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Steven Leonard hadn’t gone down without a fight. The man had fought long and hard for every breath, and clung to life till the very last beat of his heart. He’d died in a leisurely misery, as deserved and as fated. So as the young prince rose to his feet, he couldn't help but welcome the final screams of the concluding battle around him. The deep resentment sowed into his heart had frayed slightly, and he was at last able to breath without strain. His head cleared significantly and the wash of happiness overwhelmed him. It had been too long since he was able to experience the bliss of pure relief. His limbs no longer dragged behind him and his hands were steady once again, he was ready to come back to himself. To come back to the real Darren Shan.
Except that he wasn’t, as the final words of his dying best friend (enemy) had stuck to him like a fly on horseshit.
“How different our story would be, had someone fought for me the way they all fight for you.”
What did that even mean? Was Steve implying that he’d been deprived of succour? Of love? Friendship? Family? It sounded ridiculous, exactly the type of thing a villain would declare as his final words before his grand loss to the hero.
But...was he truly the villain? Were we truly the heroes in this story? Or were we just too blind sighted by our own struggle to account for theirs? Could we have avoided this entire massacre if we’d only listened a little better? No, no, don’t be absurd Darren, we did what we had to do to survive. Peace was never an option in this cruel nightmare. This had always been set in stone, impossible to change! Set by a power far beyond my own- one to not interfere with. Yes! Of course, that's it! I can’t take responsibility for something like that now can I? See, Darren? I worry over nothing, just needless thoughts to fill my overactive conscience…
But as he walked away from his deceased rival, heavy thoughts of guilt and remorse befell upon him. The walls of his mind trapped him in an endless circle of asking wrong from right, bad from good, and whether or not he himself could truly say he fit into the latter. As Darren contemplated his very reason for existence, the fight between The War Of Scars came to a final close. As Vancha and Gannen hung from each other's necks in a bruising hug, and as Harkat desperately searched for Darren among the fallen soldiers, the young man couldn’t help but resent the life he’d come to live. The friends he called family were sitting ducks, waiting to be killed off because his destiny said so. Mr Crepsley, Kurda, Arra and Gavner, all dead because his planned actions had played the leading role in the way they would perish. It was unfair, he’d had no say in the way he lived life. He’d played the part of Mr Tiny’s puppet perfectly. Everything had gone according to his plan and Darren had no doubt that he would continue to dictate his future actions from the side lines.
No. I can’t live like this. This is my life. My future. My destiny. And I'll do whatever the hell I want with it you little bastard.
Darren Shan abruptly turned and headed back into the mouth of the stadium, where he returned to his old friend's side. Upon looking at said old friend's dead face, he thought about how peaceful one looked in their forever slumber. He remembered the face Mr Crepsley had held as he fell to his death, and Kurda too. Darren had just assumed that the feeling of falling was too calming to not be happy about. Arra on her deathbed, the small smile that never left her face. Even Gavner had looked content during his final moments. But as he looked at Steve, he was confused as to what had been peaceful about his death. Maybe he truly was just a psychopath? Maybe he was smiling because he realised how truly ironic his ending had been. In that case, any feelings of guilt and sorrow Darren had felt would’ve been ridiculous. Finding no other conclusions, he settled on that final opinion of Steve. He was just a lunatic.
“If I had been loved and protected with the same ferocity at which I'd been hurt and abused with, the world would have known the power of my kindness instead of the danger of my pain.”
Darren flinched. The feelings of pity for Steve had returned at remembering his final words.
Ugh , I’ve had enough of feeling emotions! They’re just too complicated for me to keep up. Besides, I’m getting off track again. Contemplating whether or Steve deserved my remorse isn’t what I came here to do! I need to focus and forget about that crap. I came here to take my life back so that’s what I’ll do! Even if I am being a little extreme…
He grabbed the stake that had been driven into Steve’s heart from the still-warm body, and watched as the steady flow of blood rapidly coloured the floor red. As he waited in silence for everything and nothing, he directed the sharp tip of the stake at his own heart and slowed his breathing.
Mr Tiny wanted one winner. Only one was supposed to survive the war, and it had been Darren. Darren had won and was now expected to turn to darkness and rule with Desmond Tiny, causing mayhem and havoc alongside the sadistic man. But if both winners were dead, then Mr Tiny wouldn’t have dictated every aspect of Darren’s life. He would finally get some control back. And Darren would have the final say in how his future was supposed to go.
And if my death is my decision, if my death is the only control I have over my life. Then my death is what I pick.
With that final thought, Darren Shan plunged a stake deep within his heart.
It’s funny really. All this time I’ve played victim, all this time I’ve cried over how truly unfair my life was, at how unlucky I’ve been. I’ve come to realise that it was only my own doing. The cards life had dealt me had been a horrible hand and that resulted in me being just as bad as the Villain.
I, who had started life as a hero, am now the villain of a story I didn't even want to be in.