I remember that ruined city. I remember the endless piles of rubble and debris. I remember the blurred thoughts swimming inside my head. I remember the pain in my left arm. And I remember the pain in my heart.
It’s been so long. Too long. And yet, with the length of time that has floated in between the past and the present, the burning confusion and delirium that I had experienced that day still lingers.
And I know it was me.
The memory of that horrible light scorching my body, and my mind, engulfing me in its sinful radiance still dances around in my jumbled soul. With every waking moment, the all-consuming reminiscence of that day, 23 years ago, continues to taunt me, to fill my emotions with torment and undeniable darkness. I can’t turn my back on it, like I try so hard with the other tribulations that tug at my heels. I am reminded of that day every time I look up. I see not the Fifth Moon above, but that dreadful light that devours me each time I come in contact with him.
How dare you. How dare you taunt me the way you do. Do you take me for a fool? Do you seriously think that I cannot take care of myself? That I can’t live on my own without you or Rem besides me, watching over me?
Why must you press to prove yourself to me? You need not try and impress me with your evil and sick mannerism, brother. I can already sense the immorality dwelling deep within your mind, each time I look at myself.
You see, brother, as long as our blood runs the same, you are me, and I am you. As much as I abhor your ways of life, your ways of thinking, I cannot deny our bond that we share as plants, as brothers, as twins. With each person you hate, I feel that I have hated. With each person you kill, I feel that I have killed. In each action you take towards the human race, I am to blame. I am the reason why you scrounge this horrible planet with henchmen, with brainwashed humans, which you so vehemently despise. I am the reason why you are in such pain. I am the reason why you feel so alone.
I know what you are feeling, brother. For you are me, and I am you.
And I wonder if you can feel my pain? Can you feel the years of anguish bestowed upon my weary shoulders? Can you feel the burning sorrow inside my heart? Can you feel the mayhem that is my thoughts inside my head? Then why can’t you stop? Why can’t you stop the hatred? Stop your inane vow to steal what little happiness I have left, brother! Why? Because it’s already been stolen. And you can’t steal what you’ve already taken, Knives.
As soon as that ship exploded in the dark void that is space, my happiness, my life drifted off along with her soul. Everything that I had ever known followed her, to never return. I am forgetting everything she had taught me, and you are to blame. I will never forget the thief that you became that day, however. You stole everything about me. You stole her.
You stole her!
And every time your image burns into my mind, I begin to lose what little coherent thought I had left inside my head. Even as I write this, I veer off topic. I begin to ramble about nothing, but about everything.
But it’s funny, as I forget what I am about to write, I can’t seem to forget that day.
July 21st, 0108, 2:06 p.m. It is a blur to me, yet strangely, quite clear. I can still feel the pain in my left arm, and I can still feel the foreign sensation crawling across my right arm. I felt my mind slowly crossing over to the impiety that yours is already teeming with, and I watched in horror as I lost control of myself. I don’t know what you did then, brother, but God forbid you do it again. The next I recall is staggering through what once was a bustling city, brimming with hope and bliss that the planet is so cheated out of these days. And I stop, the wind whipping the tattered brown blanket I clutched to my worn body about, sending it across what probably was a very blank and vacant face I held that day. And I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see the little girl that stood before me.
But I sensed the emotions that she had at that moment, and could only recognize them as pain. I leaned down, drawing the child into my arm (I would like to pluralize that, but the reason why I didn’t is obvious) and held her. I just held her.
And now I wonder…who was comforting who? I had drawn her in because I knew she was crying. She was crying tears of lost memories once that city was destroyed. But why had she come to me? Why had she stepped into my welcoming embrace, the embrace of a total stranger?
She couldn’t see. She couldn’t see the man that stood before her. But she must have sensed the emotions that the man held at that moment, and could only recognize them as pain.
July 21st…you and I were born then, weren’t we, brother? And on that day, 23 years ago, I was hoping to find my only piece of Rem I had left.
And you did it again. You managed to steal her away from me indirectly this time. You stole his life. You stole what little hope I had left.
Happy birthday to you too, brother.