked to his hands folded in his lap.

"That's great. So it was one of your so-called annoying addictions that made you the happiest. It's amazing how somethings work out when we least expect them."

"Indeed, it is. And as I grew older, I became a better person with a different outlook. No longer did I wake up in back alleyways next to some guy covered in vomit, but I found myself a makeshift home in a loft above a liquor store, and grew there, as well. I kept all my old habits, but rather changed my ways of thinking. No longer was I focused on survival for it's own sake, but rather survival for the sake of living for others. I had a better grip on keeping my life, a better reason to stay on earth and grow. And so I did. I grew. But as I was growing, more and more terrible thoughts grew with me too. I never realized it until after I had gotten into several severe fights with some asshole who's name doesn't even deserve my precious breath. They always ended up in moderate damage; sometimes broken ribs, sometimes deep cuts and scratches. Always something. I never seemed to stay out of trouble. A friend of mine, if that is the appropriate word, described these thoughts later as myself finally figuring out I was becoming more and more like he-who-will-be-referred-to-as-nobody than I would've liked. Than I could handle. I kept denying it, and I'm thinking this friend was true. I had become more and more introverted as I got more involved with nobody. The more I fought then made up with him, the deeper the hole I was confined to be buried in. I never even realized it, either. I never saw it coming, I never saw it as it was happening, and I still don't see where it started. But finally, finally after so many nights of suffering with myself...The nights I was so depressed for a reason I still can't name and the nights I had finally wound down from the pills and alcohol and was so brutally aware of how pathetic I'd become, I was outrightedly suicidal. Everywhere I went I was viciously aware of my life, life around me, the what-if's and what-it-could've-been's. One night I was in that bar, in a corner to myself. I wanted to stay away from people, and the bar was my second home after my loft was burned down. I was sleeping in the cemetary after my home was demolished. Anyways, I was so afraid if I spoke to one of my friends, that I would break and do something drastic to hurt them, me, or both. I was quietly thinking in the corner with all the lights dimmed, and in came nobody. He was always so rude. I helped him out so many times in the past with his troubles out of maybe a little care, and mostly the drive so I wouldn't have to hear him whine about it; However, he was still just a whiny, bratty child. He was only a year younger than me, and while I thought we were separated by far in maturity and general day-to-day actions, we were similar in ways that I can't believe still. We were both still growing up, still learning about the world. We were both over-confident in some ways, although he more than I. We both had our share of problems, and being still mere teenagers with a teenage psyche, however small, we both dealt with our problems in similar ways. We introverted, and sat inside ourselves. We both broke silently, without a foreword to others, or a cry for help. And although I showed more compassion for his problems than he to I, what I failed to keep in mind was that I should have been selfish for those countless hours I spent helping him, and helped myself. In some ways I believe I needed more counseling than he, and perhaps that was why I broke in the end. Why I broke and launched myself off a five-story scaffold. I just did and did for others, and degraded myself, that in the moment I needed something most, he couldn't step from his whiny, angsty teenage psyche just long enough to help me, and return the favor."

Anger flickered now. The hurt, the anger, and the despair, all at once welling up inside and throwing a dark tone to her voice. David nodded slightly, frowning himself. He never knew she had tried to kill herself. With someone with so much hope a minute ago, he never suspected there was points this low, and all for reasons she couldn't name.

