[mature] I've Been Way Too Numb Now | Elle

[Kradle]

I don't feel enough for you to cry
here's a lullaby to close your eyes

Death. That's what he felt like. Not only in the sense that he wished to stop existing, but also in the sense that every part of him just felt dead. His body didn't want to move, a broken automaton in the center of a moving world. His appetite had already left him weeks before, his ribs starting to stick out beneath his inky coat. Even the rich red of blood and the ripping of flesh could not entice him to finish a meal. Sleep was even rarer now than it was before, the grip of exhaustion was not strong enough for his eyes to stay closed nor for his mind to stay quiet. The ghosts that haunted his mind and barraged his ears only made his weariness worsen. They screamed such horrible things at him, never silent anymore. What was once annoying whispers and occasional demands was now constant chaos, and the screams of his own mental banshee mixed with them to create what he could only describe as mental torment. 

He lay in the bushes, the only movement his body displayed was the rise and fall of his abdomen as slow, shallow breaths escaped him. Eyes closed, he let the cold of the ground make his body numb, despite the feeling of pain all throughout his insides. Kradle did not often weep, he did not often show discomfort, but now he had no where to turn, he had no where to hide. The dark of the night cloaked him, and he wished so deeply for the dark to fall upon him and embrace him with death. 

But there was no time to grieve for his own sanity, feeling sorry for himself and wallowing in despair would only make him still and broken. A rage began to boil in him once more, his mind finally snapping back into reality. Sadness is a sign of weakness and a chance for vulnerability. There was nothing to gain from basking in tears and screaming at God. He would sob no longer, instead letting out a haunted screech into the darkness, his hot breath visible in the cold air as the sound pierced the stillness of night, reaching into the depths of his surroundings. A warning call, or perhaps a battle cry. He parted himself from his immobility, he banished the feeling of fear, the feeling of remorse. He wanted to die more than anything in this world, but first he must make them understand. He must make everyone he crosses feel the hatred he felt, feel the loneliness, the hurt, the fear. He would march with one foot in Hell, bringing chaos and grief to anyone who approached him. 

A creature who is so blinded by their own pain will not mourn for the loss of happiness of others, but rather rejoice in their sorrows and bathe themselves within their victim's loss. The folly of his foes shall be their own optimistic willingness to reach for those who are not as fortunate as themselves.  

Kradle

[OOC: I don't know if this can be considered mature as of this post, but considering the direction I usually take Kradle I will tag it just in case of future profanity or detailed mentions of gore, ect.]