Darkness, everywhere. Malicious golden eyes, peering from the void. And the butterflies, fuck, of course, the butterflies. Stupid, stupid dreams. Stupid choices, stupid people causing chaos and running off. The only solace in the pit was the presences of a bespectacled, bloodstained boy and the violet haired girl he was still holding on to.

[color=82ca9d][i]I … I need to find a way out,[/i][/color] he thought, [i][color=82ca9d]I…[/color][/i]

I? Something’s off.

[center][i]"A simple test; can you state your name?"[/i][/center]

[color=82ca9d]“Would that let me out?”[/color] Should be simple enough.

[color=82ca9d]“My name is-“[/color]

[color=f6989d]“You absolute jerk!”[/color]

Huh? 

A young girl’s voice rang out.

[color=f6989d]“Why would you say that, _____-kun? Kana-chan’s going to be taken away from her dad because of what you told the teachers. You ruined everything!”[/color]

Confused frustration builds. A young boy speaks this time. It was him, years ago.

[color=82ca9d]“Come on, everyone already knew. Kana-chan gets bruises on her arms all the time and none of you had the guts to point it out. If any of you actually took some time to investigate like I did, this whole mess would have been fixed ages ago.”[/color]

A girl crying. Jeers and scorn from classmates.

[color=ed145b]“You didn’t fix anything!”[/color] [color=bc8dbf]“Yeah, you wrecked her family, you creep!” [/color]

A door slammed open. Running, people yelling after him. The place near the bridge, a safe haven. A place to cry without anyone seeing.

A newfound conviction. No one deserved his help. That’s all he was trying to do, help, and look at what he received. No one cared about him and that was fine. There was no one else to worry about, no one to stab him in the back or drag him down. He pushed down the lingering desire to go back, to hang out with his friends like he used to, to apologise for his hasty actions. But if he showed any signs of weakness, it would only get worse.

[i]Who am I?[/i] [color=82ca9d]“I’m A-“[/color]

[color=a0410d]“FUCKING MONSTER, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM?”[/color]

A teenage boy is on the ground, clutching his hip area. A boy with a bloody mouth is screaming at a student wearing a green cardigan cowering behind a teacher. The teacher berates the screaming boy.

[color=aba000]“Enough of this nonsense. I’ll not have you throwing baseless accusations at _____-kun like this. Get yourselves to the infirmary at once. I expect a full explanation afterwards, hopefully one that doesn’t denounce the person that was the first to bring assistance. You should be learning from his example, instead of getting into fights like this.”[/color]

The boy with the bloody face opens his mouth to deliver another tirade but the almost undetectable glint of the box cutter’s blade in the cardigan wearing boy’s hand stops the words from coming out. 

Bloody-mouth helps his friend limp to the infirmary while the teacher huffs off back to the staff room. As the teacher turns the corner, the cardigan boy discards his fearful visage and murmurs to the injured teens. They glare as they shuffle past, so the cardiganed boy mutters something only they could hear.

[color=82ca9d]“I warned you.”[/color]

They rush off after that. The box cutter will have to be disposed of, somewhere far, far from school. The victim of that blade had been stabbed just next to the pelvis, the weapon twisted roughly enough to leave the him unable to walk properly for a long time, effectively ruining any dreams of a middle school baseball career. The blood covered brick piece that's hidden in the nearby bushes will need to be binned too.

There was no joy gained from these heinous deeds. But there was no remorse either. Whatever it took to ensure his safety and happiness, the boy in green would do it with no hesitation. His compassion for the human race had been stunted for a long time now.

[i]But what was his name? Who was he?[/i]

Another memory. Someone complimenting his sketch of a riverbank. A false smile and a false humble response in return. How long had it been since he had smiled for real? An ear-to-ear grin, with his nose scrunched up the way it used to always do. He couldn’t remember. There was no heart put into his work. It was just a matter of observation, putting whatever he saw onto paper, using techniques practiced for hours in the dark of the night. People liked artists and with his observant eyes, it was the obvious hobby for him.

[i]Who was he?[/i]

[color=82ca9d]“It’s easier than you think” [/color]

This voice addressed him directly now. It sounded familiar. It was his own.

[color=82ca9d]“An identity is what you are, right? Not what people think you are, maybe not even what [i]you[/i] think you are, but the essence of the soul itself,”[/color]

The voice chuckles.

[color=82ca9d]“Ah, what a shame that yours is so murky.”[/color]

The shadows are moving in.

[color=82ca9d]“You love nothing and no one. You closed off your heart long ago to keep it safe, yet you forgot to open it when everything was finally ok. You lost yourself,”[/color]

More shadows.

[color=82ca9d]“You want to know who, no, what you are?”[/color]

[center]“You’re whatever you need yourself to be.”[/center]

A ball of play doh, letting others make of him whatever they wanted to see. A chalkboard, completely blank unless something needed to change to benefit others. A remorseless saboteur that struck from the shadows in the most cowardly way possible. An airheaded dreamer that had a knack for the arts. A kid that wanted to be loved, who did everything with the best of intentions for his friends.

Which one was it?

“Heh, who knows?” he smiled wistfully.

He closed his eyes as the shadows lunged.