EL_A_iN;AJO:R-N_EL

We were once a happy family. But I wasn't.

I wanted the best for my mother and my father. My younger sister and brother. I cared so much about them. My mother was a talented cook, and my father a blacksmith. My younger sister, although naive, was smart enough to protect my little brother from danger. But I wanted to be left alone. No one understood that I wanted to be left alone.

In our village, we pride on accomplishments and support in this dying world. This dying planet was once something that we cherished. A great deal of care has been made to ensure that everyone survives, no matter how harsh the time is. A great deal of care would have changed the minds of those around us. To protect and serve. To live and harvest. To thrive and nurture.

There was one exception. He was a man who never accepted the word "no."

He always complimented the lime-green dress mother made for me on my twenty-first birthday. Our jobs clashed with one another, and he would always say hello. Sometimes, he would frequently visit our family more than often, and my father would have to do more work than usual to get him out.

I understood what was happening, but they didn't.

It has become a time of sadness. Two days passed after I made that mermaid doll for my baby sister. I wanted to give it to her, but I felt his presence. He was watching me on the way home, so I ran.

I ran and ran and ran. The bushes rattled. The vibration stirred my empty ears. My footsteps were not safe. I had to clear them. Even in night.

I fell. I dropped it. The only gift that my sister would have loved, and I ran.

Someone stopped me. It wasn't him. It was someone from the village hunting for what little meat remained from the world. He was a good man.

I told him my sorrows. My misery. My pain. No one from the village could understand but him. He carried the little white flowers behind his backpack as a sign of good fortune and luck. He gave me one and asked me to return home. I didn't want to go alone. So I asked him to return with me.

The monsters attacked. We ran. I couldn't see him in the pitch black darkness. I was so happy that someone understood my pain. But there was always something in my life that ruined that sense of relief, and I had enough of it.

I never heard from him as I returned. No bushes rattling, no vibrations stirring, no footsteps being traced. I was angry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to end it there. No one would have to listen to my pain ever again and die from it. It was my fault.

I held one of my father's blades. It was his most prized possession. A blade rumored to be held by a legendary knight who was powerful in the magical arts. It was a myth. But I wanted to do it in the middle of the town where everyone could see. Hopefully someone would stop me. Someone who cared.

I dragged the blade and prepared myself. But then, he came. The man who couldn't say no.

The courier was a happy fellow. Always watching. Always touching.

I remembered. I was a child. He was always there. Watching. Touching.

After school. Watching. Touching.

In my sleep. Watching. Touching.

And I remembered all of it.

In the midst of the darkness, he kneeled down and held a ring toward me, along with a white petal from a flower. It was that same flower. From the one who listened.

I always believed that our abnormal minds would forget the past with the present of our planet, but I was wrong. It seems that the mind is so quick to attach itself to the delusions of pleasure that one man, a man who could never leave me alone, asked for my hand.

I didn't want it. So I killed him. I stabbed him through the heart and watched as he bled out. And I stood there smiling. I wanted it.

The village heard his screams. They ran out and watched me drop the blade to the floor. My hands were riddled in blood. The metallic scent. The sight of horror. All so worth it.

But they did not think so. They pointed their fingers at me and screamed "Bloody Murder!"

I had faith in them. I knew they had pride, but not even pride could wash away their delusions. But I was wrong. They didn't understand. I told them the truth. They didn't listen. They refused to listen.

The last person I ever wanted to see me do this was my baby brother and sister. But they were there, along with my mother and father, and they pointed at me too. Calling me names. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. They wouldn't stop.

But they didn't understand. I gave them everything, and now, they took away everything. They were my family. So I cried to them. I did not mean to do it. I didn't do it. I couldn't stop saying it.

But they ignored me. They released me into this abandoned tower. I could see nothing but emptiness. At first, I was sad. But I realized that I was alone. And that's what I always wanted.

I sat there and wondered if they would ever realize the error of their ways. The monster who haunted me. He deserved it.

I didn't have anyone to talk to. Here I rest, back laid against this tree. I was lonely. I talked to it. I peered into it. I saw something shining inside. Something peaked my curiosity.

The tree spoke to me. I spoke. It understood me. It was just like that man who saved me. I offered it gifts. I offered it wishes. There was only one wish that I wanted.

All I wanted was for that monster to bleed. I remember that day, blood in my palm, blood all around, death incarnate. I wanted everyone to see his blood. I wanted everyone to understand.

The tree is now holding something. It's touching me too. But something is wrong.

Cethe, Damian, if you find this, I hope you will all live happy lives. None of you deserved to see it. I know you cared.

The tree is moving. I feel my heart stopping. I think something's happening