"And so he walked in, and he made a few comments that, at the time, I couldn't handle. I just couldn't take his smartass commentry, the comments that made his spoiled teenager side come out more than ever. I punched him for his shit, and tried to get up and walk away, but he followed. So I shattered his knee with a well-aimed boot, and ran to jump. It was too much. In those brief minutes, all it took was childish insults to shatter me like glass, into a thousand unreplaceable pieces. I don't even remember what happened after that. It seems like I lost my sanity, and because of that, it stole my memory as well. All I remember after that is waking up at the base of the building with searing, unfathomable pain shooting throughout my body, and my friend hovering in front of me. That's pretty well it. The rest is fuzzy, and not a whole lot is there to tell about the aftermath of that. I got cleaned up and all my broken bones, scrapes, and scratches tended to. And I healed. I healed, and for a few weeks, I was regressive towards people. I was ashamed that I allowed such a child to drive me to jump. I never thought of that child, though, the whole time I was healing. Not until I began to speak to people again, and inform them truthfully of where I'd been for so long without coming to see them. Then the taste, the uncurable want and desire for revenge wrought itself onto me. I dreamt of the day I would find this child and destroy him at last, forever, as I sat on the benches in the park, walked down the street, as I cut myself with razors, and took pills. As I drank my mind away to forget again the constant pain that I felt. The pain I was to discouraged to stand up and take head-on. The pain that ate away at me before, and tried to destroy me. But at last, I found that teenage baby again, and that's all I remember. I remember seeing him, and going insane. Then it fades to black. My insanity took me over again, and from what a gather, all my mental frustrations and anger welled up to rear it's face in the form of a demon. I grew torn-up demon wings, my pupils shrank and vanished, and the color in my eyes drained. I was hastened, and my strength increased by quite possibly ten times. All the pain I felt, the betrayal, and the anger drove me to kill him. And kill him I did. I had a scythe that I dug directly into his heart with, mercilessly. That's all I know. That's all anybody's bothered to tell me. The odd thing is, is that when I lowered my anger enough to regain a single gram of sanity, I remember looking down into his face, and feeling my first pang of remorse. I almost wanted him to live, so I could see him grow and suffer whilst living. I wanted to be able to torture him. But the pang was replaced by some inunderstandable mourning. I have no idea why. I was so clueless as to what happened, and from what I could gather, the sudden release of my unfathomable pain, anger, and sorrow left me weakened, and it left my mind exhausted. As I placed his body in a barrel to burn once and for all, I looked into his face and that pang came back to eat at me. Nobody else knew it, and nobody else knows. I felt it right then, the ferocity of what I'd done, although I didn't know just what I'd done in the first place. I saw the blood on my hands, and I took a tiny glass vial of it, for no reason in particular. Perhaps it was my token of final victory. A battle I, for once, came out with total victory in. The path of somebody's life I had suffered in for so long, and finally, finally I scratched one of those problems off my list. The only one I had ever gotten rid of. That vial was my trophy, to prove that I finally controlled my problems, for those countless minutes, hours possibly, that I battled him to the death. My throat was torn out, and I had many other scratches, but those healed. As the body burned, I couldn't speak to the others. I couldn't even watch the flames warm the sky, so I turned and walked away. I left the place and cried inside the bar. The tears ate into the floor, my clothes...I couldn't take the sudden release of emotions. I have no idea other than that of why I cried. Why I mourned. It took the help of more friends to bring me back around, and I increased myself again, to the point I could be considered fairly happy. I turned nineteen finally, and that was that. I felt anew. I redempt myself, and did nothing but have fun. I still had my low points, but they perhaps weren't as severe as before I turned around. My problems never went away, but they were reduced by friendship and constantly staying busy. I didn't murder quite as frequently as I used to, but rather I drank more often and did more crazy things that way."

David could only stare now. He had no idea anybody could suffer all of this and come out as she did, with most of her sanity in tact, and a good head on her shoulders. He had no idea a person could be as morbid as her, and even more. But she only shook her head sadly, and looked back up to him with a pair of eyes that made him feel so guilty. Guilty he couldn't help her as she'd helped him. She hadn't realized it, but every word that came from her throat had given him a whole new perspective. He'd felt anew himself, as if he should live more. He felt as if he could do anything now, in light of how she had overcome so many things. Sure, it had landed her in prison eventually and he would never go to those extremes, but perhaps he wouldn't feel quite so helpless or distressed now over the little things, such as not making as much money as such-and-such, or not getting the bonus he wanted, or visiting the family. This girl had nothing left. She never had much to start with, and she lived. She actually lived in more than one way, whereas he himself had barely put a scratch in getting out and being lively.

