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@hadjalterdoneanythingwrong
No.
Take all you want, 'cause I'm devoid of anything. You don't contain no empathy. I'm starved for anything that makes me feel alive. Drain me of every memory. All I wanted... was some faith in me. Now all that I could ask for is for you to fucking let me be. How much farther underwater can I sink? I'll never know. Now I can barely hold on; what I need is strength to let go. All I ever wanted was for you to have some faith in me. Tell me why you can't just let this be.
An Open Letter to Those Who Will Never See It
I've had this scheduled for a very special day.
The five year anniversary of what I've called "the dark age" of my life.
Chances are, if you're reading this, I'm long gone already.
This is my final goodbye.
From this blog? From this site? From this Earth? Who knows?
I just needed to get my words out there.
Where do I begin...
To those happy few who actively followed my Servant blogs, thank you for everything.
Your tags and asks were the kindling that kept the fire alive, even in their final moments.
Sorry to say, but if I'm putting all cards on the table, there's one guy in particular that comes to mind above the rest. He probably knows who he is.
I'm sorry I couldn't power through on your support alone, everyone. Vaiśravaṇa knows I wanted to.
...There are going to be names from here on out. I'll put the rest under the cut. I'm baring all of my scars here. Only read if you're ready.
Jeanne rushed down the hall, making her way to the medical bay.
It had been days since the incident; weeks, even. Every day she came here, praying for things to be better.
And every day, not a single god answered.
"How is she?" She asked, stepping inside without hesitation.
Roman, Da Vinci, Mash, and Merry sat by an occupied bed. Merry's hand clung to the hand of the girl in the bed. None of them gave any response.
"...Well?" Jeanne repeated. "How is she?"
"Jeanne..." Mash whispered. Her voice quivered, as if she herself was on the verge of screaming.
"She can't still be stuck like this. She can't." Jeanne's voice maintained the same volume, but something was still rising deep within it; whether it was panic or fury, no one could tell. "We're Chaldea. There's no way we'd just let her—"
"Jeanne," Roman interjected, "you've known longer than anyone else that she's something beyond us. Whatever happened to her, if it was powerful enough to hurt her—"
"Then we'll hit back even harder as soon as she wakes up!"
The lights flickered and dimmed. The air grew warmer.
"You can't tell me there's nothing we can do, not after everything we've already accomplished! We've come so far, and I'm not about to let some—"
"Jeanne."
Merry's voice was the quietest, yet it cut through the air like nothing else could. Jeanne immediately stopped talking as Merry's eyes went from her lifelong partner to her partner's Servant.
"...Please. Let her rest."
"...Merry..." Jeanne stepped closer. "...you can't tell me... you can't tell me you're content to just sit here. You..."
"I'm not content." Merry's voice cracked. Her eyes flickered with flames, both burning blood red and a somber, dulled blue. "...But I... we don't have a choice."
"Like hell we don't—"
"Jeanne." Steam poured out from Merry's eyes, trailing up to the ceiling. Her tears were burning away before they could escape. "I'm asking you... as someone who loved her just as much as you did—"
"Stop." Jeanne's voice also broke. She got even closer. "Don't... say it like that. You still love her. I still love her. She isn't gone. She isn't gone! She..."
Her eyes gazed down at the girl in the bed.
Her fiery orange hair, pulled into a sidetail with a deep sapphire-blue scrunchie.
Her face, scarred in many places, yet still soft and unbetraying of any age.
Even her hands seemed as soft as they were the day Jeanne met her.
But there was hardly any color left in her skin.
No light left in the soul of her Master.
Deep down she knew.
She knew that Ritsuka Fujimaru was dead.
The girl I love is gone.
I would like to think she died in my arms, but I know better.
Even now, the ones who killed her play the victim, yet still find time to play me off like a joke.
They took her life.
They took her body.
They took everything from me.
I wonder if they somehow know what I've been through since they left, laughing about their "escape".
The screams.
The scars.
The hospital visits.
I bet they hope I'd be dead by now.
Just so they don't have to risk losing anything (or anyone) they stole from me.
It doesn't matter.
They'll get their wish soon enough.
I just have a few more things to take care of first.
Hey, so, different person here, just wanted to say.
This was not suicide.
This was an attempt on our friend's life.
If she doesn't make it, she was murdered.
I just want everyone to know that.
She was murdered.
She was murdered.
She was murdered.
And the killers will forever walk free like they did nothing wrong.
There's no easy way to say this.
I won't get into specifics, but about two days ago, the original owner of this blog attempted to take her own life.
She wanted something posted today. She planned it for weeks. So I'm going to post it.
But after that, it is highly unlikely that either this blog, the Jalter blog, or the personal writing blog will have anything new for the foreseeable future.
I'm sorry.
We, at least on our end, did everything we could.
But it's over.