Who am I?

Summary: 20: Sometimes, anda are not sure if this life's worth it; but, then again, it's only sometimes.
...

"Is—is that you?" her voice cracks and anda nod feebly.

"Yeah, it's me."

She turns away, tears in her eyes, head in hands.

anda reach out your arm and try to pat her back. She steps back, eyes wide and nervous, avoiding your touch.

"Go," she hisses suddenly, tears streaking down her face, hands now clenched at her sides.

anda are confused, but say nothing.

"C'mon, please, —" anda start, but she interrupts you.

"No." She's pleading with you, and looks so hurt and alone, all anda wish to do is to be able to bungkus, balut an arm around her like the old times, but anda can't.

"Please."

Her face contorted with pain. "I'm so sorry," she chokes out, and whether it's a sob atau a fit of anger, anda don't know.

She knows you, understands you, so when anda try to reason with her again, she prevents it. Managing a single syllable word, she gives a stiff and firm "Don't," sounding broken-hearted yet so ice cold. "Don't anda even dare."

. . .

"Did anda see that?" He's a scared little boy, and is worth as much as a penny to Him. "Did anda see that monster over there?"

anda sneer at him, and give him one of your cruelest grimaces. "They are your allies, Nakamura, get used to it atau die. Now scurry along."

He does as he's told, and runs off, hands shaking violently at his side.

anda feel no remorse.

. . .

"Oh my gods, what the Hades are anda doing here?" her voice is a screech and tears are already pooling in her eyes (she never had much resolve, anda remember).

anda take in the sight of her, and notice she looks so much lebih raggedy and tired than before. Her face is pale, and she looks unnaturally thin now, her eyes puffy and swollen, big purple bags underneath, her hair mussed, as if she had awoken minit prior.

anda let out a breathless sigh. "I've missed you."

She's shaking her head and rubbing at her eyes, a frown etched into her beautiful features, the words "no, no, no," becoming a near-inaudible mantra under her breath.

anda open your mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Suddenly, as if this surprise meeting becomes too much for the poor girl to handle (your poor little girl, who used to lie her head on your shoulder, telling anda her fantasies and dreams) and she bursts into sobs, unable to cope.

"Oh, no, don't cry. I hate when anda cry," your own tough outer shell is breaking when anda see her cry like that, and your eyes soften, the cruelness gone, replaced with concern.

anda are her friend, her brother, and have nothing left to give; all anda want is to not see her (the still little girl, in your mind) not cry. "Please stop crying," anda plead. "I never liked seeing anda cry."

This brings the sobs on harder, now racking her body and making her hands twitch, arms wrapped around her stomach in a loose embrace.

"Ho-how are anda here?" she asks. "Why are anda here?"

anda say nothing, but reach out to comfort her.

"You can come with me, anda know," anda find yourself saying, begging her to say "yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

But it won't happen, a voice at the back of your head nags, because she's always been better than that.

She's still that little girl, the little girl who was affectionate and friendly; the little girl that has always been better than anda have.

"Wait," longing and pain leak into her voice, a pathetic and desperate plea for reassurance, "why now?"

Because it has to be now.

"You promi—"

I know what I did.

. . .

Power. Pain. Death. Hate.

Sometimes, anda are not sure if this life's worth it;

But, then again, it's only sometimes.
...

A/N: made to "The Great Escape" sejak Patrick Watson. Check it out, it's awesome.

link little snippet from my ongoing drabble collection on fanfiction.net.

[it was Luke, sejak the way]

link: Piper