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To Yourself Be

By Jadestar


In violent times
You shouldn't have to sell your soul
In black and white
They really really ought to know

It was crushing him. Sparky could literally feel something inside him crunch, like he was a piece of paper and he was being squished into a ball and thrown into the bin, lid slamming down loudly to leaving him in the dark. This wasn't him. Oh, Drake, don't let this awful person be me...

He was a thief. A common, ordinary, petty thug. The lowest of the low. The dirt. The dust. The mud.

He stood slowly. Something was about to happen... He could feel it.

Where was his mother? Where was his father? Where was Cassidy? He wanted them so badly, most of all his parents... Cassidy was always away, home in Gacia... His parents were always there.

"Mum..." The word escaped him before he could stop it.

Fifteen... He was fifteen today. What a wonderful birthday. No one knew... Though maybe his parents were alive somewhere, what then? Maybe they had a present for him, maybe the baby wasn't dead after all... maybe... maybe...

Maybe fels went swimming in the wintertime...

You're grasping at straws... You're losing it, you have been for months...

That hit him in the stomach with a solid thud, mostly because he knew it was true.

He needed -someone-... Marshall was too busy going to pieces himself... He had no one...

Why was he staying here?

Because they would kill him if he left.

Why had he come here in the first place?

To avoid being killed.

Oh, the irony made him smile even now.

But wasn't this a kind of death? Losing your family and friends, then losing your beliefs? Losing your mind, slowly, painfully, drip by drip, cell by cell...

He started packing his backpack, barely conscious of the decision to leave, just aware that he was going to.

Those one track minds
That took you for a working boy
Kiss them goodbye
You shouldn't have to jump for joy

He stared at himself in the mirror. Skinny. Large soft brown eyes. Pale, pale white feathers. In contrast, sharp, angry hair. Tall but harmless.

I don't belong here. I never did.

They saved you...

They're good people... really, deep down they are...

"They don't really want to kill you, Kiyo."


"They don't want to kill you, Kiyo."

It had been a long time since he had last heard that pet name. "Dad? If... you're here somehow, tell me what to do..."

The little voice in his head was no more. He twisted his face in pain. He really was going crazy.

The inside of the door was cold and smooth. He ran his hand along it, waiting for whatever had been pushing him so far at 3am to move again.

He was going to leave, he was just waiting for something inside to let him. He hoped it wouldn't take long. Standing on a cliff like this was nerve-racking. He wanted to jump.

It was going to be a shame, in some respects. After all, hadn't they taken him in, and fed him, and kept him safe? Hadn't Marshall and the others gone out of their way to help him? Didn't he owe them something? By leaving now, what was he doing? Forcing their hand, when he knew they were fairer than the martial law above ground.

Was he Kiyo or Sparky? White or black? Light or dark? Good or bad? Child or adult?

Son or orphan?

I'm a son... Let me be someone's son...

The door closed behind him, on a bare empty room.

They gave you life
And in return you gave them Hell
As cold as ice
I hope we live to tell the tale


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