"And then I was caught. I will never tell how to anybody; I take that to my grave. But I went out in some shame. I regret many things about that night. And since then, I have regressed into a helpless girl. Just a twenty-some nothing. I'm not myself, that's all I know. And I can't regain that 19-year-old wily girl again, until I'm out of here or dead. I miss her, and I feel like this isn't supposed to be happening, but it is. And I can't stop it. Don't pray for me David, don't even mention me to your god. I'm facing life and death by myself. I don't want pity from a deity I never believed in, nor ever cared for."

The guard nodded; his throat was in a knot, and his eyes fixated on his hands. Kuroshi could see he felt everything, every emotion she did. He took every word to heart, and let it affect him deeply. She felt sorry for the man, and was helpless as to what to do to help console him. She didn't mean to haunt him so; she'd grown fairly fond of him over the course of a few short days. She was sorry now that she was to take her own life the next day. She was sorry he had to see her press the gun into her temple and shoot. She was sorry he had to see the silver blood spray out of the left side of her head, and her body fall limp on the floor. But she knew perfectly well it had to be done. And there was nothing more she could do about it. This was an unstoppable fate, and she had to face it bravely, with a strong stature, as she had so many years ago.
Glancing at the clock, she saw it was well past his shift. She put herself in front of him, kneeling forth to peer intently into his face, searching for any hint that he would be okay, as she was sure he would be, in time.

"David? Promise me something."

"I...I don't know that I can promise you anything anymore. Tomorrow's your last day, and I'm only one man."

"You know, at this point, every promise I can get is a promise I will remember. It's simple, actually. Just promise me one thing. One simple thing that one intelligent man can keep, I know."

The man, the fellow human with a soul, feelings, and thoughts, nodded feebly, eyes locking with the pretty inmate's soft gray ones.

"Promise me that you'll forget me after this. Because it's important you feel nothing after I put that bullet into my head tomorrow. It's vital that you feel nothing for me, because that's what I am. I am nothing. I am just one girl in a sea of billions, and I'm sorry I've made you feel this way. I'm sorry, I really am. I never apologize unless I'm wrong. And I was very wrong in befriending you. I don't want you to mourn for a girl who doesn't mourn for herself. I want you to promise that you will put me out of your mind, and that you will rest peacefully at night. That you will do nothing but sweetly dream like I have never had the fortune of doing, and put every last aspect of this meeting, and every previous meeting out of your mind. That when you see the bullet pierce flesh, you will be oblivious to all emotions. You are a guard, and you broke the rules for me. You do not, and I repeat; Do NOT deserve to shed any tears or sign of grief for a person like me. All because you fell into the trap that you never even wanted to fall into to begin with. You never could've known any of these haunting words if you wouldn't have bent the rules for just one night. So promise me, David. Promise me as a man, a friend, and a fellow human you will put every last thought of me and my words out of your mind for the rest of your hopefully long and happy life. Promise me, please." Kuroshi, at the end of her request, just realized the tears burning down her face, and the tears forming in her companions. She never meant for this to happen. She was stronger than this, yet had let herself grow attatched to such a friendly man in a few short days.

David broke the gaze, and broke in spirit. He fell foward into an overly warm embrace, tears spilling onto the girl's jumpsuit. He, himself couldn't believe he cared so much for somebody he knew so little of. For somebody he'd known for only a few days. Perhaps he had grown close to her in the sense that she trusted him enough to share her epic. The sense that there was an undoubted attraction from him to her, even if it wasn't mutual. He longed for her friendship now, for just a little longer. He wished that he had known her before, as she seemed the type of friend he wanted for so long, but never knew existed. He had a new perspective now, a new want and need in his life. He wanted now, more than ever, to be able to go back and change things so he could meet such extraordinary people outside this concrete-and-brick hell. He felt so unfufilled, like the shallow life he'd been living had killed him now. That, after she left the world, he wanted to come with and see the biggest picture. Because he was so empty and had no depth compared to her.

Choking back the knot in his throat, he faintly replied, "I promise", voice half muffled as he buried his face in her shoulder.

