Me Or Them (Voltron Klance)

T"W"O

Keith's POV

"I will never give up on you."

My favorite words strung together rang in my head as I sat on the floor against my bed. But, how can they both be my favorite words and my least favorites.

He broke his promise.

He gave up on me.

I shakily reach for my only outlet. The journal Shiro gave me. I only hope that writing down my thoughts and frustrations can help me release it all.

Dear journal,

After all that he knows I've been through, he gave up on me. He sees exactly what he saw in me. Evil. A demon.

Why do I have to keep proving that I'm loyal to my father figures? It all seems to come so easy to Lance and Pidge and everyone else! Why is it me?! What's wrong with me? Why the hell can't anyone just love me for me without me having to almost die? Am I really evil and I don't Know it? But, I don't want to betray Earth. I love everyone. I don't want anyone to get hurt. It's unfair!

Why me?

My pencil snaps as I think about how I have no one. How I'm all alone. How I'm only a tool in a galactic war.

Even though my pencil is broken, I continue writing with what I have, as unwanted memories flood my brain.

I don't think I've written about this before. Maybe it'll be good to write it down. See, my dad died when I was young and I was sent to live a foster family from when I was 3 to 10 years old. The Mcshaws. They were really Catholic.

I don't remember what exactly made them think this, but they were convinced I was possessed by a demon. They probably saw the same thing in me that Shiro sees. The same thing that made Shiro stop caring about me. I probably am some kind of demon. They did a lot of things to me, like lock me in the basement, starve me, try to burn the demon out of me, would drown me in holy water, and a whole lot of other torture.

So, that was my life until I met Shiro. Until I met Voltron. I thought of them as my family, because I didn't have one. Now that I think about it, I was so desperate to have something to call a family that I didn't see that they didn't want me in their famil

I stop writing and just look at the page that was now stained in non-stop tear drops. I close the journal shut and keel over, clutching my aching heart.

I hadn't realized until I wrote it down. I wanted a family so bad...so bad that I forced my existence on them. They probably hated me long before they found out I was Galra, but I was too indulged in the idea of not being alone that I didn't think about how they felt. I tried not to be too bearing and kept my distance, but...they still hated me. Probably because I really am possessed by a demon.

A demon shouldn't live. A Galra shouldn't live.

I stood up from my spot on the floor and tiredly made my way to the bathroom. The movement made me ache, courtesy of pidge's fist the other day. When I stood in front of the mirror, I could see it. Who I really was.

Purple skin. Car like ears. Fangs. Mark. Glowing red eyes. I stepped back from the mirror in fear of seeing who stared back at me. The monster in the mirror smiled at me, sinisterly.

"Why are you afraid? This is who you really are." The distorted voice of the monster said.

Paralyzed in fear, I gulp, unable to look way from the hideous reflection. "N...no...no...I'm not..."

"You're not what? A monster? A demon? You poor poor stupid little boy. Of course you are. Of course we are. After all, that's what everyone says you are. So, who are you to tell Shiro and your old family they are wrong?" He asked.

My heart begins to race and my breathing picks up. This monster is me. The thing in the mirror is my soul. It's hideous. It needs to die...

"You...you're...m-me...?" I asked, beginning to believe in the demon's words.

He confidently smirked. "Of course I am. After all, this is a mirror. It's reflecting who we really are. Face it. No one can love a villain like us. So, why don't you get some revenge on the people that have made our lives hell? We can't get to the Mcshaws in space, so let's start with that dick Shiro? Or how about Lance? He seems weaker--"

"NO! I am not going to hurt anybody! They may not care about me, but I still care about them!" I yell, startling him.

He lets out a cackle that sends shivers down my spine and my head begin to feel like it's splitting open. That laugh seemed to send fear into all parts of my body. I put my hands over my ears, trying to make it stop, but that only made it seem like the laughing is getting louder.

I'm cowering in fear of myself. I'm pathetic.

"Exactly. You are pathetic. That's why you should kill all of the people in this place," he said, finally stopping that terrifying laugh. But, I couldn't stop trembling. "Like I said, you're a monster. You are Galra. That means you should act like it. Victory or death. Either kill them all or die. You're choice."

I knew the answer to that quicker than I should've. They could find a new paladin. They wouldn't care if I died. I had no real reason to live.

My hand reached for the drawer, where I slid it open to reveal one thing. A razor. Just the blade of a razor stained in dry blood. I found it odd that I couldn't remember using that razor blade before, but I didn't really think about it. I knew what to do.

"I'd rather die...than become you..." I whispered. I brought up my wrist and just stared at it. I was suddenly over come with fatigue and stood there, just staring blankly at my already scarred wrist for who knows how long. Then, my hand containing the blade raised towards my wrist. I felt the cool metal graze my skin.

The next thing I knew, I was lying in my bed.

Confused, hungry, and disoriented, I lift up my wrists to my line of sight, seeing that they had already been bandaged. I felt hung over and my vision was hazy. Most of all, my head was pounding and my heart was racing.

I didn't want to think about it. It only made my head hurt more. So, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.