.

.

.

"Life sucks, and then you die"

- Stephanie Meyer

.

.

.

I remember being surrounded by motivational help posters as a voice of honey drawled on and on. The sounds of a sharp heel clacked back and forth in a rhythmic state. My hands gripped the arms of the chair so strongly that my knuckles would start to prove pristine white. My heart attacked my rib cage in a fury of beats.

I remember thinking back on this practically one-sided conversation as I made one mistake after the other. Mistakes that would inevitably lead to a demise. My demise.

You choose what happens to you.

Was that… True?

In retrospect, it was my decision to wander the dangerous streets at nights. And we all know that wandering purposeless could only bring despair… And despair it brought.

Keep your head down and your nose clean.

The darkness could only be quenched by the bar at the end of the block, screaming with color and life. Through the dark of night, it proved to be my beacon of hope.

My mind a battleground, my heart of longing, my lungs suffocating in despair. I'd never meant any trouble, but does anyone really…?

I'd hoped that just one drink would drive away the darkness within me.

I won't tell you that you can do whatever you put your mind to, because, you just can't.

But one wasn't enough, one would never be enough. If I kept going, surely the light would shine through?

So I continued, drowning my sorrows away in a futile attempt to see the light within myself once more. And futile it was… As I continued to sink deeper and deeper and deeper.

Yes, I chose this. I chose to go stumbling around in the streets in the pitch blackness of night.

But if you focus and stick to yourself, surely something positive will come from your efforts.

Blindly, the darkness led me through alleyways and clumsily over fences. They led me to knives and guns and bloodied mistakes. Struggling screams of mercy and my old friend despair.

My sorrows were never far away, a constant whisper forceful enough to stop me whilst in a sluggish movement.

A whisper which turned into a voice which turned into a yell which morphed into a scream.

Just remember…

Sickening crunches of bones and skin breaking filled the once silent night. A bottle tumbled from my nimble fingers.

I screamed, blood spewing from my vocal chords. I screamed for the bottle. I screamed at the men. I screamed for my sorrows residing in the bottle. I screamed because they were about to tumble out…

As the bottle of despair shattered… So did a heart.

Curiosity killed the cat…

.

.

.

Everything was dark.

Everything was silent.

For a long time, everything I saw, everything I heard… It all matched up with what I was on the inside.

I don't just how much time passed. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, it could've even been years. Maybe it was just one second.

But one is never quite enough.

My mind stirred, becoming restless and anxious. The darkness creeped on my soul, filling me with irrational worries that began to seem more and more rational each passing— second, day?

Then the questions started to attack.

Where am I?

Why is it so dark here, why is it always so dreadfully dark..?

Am I dead?

.

Is this Hell?

But this couldn't be Hell, I'd tell myself, because if I were in Hell then surely I would feel something?

Part of me thought that even Hell had to be better than just sitting in this overpowering darkness. It had to be more satisfying than waiting all alone…

.

More time passed, and most of the questions left me to rot. All except for one, one held my soul with its constant whispering.

Who am I?

.

Am I… real?

.

I tried to whisper back, sometimes. I tried to yell. I tried to scream. I would do anything to fill the daunting cloud of silence that hung in the blackness.

But the silence was stronger.

.

The darkness is beginning to fold around me, cling to me. It brings me warmth, and a sense of comfort— if I pretend it's a hug.

.

I can't quite remember any color besides the one that consumes me. What did they call it… Black. Yeah, black.

.

When things got bad in life, we could wish for death. But what can you wish for when things get bad in death..?

.

A voice in my head laughs. I fear it knows something that I don't.

.

I remember shards of glass, and I hear maniacal voices of pure glee. It brings back a feeling that I'd thought was long forgotten.

.

I wonder… had my previous dwelling just been a bunch of pictures and colors and words strewn together? Had all of the people just been something I made up? Life is but a dream…

.

Just when I think the darkness has started to suffocate me, my world explodes in color and sound. Voices pound against my eardrums, and a heart thumps in my skull. I open my mouth and hear the air as I gulp it down thankfully.

Skinny, frail arms hold me to their chest. The colors of the world swirl and blur until beginning to focus. My sight hurts the way they would when looking out upon a desert of snow.

But I see through the pain, and my eyes focus.

The frail arms belong to a woman, a woman of snow and of beauty. She radiates weakness and exhaustion, but manages to smile and utter one single word.

"Yukine."

Is that… Who I am?

… But satisfaction brought it back.

A/N

Okay, I told myself I wouldn't write this, but it's been nagging at me for a really long time. So here it is.

This is a reincarnation fic, if this chapter does seem a little... insane. And it'll be a male OC.

I can tell you right now that this won't be a happy story where the OC jumps right into the plot with all of the good characters and decides to change everything for the better. Especially considering the things I'll be putting this OC through. We'll get to see just how hard it truly would be to survive in this world.

But, anyway, I'll probably only actually continue this story if I get a review or follows/favorites. If I know someone's interested in this story, I'll really work hard to get chapters out.

See ya :)