Shoot me while I write depressing fanfic snippets.
Might be part of the series I'm working on.

And it's dark, dark. and beware...it's not betaed.



Sometimes it's just easier to not give a damn, to not look back and let this darkness consume him like fire. It would be rage, it woul be control, it would be power. And in the end all that would be left is shame.

Consuming, spreading like a virus, eating him up like vultures, tentacles grabbing him, drowing all that was left of his soul. And slowly it would die, like it was already dying a little more each day.

Shabby cloak, dirty pants. So long ago. A smile. A kiss.

There is no redemption. Not for him. No absolution for his soul. For he still was a slave to the red fire, even though he had discarded it a long time ago. He was still imprisoned in its wake, fighting it every day. He was darkness.

A smile. A kiss. Desperate.

He cannot remember. Doesn't deserve it. Never did.