This was just the reaction she hadn't wanted. They barely knew each other, and the exchange of tears and embraces wasn't necessary. It was an overly emotional moment, with more reaction than was necessary. The two strangers shouldn't have had such a high rush of sorrow, but it had happened. Somewhere, somewhere in the cosmos where fate was manipulated, they had found each other, and there was a connection, however short it ran. There was a spark, and so they became fast friends. She pulled away from him, not able to stand being touched for too long, and gave him a genuine smile. A smile nobody had ever seen. He was, perhaps, her only friend in the world at the moment, as the rest had been lost. She spoke directly and bluntly, making sure no more tears lingered on her face.

"This is too much. This is such a cheesy movie moment, it's almost funny. But I'm glad we have an understanding."

"Yeah...Well I gotta get going. It's probably late, and I'm most likely long past my shift."

"I was figuring the same thing. Just recuff me and we can part for the night."

The girl was once more restrained from much of any movement, and the guard left quietly, and left the girl in solemn, solitary silence and darkness. She was left there to think again, of what she would have to do the next day, and what sort of thing she could do to get a crowd in her isolation cell so they could all see her take control of herself. This was how it had to be, so she might as well do it in an orderly fashion. It was fairly guaranteed her friends had forgotten her long since then, because she hadn't heard of anybody breaking into the prison in the past year to retrieve an inmate, and it was certainatly too late to ask David to help her. Besides, she couldn't ask of him such a thing. How could she rely on a man who didn't even rely on himself enough to have a lot of confidence? Besides, she already declared she didn't want him to have anything to do with herself, so it was clear her intentions were to destroy herself if she would be forsaken so. It was how it had to be, and it was what was yet to come.

The next day, a priest, a few people from the press, and a few of her old companions came to see her. The day seemed to wear on forever, unrelentlessly. Every person that came to see her assumed she was grieving on the inside for herself. They always assumed. They still assumed, and they would keep assuming, but none of them would ever know. They would never know what she was thinking, and they were damning themselves to wonder. To wonder and watch and wait. To create a logical hypothesis and assume it so, because it's what a normal person would do in her situation. But she would never weep, nor show signs of sorrow. She was not sorry this was what was to become of her, and she was not remorseful. She wouldln't take any of it back, not even for her life. They would never know her, and they never even tried. They would always think of her as a coldhearted killer, one who got justice. Perhaps she was, but she never got justice. She didn't get justice when her father abused her, nor when she was hungry. She was never offered much hospitality, nor a kind word from outsiders. Always that homeless teen girl of whom it would be considered absurd to talk to. She hated them all and no matter how hard they pressed her for some sign of emotion, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing what she was feeling. They could assume all they wanted, they could say bad things, but they would be damned to wonder. That was her satisfaction, was knowing these shallow people would be haunted to wonder always about her. They had had contact with her, and now they were haunted to think outside their petty lives into the life of another, in a completely different situation they would never face themselves.
When the first reporter came, the conversation went a little like so;

Reporter walks in with a notebook, pencil, and microphone. Very professionally dressed, in a business suit with a skirt. Woman has pencil stuck in her bun, and a pair of sophisticated glasses balanced on a delicately powdered nose. She sits very carefully, as not to put a run in those important panty hose, nor tear her very expensive name-brand skirt. "Hello, Ms. Li. I'm Samantha Julius. How are you today?"

Kuroshi found the woman a little too warm at first, and reluctantly spoke, ears flattened against her head in spite of herself. "Hello, Ms. Julius. I'm fine, considering I die tonight at midnight."

The reporter smiled pleasantly, speaking as if Kuroshi was a mentally retarded child. Au contraire, Madmoiselle Julius. "Don't be afraid to tell me truthfully what you feel, Ms. Li. I promise that if there's something you want to say, but you want to keep it private, I'm willing to listen to you."

Kuroshi wasn't amused already, and they were only thirty seconds into the conversation. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be called Kuroshi, and what I tell you will be the minimum of anything, because I don't trust you, Ms. Julius. You are a very shallow woman whom can't think for herself. I pity you. I pity you and your family and friends. I already hate you, Ms. Julius, and that's saying a lot."

Ms. Julius was taken aback at the girl's words. She had expected her to be a mental case, foaming at the mouth, or perhaps even a bit remorseful, speaking of how she wished she could take it all back. She hadn't expected this girl to focus on herself. "That's...I mean...those are very strong words, Kuroshi. But let us focus on you, not me. Do you not regret any of what you did? You killed innocent people. You killed men, women, children. You are considered a very horrid person in the eyes of millions of Americans."

