Justice

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He's going to come out on top one day, that's what he tells himself.

One day, he will hold the power, and he will crush the others like ants, those who laughed at him, those who scorned him, those who unfairly accused him of something he didn't do.

Fitting justice, he thinks. And it will be served.

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A stable hand wasn't much of a job to start out with, but it would have to do.

It doesn't fit him.

Being on the bottom, being ordered around, being binded. He hates it so much, but of course not as much as he hates his enemies.

Evil. Enemies. Everyone. Even his own family. They have betrayed him. And every evil merits appropriate justice.

But not yet. He would wait.

And so his free time was spent like that, scheming and planning in the rare free moments of the day (and crippling, crippling emotions he'd never admit to himself at night–loneliness and jealousy).

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He remembers– though he doesn't really want to– those horrible, horrible days after the fire.

He had been in an angry, hurt sort of daze then, and it didn't help how he rejected human company for a time after that. Even his youngest, favorite sister, Jane. (Yes, he regretted that, but what was there to do about it now? She was innocent. He didn't want to drag her into his problems.)

Who wouldn't have done the same thing, though? The very foundations of his trust in the human race had been broken.

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Stop it! Don't think I can't hear you all whispering behind my back! You thing that I'm wrong, that I'm suspicious, evil– well, for your information, you're the only evil ones here!

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"What do I live for?" That was the first thing he'd said to her.

She didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Didn't need to answer, because soon she was the answer.

She redeemed him from the depths, pulled him back from the cliff that led to insanity. The only one to ever reach out to him. (Truthfully, it wasn't like he had ever let anyone else do the same thing.)

It was a happy two years. And then it was over.

And he was alone again– only this time, with a son barely three months old with him.

For a while, he was truly lost.

What do I do now?

The skies of the future were cloudy. He found himself in a daze yet again, swallowing coffee without truly drinking it.

And then, he'd sworn he'd get back on track, get revenge on his enemies. Rightful justice. He smiled at the thought.

Now, not only for himself, but for his beloved wife and son.

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Opportunities came, and when they did, he grabbed at them hard. Soon, he was steadily climbing the political ladder. He had no qualms about squashing others who were in his way. Whatever it would take, he'd do it to succeed.

And as he went up, he became more and more aware of the lies and dirt that coated court life.

It disgusted him.

"Are you satisfied with this?" he wanted to scream out loud.

He remembers back to his youth's dream– to build an fair and just empire. He would soon be in a position to do that. Especially the justice. He eagerly anticipated the justice.

"If you break the rules, will something change?"

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And so he builds. He becomes an adviser to none other than the king himself.

There, stealthily, carefully, he strikes.

But he takes it slow, of course, so none may detect it. Slowly, surely, he is eliminating evil from the world. A self-satisfied smile grows on his lips at the thought.

He enjoys (pretending) being justice that beats down evil.

(It's only a shield that lets him relieve some of the stress, that boiling pressure of unvoiced, unshared words and emotions inside of him.)

And no one sees through his stupid act.

But the world is poisoned, deep, deep to the core, with stinking sin. He hates it. He will eliminate it.

Even the ones standing beside him are enemies.

Evil.

He won't accept this.

(And yet, secretly, at night, he is still crippled by loneliness and jealousy. Jealousy of those who are loved. Jealousy of his enemies.)

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At length, he realizes that everything he'd been doing was hypocrisy.

Is he not as evil as any of his enemies?

What am I doing right now?

He doesn't know.

I don't know anything anymore. What is truth and what is a lie?

It all comes down to the same thing, in the end. The future is dark, this time.

What is life even worth?

They laugh at him, he pushes them away. Screams at them. He's right, they're wrong, why do they judge him?

He'd lost everything. His family, his love, his, trust, his compassion, his humanity–

And now he's losing what is perhaps the last thing he has left. His sanity.

And then he realizes he doesn't care.

Let us sing and dance, scream and shout, laugh and be jealous, go insane and sleep until we rot away. What is Good and what is Evil? I don't know, don't care. What is existence worth?

I'm jealous. Jealous. Jealous.

Everything I did was only for my self-satisfaction...

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There is absolutely no meaning to this.

There is absolutely no sin to this.

There is absolutely no story to this.

There is absolutely no lesson from this.

There is nothing to this.

Now, put this down and go on with your lives because this thing you call a "fanfic" has never existed.

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A/N: Hold on! There's still a review button down there!

Anyway, this is based of Paradichlorobenzene, a (Japanese) Vocaloid song, sung by Kagamine Len, and produced by Owata-P.
Go check it out and revel in the delicious insanity.

If you liked this, well, I'm planning a bigger fic soon based off the Benzene Series (yes, series). Expect to see it soon~

Ahaha... I'm still new to posting fics, so tell me if there are any formatting problems or such.

Please tell me what you think of this!

-CitizenOfHedwigpolis