Tick.Tick.
Light.
Tick.Tick.
Gone.
But my watch hasn't made a sound, the hands haven't moved a millimeter in over two hundred and seventy years. It stopped the second my light was snuffed out.
Her blood is still in the cracks, tiny remnants of her warmth dot the once white face. The back is split down the middle, a gaping hole in the gold where the cogs and gears are exposed, a few missing and long gone.
Gone with my love.
Every breath feels as though it's my last, feels as though it should be my last, but that final breath never comes.
My lungs still draw air.
My heart still beats.
My blood still flows like ice in my veins.
That final breath never fucking comes.
Instead, each day and each night, it brings only more pain.
Each waking hour is spent mourning. Plotting. Searching.
Vengeance sits at the forefront of my mind, rules my thoughts, clouds my vision. The need for retribution, for a punishment worthy of the crime committed eats away at all of my thoughts, consumes me, drives me to the brink of sanity.
I was never a good man.
Hardly a man at all.
A thing.
An abomination of nature that never should have existed but I was created nonetheless.
I never should have lived, never should have survived my mother's womb. All others died before they had a chance to live, and what a cruel joke The Maker has made; a devious and vicious prank to have allowed me life when She only intended to take it away in the most brutal way possible.
And yet She did it anyway.
The Maker dangled happiness on a razor thin string, held it just beyond my grasp, and when I could feel the thread against my fingertips, She snipped it; cut it in a way that can never be restitched.
I suppose it is deserved.
Karmic. Reaping what I sow.
Before I found my light I let the darkness rule.
I killed. Maimed. Tortured. Played.
Albeit, with only those deserving.
Rapists. Abusers. Murderers.
Those who found joy in destroying others, ones crueler than I ever intended to be.
Still.
