Disloyal Orders [Ariel]

I'm coming apart at the seams
Pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams now
Buzz, buzz, buzz
Doc, there's a hole where something was
Doc, there's a hole where something was

The anger had almost left him now. The terrible, unreasonable, dark rage that had filled him ever since he had accepted the fact that she was gone. She had left him, and he had felt nothing but sadness and betrayal, until the anger had come. It had boiled in him, deep and horrible as he wished nothing more than to cause the same pain on her as she had caused to him. (Nothing had helped the feeling, and eventually even the reason that normally kept him so grounded had given up.) It was scaring him as much as it enthralled him. He had no real reason to feel such spite, and yet how could he not after she had just up and left him. She had left him. (It still hurt to think about, still caused the same anger to begin to rise once more.) Only a shaky deep breath and the thought that nothing would help pushed it aside.

Back when she had first left, (or gone missing he had thought at the time,) he had fervently searched for her, giving up his comfort for hours of fruitless searches even knowing that he would not feel any more relaxed if he were at home. (His parents never understood, they had never met her, they hadn't even known about her.) It didn't matter though, they never cared for him. (Not like he thought she did anyway.) After he had finally found out that she had really just left, (without a backwards glance or a second thought,) he had broken down. He had been a mess, but then the anger had come. However, the anger hadn't swept the pain aside, it had instead drawn it as fuel until it burned itself out. Even now the ashes still smoked in the pit of his heart, the coals of what used to be love still glowed angry red, miserable and waiting for any excuse to burst into flames again.

But that was not why he was here. In fact, it was out of habit that he had now come to where he was. After all those months of first panicked, then angry, treading of the streets in an attempt to calm himself, he now wandered aimlessly in the constant battle between wanting to fight and wanting to get rid of the hatred inside of him. It wouldn't help him any to fight, though he might feel better for it. He was restless, and nothing held his attention for more than a few moments. He didn't focus on his training, what was the point when everything would only remind him of her, he didn't work out anymore, unless the countless laps around the District counted for anything, he didn't even interact with anyone, not without a sneer and some backhanded complement or insult anyhow. This wasn't Rolex Ghram who was around, it was someone foreign, and he wasn't sure whether he liked his new self or not.

(Corners, turns, twists and laneways.) They all blurred as he walked, his eyes focused on some point out of existence while his feet followed their own path. He still had his balance, and his sense for the presence of others, even as his head was far from where his body was. He didn't run into anyone, dodged those who came too close and avoided being run down by cars and people who didn't watch where they were going. His eyes were unfocused, adding to the blur the world held for him. Nothing mattered to him, just his pain, his rage, and his need for closure. (But what was closure, and how could he get it.) There was no way around it, he would have to just accept that she was gone. She had left him, and now it was time to move on. (Just as she obviously had.) But how?

Moving on meant forgetting, blocking the memories he had once held so dear but now considered poison. It was painful to think about forgetting their love, but the pain of betrayal was so much worse that he thought maybe it was worth it. If only there were some way he could just do something to erase this pain, the memories might be able to stay, if only they didn't hurt so bad. Still, even glue wouldn't be able to work on his heart, it wasn't broken. It had been put through a shredder and gotten mixed with all of the little strips of paper. (It seemed so unnecessary now, a heart, perhaps it would just be best to abandon hope on mending himself and just get used to living with that bit missing.) If people were able to live without missing limbs, he could live without a heart. (Who needed to care, who needed to feel?)

Fell out of bed,
Butterfly bandage, but don't worry
You'll never remember
Your head is far too blurry.