Fate Wheel | Naruto

𝟏𝟖| Breathe

"Oh, monsters are scared," said Lettie. "That's why they're monsters."
— Neil Gaiman

───※ ·❆· ※───

DAWN

It couldn't be real.

But his limp form on the ground told her otherwise. His black fur was matted down with the sickening, metallic scent of his own blood. His body was mauled with thick lacerations that revealed his torn flesh and the whiteness of his bones. His red eyes were open, but stared at her lifelessly- wondering what he had ever done to deserve her betrayal.

She had killed him.

Dawn dropped the sword in her hand, her pained wails rippling through the air- much like the blade that she had used to kill her friend.

"N-No..." she whispered, shaking her head in denial. "I— please, be okay. I didn't mean for this to happen. I... I...."

Dawn glanced at her hands, staring at her reflection on the thick layer of blood staining her skin.

Jiro's blood.

She released a horrific scream, her knees buckling to the ground. There was blood everywhere, his blood, all over her, on her clothes, on her hands, on the sword— she used, the sword she used to kill him. Her best friend. The one person she ever cared about had met his demise through her very hands.

How could have this ever happened? She covered her mouth to conceal her wretched sobs, her blood-stained cheeks intertwining with her tears. It was preordained. His fate had already been decided the moment she made attachments, she strung him along, used him as a shield and when she didn't need him, she ended him. Because that's who she truly was, a selfish, heartless monster who killed everything she touched. Her knees grazed against the ground, bleeding at the feeling of her skin peeling open, she embraced the pain, welcomed it even, because she deserved every bit of it. She deserved the most painful death, death didn't even do her justice. It didn't do Jiro justice.

She had to suffer in the worst, possible way to atone for her sins. The sin of killing the people that had fallen into the trap of caring for her.

How could one care about a monster?

"I'm sorry." She crawled towards her deceased friend. Her hands shakily rose into the air and touched his head. "You didn't deserve this. I'm so, so sorry." She cried, burying her face into his fur- yearning for his warmth, yearning for his life to be replenished.

"You're right, he didn't deserve this." A sick cackle met the air.

Her eyes widened in fear. Jiro disappeared from sight and she was back to the place she feared the most. The dark room. That was what she had called it. Every time she had been taken here, she'd will for the darkness to save her from her miserable life- begging to end it all, end the torture, end the pain and the coldness of metal quenching into her skin, twisting and turning and shredding her insides into pieces and pieces and pieces until she was laying in a bath of her own blood.

"Oh, little bird..." a voice sung in the air, her body freezing at the sound of it. "Won't you look at me?" She laughed. Her nails dug into her sunken cheeks, forcing Dawn to stare at her.

Her eyes were the embodiment of a sinister creature. Her red pupils represented the way she raptured at the sight of her victims withering in her grasps in pure fear, thriving in it, assimilating the sounds of their screams like it was a lullaby that could null her to sleep. This was all a cruel game to her. Dawn was the player and she was the one who tugged all the strings and manipulated her like she was a puppet at her tenacity. A game she had always won.