"I never killed children. I killed people who hurt me in some way, Ms. Julius, not out of boredom or lack of anything better to do. They all died for a reason, and they all deserved it. I take nothing back. I would do it all over again the exact same way, if I could."

"That's horrible. How did they hurt you?"

"In many ways. Some tried to mug me, others degraded me based on appearances, others tried to get laid, some refused me service because I wasn't like anybody else. Some of the others, I'll admit, I killed them for petty things, like not letting me drink directly from the slurpie fountain, but they denied me what I wanted, so I denied them something they desired. Life. And I would kill you too, if I could."

"So tell me a little of your past. Was it something that happened in your past that made you act this way?"

Kuroshi's jaw stiffened, and she spoke blankly, plainly, yet sternly. "My past is none of your big-assed, small-boobed business. I will tell you nothing, because it will only make you feel better that you're some ho that gets fucked up the ass every night by a new man, because none of them want a relationship with such a nosy, inadequate bitch like you. It will make you feel better to know that you're not me. That you never had to struggle in your life except to know how to seduce a man in less than five minutes. It will make you feel good because you are Samantha Julius, and not Kuroshi Akira Li. Fuck you."

The woman gaped, eyes wide in horror. She couldn't believe such a girl could speak like that to her. She'd never been spoken to that way, obviously. She grasped for words, but couldn't say much at all. "Thank you for the interview. Good day."

"Go fuck yourself. Today's the happiest day of my pathetic fucking life. I hope you get hit by a truck when you step outside to get to your car."

And so she was left alone again. But the solitude lasted only for a half hour, maybe. Then one of her former inmates who got relocated in the prison came to see her.

"Heya killer...Today's the big day, right?"

"Sure." she replied blandly, eyes staring elsewhere. Seemingly the dingy white wall across from her, but something screamed that she was looking into a different place.

"Nervous?"

"Why should I be?"

"I dunno...It just seems that most people on death row wish to keep their lives. They don't want to meet the man upstairs, y'know?"

"I'd rather live, because I have a few things to live for, but what the hell. Can't fight the future, no? Besides. I don't believe in this 'man upstairs.' He had forsaken me the day I was born, so fuck you and your Christain shit."

"Whatever. Look, I gotta get back. I reasoned with one of the guards, and he gave me five minutes to talk to you. Apparantly I don't need that long to see that you don't change, Ms. Li."

"Don't be stupid. Everything changes. I just don't appreciate all this religious bullshit people keep questioning me about. One of the reporters was a heavy bible-reader. 'SHITFACE 6:15 SAYS THAT YOU'RE GOING TO HELL' or something like that. If I am going to hell, then at least I get some congratulations on all my murders. And I'll be warm. So fuck that."

The other chuckled quietly, heading for the door. She looked back at Kuro, who was still staring off into space. "See you around, man."

"Only if you're going to hell."

And with that, she left. People came and went, none of them staying for very long. And finally, after she guessed it was nightfall, David quietly entered her cell. He looked somber and torn-up, his soft hazel eyes falling upon the quiet girl, curled up in the corner, and shook his head. She was sleeping, it seemed. He didn't know whether or not he should wake her, but it was about 11:00. He wanted to come early so they could talk a little. But it seemed if she was sleeping, she should be able to have some content before pushing a bullet through her head.

"David?" A soft voice called out, seemingly from Kuroshi. Her knees were pulled up to her chin, arms behind her back. So she was awake. Or had just awoken.

"Yeah, Kuro?" He crossed the room to sit down next to her, and undid the restraints.

"Why do people hate me so much?"

"Not everybody hates you..."

"That's not what I asked you. I asked you why people hate me so much."

"I dunno...maybe because they feel strongly against what you did...Because they don't understand what's different. Maybe because they're afraid of you."

She sighed, head falling against his shoulder. It seemed as if now she was truely feeling her age. She was only twenty-five, sure, but all the years she'd been so careless finally added up. She finally came to grips, in that instant, what was wrong for so many years.
"Even you were afraid of me at first."

