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31_days2008-02-17 09:19 am
candy--chan.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-02-17 09:19 am
[Feb. 17] [Detective Conan] With Intent
Title: With Intent
Day/Theme: Feb 17: “All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.”
Series: Detective Conan
Character/Pairing: Shinichi
Rating: R/M
There were a lot of people out in the corridor right now.
Good.
Shinichi slipped out of his room and melded into the mixture of nurses, doctors and patients milling about. He unconsciously huddled further down into himself as he moved amidst the people. Certainly someone would notice that he was there and what he was doing.
But no—he moved unnoticed, save for a nurse who recognized him and waved to him. He waved back, mustering up the weakest of smiles. She didn’t seem bothered by his lack of enthusiasm, and kept on walking. Given his state, his reaction was probably exactly as expected.
Still, it meant that she hadn’t seen through him. She had not guessed at his plan.
He allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief and kept moving.
It was something he had first thought of back in the dark days of his imprisonment, when he was alone and stripped of everything that was his—including his freedom and his identity. And he had wanted to die as the only viable means of escape from that horrid place.
Now he was in the hospital. He was safe here, surrounded by those who said they worried about him.
…but did they really? He knew they were concerned to some extent, but…they had to be tired of it all. He had given them nothing back for their time and energy. He was still hurt, still mute…still hopeless…he could not speak to them and ask. He couldn’t understand how they tolerated him.
Defiled.
And they didn’t know the worst of it—they didn’t know he had killed another person. He was no better than the murderers he himself had spent so much time and energy to catch back when he had been wholly himself. If anything, he was worse than them.
Damned.
There was a scalpel in his pocket. He had managed to get ahold of it by luck, though he had been looking for an option. It was hard to come by in places like these. But he had been able to secure this one from a cart wheeled by a nurse in the corridor without her noticing.
And he knew where he was going to do it as well. He had gone there once before for some air, and realized that it was really the best place for his purposes now. Taking a deep breath, he put his foot on the first stair and began to climb with definite intent.
The hospital roof wasn’t ideal, but he could be alone up there. It was a good enough place for it.
No one would have to deal with him anymore. And he wouldn’t have to deal with himself.
It was a good enough place to be his tomb.
It was a good enough place to die.
Day/Theme: Feb 17: “All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.”
Series: Detective Conan
Character/Pairing: Shinichi
Rating: R/M
There were a lot of people out in the corridor right now.
Good.
Shinichi slipped out of his room and melded into the mixture of nurses, doctors and patients milling about. He unconsciously huddled further down into himself as he moved amidst the people. Certainly someone would notice that he was there and what he was doing.
But no—he moved unnoticed, save for a nurse who recognized him and waved to him. He waved back, mustering up the weakest of smiles. She didn’t seem bothered by his lack of enthusiasm, and kept on walking. Given his state, his reaction was probably exactly as expected.
Still, it meant that she hadn’t seen through him. She had not guessed at his plan.
He allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief and kept moving.
It was something he had first thought of back in the dark days of his imprisonment, when he was alone and stripped of everything that was his—including his freedom and his identity. And he had wanted to die as the only viable means of escape from that horrid place.
Now he was in the hospital. He was safe here, surrounded by those who said they worried about him.
…but did they really? He knew they were concerned to some extent, but…they had to be tired of it all. He had given them nothing back for their time and energy. He was still hurt, still mute…still hopeless…he could not speak to them and ask. He couldn’t understand how they tolerated him.
Defiled.
And they didn’t know the worst of it—they didn’t know he had killed another person. He was no better than the murderers he himself had spent so much time and energy to catch back when he had been wholly himself. If anything, he was worse than them.
Damned.
There was a scalpel in his pocket. He had managed to get ahold of it by luck, though he had been looking for an option. It was hard to come by in places like these. But he had been able to secure this one from a cart wheeled by a nurse in the corridor without her noticing.
And he knew where he was going to do it as well. He had gone there once before for some air, and realized that it was really the best place for his purposes now. Taking a deep breath, he put his foot on the first stair and began to climb with definite intent.
The hospital roof wasn’t ideal, but he could be alone up there. It was a good enough place for it.
No one would have to deal with him anymore. And he wouldn’t have to deal with himself.
It was a good enough place to be his tomb.
It was a good enough place to die.