I feel dead inside.
A hollow shell for the demons within me...
Especially when I hear them.
I see them, too. They scream a lot.
They speak of my worthlessness and how they don't love me...
How hated I am...
Am I?
Am I so worthless?
But others say I'm not...
Are they demons too?
Deceptive ones if they are...
They stay by my side, even when I wish I were dead...
They care?
Maybe so...
But what about Grae?
His eyes have gone red...
The color of blood,
The color of a fire worse than hell,
The color of lust.
He would follow me everywhere,
And say such vulgar things,
Touch me where he shouldn't...
But I'm too weak.
I am pathetic. Worthless.
I can't chase him off...
So Mari ripped off his pure white wings,
Next time she killed him...
Next time he came back...
Next time he hurt her...
He's not gone as long I'm like this...
I feel dead inside...
A house for my demons...
They... Hurt... Me...
He... Hurts... Me.
Grae.
His wings were as pure as an angel's. Eyes as blue as the sky, and hair was white as the clouds...
He has the horns of the devil. Eyes as red as hell, hair as black as night...
Grae... The median of the two sides of the boy...
Grae... The color of my doom...