"Yes, but in a way, the fear is forced on people. The public is only told of what went wrong with people, and sometimes it scares them. I had only heard about the 'horrible horrible sinner' you were, and that's what I judged you by. But shit happens, right? You don't seem like the type to ever have cared."

"In a way I wasn't. But I had eventually shoved any care for others down enough to where I had better things to focus myself on. I didn't have time to care what people thought of me. But when I look at it now...it sort of hurts knowing that I'm one of the world's most hated people. I'm still a person too, and I still need some of the same things as any other homo sapien. It's not like because I chose a different path to live by, that I'm suddenly some machine. I still breathe oxygen, need food and water, I still feel emotions, I still love and hate...The only difference is, is that I have different morals. I have different concepts of what's wrong and right. But I'm still a human."

The guard fell silent for a moment, sighing softly himself. Finally, he changed the subject to something else. He didn't want to get into any big emotional talk. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah. I fell asleep about an hour or so ago, I think. I had a moment of total clarity, then I was out. But I'm glad you did. I was tired of people who could give a shit less about me trying to learn about my past just to get their magazine or newspaper some publicity."

"Hmm...Sounds like the media alright." David glanced at his watch. It glowed neon blue, the digits showing it was 11:21.

"What time is it?"

"Eleven twenty-two."

"Mmm...Just thirty-seven more minutes I'm here."

"It's not fair."

"What isn't?"

"That you are one of the most honest, genuine people I've ever met, and you have to leave. That after you leave, I have to go back to my everyday life with shallow, superficial people. I almost want to die too."

"David, you promised..."

"I know. But I don't know that it will be easy for me to just forget..."

"I'm sorry...I shouldn't have asked so much."

Kuroshi's words bit into him. He couldn't even fufill that much for her, and it gnawed at him. The guilt shook him a bit, and he laid a hand on top of her head, his arm touching her back. He softly stroked her hair, his head falling on hers. It was a moment that suggested romance, and David hardly realized that. Perhaps he did it to comfort her. Or perhaps even to comfort himself. Or maybe even in his oblivion, he had felt something for the girl. In any case, she didn't object, but rather closed her eyes and he could feel the tension slip. Perhaps this had happened before, and frequently. It wasn't as if she was exactly ugly. In fact, if he thought about it, it was quite the contrary. But he'd neglected that pestering emotion, after he promised her he'd forget it all. He peered down at her face, and her expression showed content. She'd probably fallen asleep.
He relaxed a bit too, but kept glancing at his watch as the minutes slowly melted away. It grew to be 11:55, and finally he lifted his head, shaking her shoulder a bit. He was reluctant to break the moment, but it had to be done.

"Kuroshi...It's five til twelve. Wake up..."

"Hmm? Shit, I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep. Alright, alright..."

"Do you have your gun?"

"Yeah. Loaded and ready to go." She stood up, all five foot six inches seeming a little taller than before. Perhaps it was the new-found confidence and clarity that made her seem bigger. It radiated, for certain; David stood as well, looking down at her from his six foot three stature. He grinned slightly, unsure of what else he could say to her.

She crossed the room, and pulled up a section of the wall somebody's cut away at while they'd stayed in confinment. She pulled out her magnum, and looked it over with a look in her eye that said that her decision was the right one.

"So what do you think they'll send you back to earth as?" David meant reincarnation. She'd never really thought about this, but her answer was decided, and firm.

"A fox."

David grinned, seeing where she got that. "Interesting choice. A black one, I presume?"

"Of course. Don't let them cage me up then either."

"If I see you..."

"Of course you will. I'll come back to haunt you." She laughed, making sure the gun was loaded.

"You have a really dark sense of humor, you know that?" David grinned, but not quite as big as he might've had she not been eyeing the gun so closely.

"Yeah. But you seem to have one too, if you laugh at it."

"True."
Her face suddenly fell, and she was serious in every aspect. From the way the gun was held in one hand, to the way she looked at him just then. "What time is it?"

"Eleven...fifty-seven..."

