IT'S THE HEART OF A GUN / fire

[spacexual]

IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE DONE IT [align=right]BUT YOU CAN'T KNOW WHY    —    tags 

It is all so loud, yet, somehow, through all that sound, he can make out one voice. It slices into his senses like a dagger, his breath catching. The words it is making out exactly, he is not so sure, but he does know, now, of the person it belongs to. Or, at least, of the power they hold over him. The power he trusts them with. One that had been overridden with fear and pain, only hours before. But the more time went on, the more he scratches at himself, his mind racing with various memories and beliefs. Instincts and thoughts at war, body confused and overwhelmed more than it has been since the moments leading to...
leading to his death.

But he is alive now.
And he's hurting others. He's hurting those he cares for. He has been making the wrong choices.

The tiger's head shoots upward, hot tears falling from his glowing eyes, blending into the spirals of flames licking at his sides. "I-" his voice is weak, choking back from the mixture of mucus and smoke. He needs help. But he doesn't deserve it. He didn't work for it. He can't ask for it.

He trembles, staring towards his father with an agonized, helpless expression. He was given a second chance, and he cannot even use it correctly. His gaze is locked upon the lion above, body curling further into itself. The flames only grow larger. He is terrified of himself.

And he is so useless for it.

He is so tired of being useless, destructive. A weapon...he didn't want it. He didn't want to be it at all. He didn't want to hurt. But all he kept doing was hurt, and hurt, and hurt, and he didn't know how to change anymore. He didn't know how to control it. It kept coming back. "I'm-" he's trying to say something, and he is not even so sure what it is. His body cannot figure it out.

He inhales sharply, focusing upon the familiar figure above him. Oh, he is so tired. He is hurting him again, and again. "Please..." he is whispering to himself now. Make it stop. His eyes close tight now, teeth baring as his head hits the ground, and suddenly, he feels the earth around him tremble. He feels it shift and now the burning plants around him shoot outward and upward, piercing through the flames, vines curling around the heat quickly and violently until, within moments, it all stops. The flames are seemingly crushed away, only burning ashes remaining, and the now overgrown foliage collapses upon itself, too, leaves and twigs landing over the boy.

The noise, too, disappears. And now, all of a sudden, it is just him, and his father, and the rest of his newfound home.

The boy's head remains in the ground, body shaking uncontrollably. "I-I'm...n-not supposed to be hh-here." His body lets out, with seemingly no warning, or even context. It would be several moments before he spoke again. "I died." He whispers this, eyes opening once more, staring to his side as if in shock at his own revelation. "...a long time ago."