#2

The deep darkness of the moonless night slowly encroached on the soft silvery hues of dimming stars.

The bloodstained window.

The rattling trees.

The creaking hardwood floors.

Slowly growing darker and darker as the night went by.

'Humans live with a constant feeling of pain inside their hearts, but their hearts are sensitive to pain, so it makes living difficult.'

Leviathan hugged his knees as he lay in a fetal position. His bloodied fist stained his black jeans.

"If I'm not human, what is this pain I feel in my 'heart'? Why must living be so hard for me as well?"

Leviathan murmured softly as a tear slipped down his face and pooled on the floor.

Shattered mirror shards scattered around him, their edges red, reflecting the cold, unforgiving ceiling.

"Humans turn to exorcists in the face of demons,"

Scraping resonated in the silent room, a purple-furred tail moving mirror shards with its minute movements.

"Exorcists turn to saints in the face of calamity,"

A purple-furred ear twitched.

Once.

Twice.

"Everyone turns to me, begrudgingly, in the face of annihilation,"

An open hand closed tightly again. Small particles of glass shifted under his skin, opening closing wounds.

Blood seeped into the wood grain beneath.

"Everyone wants a demon, a monster, the demon heart inside my chest,"

Leviathan, his voice trembling, curled into himself.

"What about 'my' heart?!"

A closed fist gripped his chest tightly; blood poured out in small rivulets.

Uncomfortably.

"What about Leviathan's 'heart'?"

Even as he said it, it felt like swallowing sand.

The shadows stretched longer as the night deepened, blurring the border between the floor and walls, between the walls and the ceiling.

Trapping the curled, sobbing body inside the ink-like dark.

"Who's human? And who's not?"

Blood and tears pooling on the ground.

"When is that decided? And how is that decided?"

The remnants of the mirror hanging on the wall reflected that cat-like tail and those cat-like ears.

"Even though we all are fighting the same war…, even though we all feel the same pain…"

He trailed off as he petted his own ear with his clean hand.

The dim flickering of an old lamppost outside the window illuminated the small room.

An unmade bed.

A half-read open book.

'How can a demon understand emotion?'

Those words reverberated loudly around the silent room, inside his own head.

An innocent comment.

A stray bullet.

Without minding passing ears.

Without minding passing hearts.

"My body does not need, does not yearn, and does not want…,"

Leviathan hugged his own cold body, his own unbeating heart.

"Emotion is all this heart of mine has."

Leviathan defended himself in his own mind, as if the owner of that bullet could hear him.

"If my heart disappeared, if the only heart inside my chest were a demon heart… would they want that 'Leviathan's heart'?"

Leviathan clutched his own chest, over his heart, his nails clawing at the naked skin.

Small beads of blood surrounded his heart like a crimson halo.