She took a step towards David, and pulled him back to the farthest corner away from the door. The guards would be coming any minute now to march her into the into the execution room.

"You don't have to stay here and watch, David. It will only hurt you more, and make it harder to forget."

"No...I want to. I have to, now."

She nodded, then leaned up and hugged the man, the magnum still clutched in one hand. "You've been too good to me."

He held the embrace perhaps far too long, then looked down at her, admiring the way her face so gracefully sloped down into a soft point, how her eyes changed from a cold gray to a soft, inviting silver. How her hair draped in all the right places, and how her bangs invited anybody to brush them from her face to see her better. It was such an odd match, to have a guard fall for an inmate as he had done, but perhaps he let the last minute go. He couldn't have her die not knowing what was going on through his mind. A typical movie moment, but it couldn't be helped.

"Kuroshi..."

"David, don't tell me...No...don't give me that look."

She seemed angry for a moment, but he couldn't be hurt by the way she rejected what he was going to say before it came out of his mouth.
Instead, he bent down a bit as not to tower over her so, and carefully pressed his lips to hers. She didn't draw back, but it was hurting her more. It wasn't his intent; it was never his intent, but once again...It couldn't be helped.

She drew back first, looking immensly hurt. She pushed him away from her sharply, and placed the gun to her head, as the door began to unlock. The cool metal seemed right at home against her temple, the warmth of the blood pounding there meshing with the lack of heat the end of the gun provided.
The door burst open, and David lunged foward with a gun in each hand to ward the guards off. He glances quickly back at Kuroshi and waited for the telltale shot to ring out, and the blood to fountain from the other side of her head. But it never happened.

Time seemed to slow down, every second the equivalent to an hour, and that saddened, hurt, yet so brave look she gave him gnawed at him even more. But rather suddenly, as he could see her wrist tense, and her finger pressure the trigger, the guards suddenly fell in front of him, raining blood on the floor, and on him. He gaped in wild wonder, and there stood three figures; One was taller than the rest, seemingly male, and the other of smaller stature, with the anatomy that of a female.

"KURO!" Screamed one, lunging foward. She had brunette hair hidden under a black stocking cap, and she looked wildly at the girl with the gun to her head. She snatched the gun out of her hand and hugged her just a bit too hard. "WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU, MY LOVE?" She looked on the brink of tears, although it should've been Kuro who was the more upset one.

"Carrie? HOLY FUCK CARRIE!" Kuro's eyes grew in excitement and disbelief, and she returned the friendly gesture, staring in complete surprise at her friend she thought had forgotten her completely.

The next to maul the caged bird was one with long black hair similar, but not the same as Kuroshi's. She tackled her to the ground, and grinned wildly in the face. "When we get back to the bar, we must have a huge cake orgy just for you."

Kuroshi grinned impossibly wide, pulling herself up from the ground. "With sex and food and drinking and karaoke?"

"OF COURSE! Chain is probably chasing Kanth around now, causing havoc waiting for us to get back. God knows what they're doing together."

A calmer, rather blank voice cut through the excitement of the reuniting friends. "We have to go. Now."

Kuro turned her face to see Azrael's, and she might've tackled him in the simple relief to see more familiar faces, but it was of her better judgement not to.

"Sounds like a plan." As Kuro went to leap over the heaps of dead corpses, she looked at David and gave him a genuine smile.

"Looks like the Batmobile did come crashing through the ceiling, huh?"

"In a sense." David grinned too, and made no notion to follow them out.

"So, I guess this is where we part ways and I get my happily-ever-after..."

"Yeah. Send me a postcard. Or...something. Come visit sometime."

Kuro gave him a weird look. "Come visit you? What the hell? I'm escaping this place for a reason. But I'll be sure to track you down anyways."

"Sounds good. Good-bye, Kuroshi."

Her face fell a bit, seeing the lost, left-behind look. "I know you can't come with...I'm sorry."

He nodded reassuringly at her. "Don't worry about it. I still have a life to live. You just got your second chance, now don't waste it. Get the hell outta here."

She grinned again brightly, and tossed her gun at him, as her three rescuers dashed out the door.

She never looked back.




Alternate Ending #1