A/N: Just a short little drabble I thought of while in math. ^_^ Enjoy.
Disclaimer: EDWARD IS MINE! MUAHAHAHA! *Takes Medication*
Dangit. He's the brainchild of the fabulous Tim Burton. *Curls up in fetal position and cries*
He was lonely. Of course he would be, all by himself day, after day, after day, night after night, after night. Sometimes it got so bad he couldn't move, and he stood there, paralyzed, until he thought of warm brown eyes. Eyes that, he reminded himself, he would see again soon, when she came to visit.
He was angry, at times. Angry at the townspeople for accepting him, giving him hope, before throwing him away like trash to be forgotten. Angry at Jim, for breaking into his mansion, his sanctuary. Angry at Jim for hurting his Kim. For hurting him. Angry at Peg, for bringing him down into the town in the first place. Sure, he was lonely before, but he had never known human companionship before. He hadn't known what it truly was, being lonely. And once, for the briefest moment, he had been angry at Kim. His sweet, beautiful Kim, who never came to visit. Not once.
He felt guilty. He had hurt Kim. Sliced her hand open, and made her bleed. He had never meant to, of course, but that didn't negate the fact that he had done it. He had hurt Kevin. The boy would probably be scarred for the rest of his life, just like himself. He had torn up that person's tires, and frightened Esmeralda. And of course, he had killed Jim. He never really wanted to kill Jim, just hurt him, like he had hurt Kim. But instead, he killed him, snuffed out his life with almost no effort. The wreckage below him on the ground a lasting reminder that his hands were not just for cutting hair, leaves and ice.
He was depressed. Crushingly, achingly so. His father was dead, his body still in the bed, where he had laid him to rest, still confused why his father wouldn't wake up. On the worst days, he wondered if Kim ever even loved him. After all, he was a freak, a monster. One to be despised and sent to the shadows, not someone to be loved, and dance in the light.
He was ashamed. Ashamed for his hands, like they were somehow his fault. And it probably was, he had probably screwed thing up like he always did. Ashamed for his face, pale and crisscrossed with scars, because he hadn't learned how to use his hands properly yet. He was ugly, a perversion of nature. A demon. An unholy creation of Satan.
He looked around, at his straw bed, and the faded photos around it. At the cookie machine, the large hole in the roof, where he could see the dazzling stars. He wished to be one of those stars. Alone, up in the sky, out of harm's reach. Simply glimmering and shimmering, and waltzing with the moon and sun. Nimbly chasing each other across the sky. As he gazed he spotted a shooting star, he turned his back on it. He had no more wishes.
He felt these things, and more as he gazed down on the twinkling lights of Suburbia. He felt lonely, and angry, and ashamed, and sad. He sighed and looked down at his dreaded hands, the scissors that stood in place of fingers. Edward stood up slowly, and silently went to tend to his garden once more. Silver tears slipping down his pale face, and catching in the grooves of his scars before landing with soft plops on his dully gleaming "hands".
A/N: Review or I will send the man-eating chinchillas of doom to feast on your soul. And be nice. Criticism is welcome, but this is my first fanfic, so don't flame me. That is all.
PS: I LOVE YOU ALL
PPS: Avenged Sevenfold Rocks
PPPS: Man, what does PPPS even stand for? Aha, LOL! That's enough of that!