I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy | for wille

[redheadcarrier]

 It's not fair. Nothing is ever fair. It's always her who has to deal with the fallout of everyone's stupid decisions. Especially Shinji. Always Shinji. He's the one people worry about, he's the one people care for, he's the one who can apparently do no wrong. And her? All she can do is keep failing over and over and over again. She can't beat any of the Angels, it seems; she's had to be saved by Shinji so many times and her sync ratio - her sync ratio isn't getting better anymore. It's getting worse. Everything is getting worse. Did anyone come and cry at her hospital bed after she was injured? No! But Misato spent a month trying to get Shinji out of his Eva (and seemed way too broken up about it). 

She can't control any of it. Every last piece of her life is spiraling out of control and even when she tries to force it all back into a familiar, comfortable pattern, it all just seems to backfire. She's in the bathroom now, staring at the tub, body feeling tense and coiled, a feeling of sullen anger and despair growing in her gut. This isn't fair. Why does she have to share this stupid, cramped apartment with these people she hates? Despite the moisture and steam in the air and her recent bath, she feels unclean. Like there are bugs crawling over her skin.

"Why do I have to share a bathub with them?"

She's speaking aloud, voice muted as she tries to force all of it out. To find a target.

"We even have to share a washing machine! And a toilet!" 

It all hurts. The idea of having to share her space is becoming an overwhelming facet in her mind. She hates being near them. She hates having to see them every day. She hates everything about this apartment, about Japan, about Misato and Shinji and- 

"I hate Misato. I hate Shinji!"

Her voice starts to rise and a part of her knows that Misato can hear her through the thin door and walls of the apartment, but she also doesn't care anymore. Somehting inside of her is finally cracking and breaking under the straing.

"I especially hate Rei! And papa! And mama!"

It all hurts, it's all tumbling out. And she finally vocalizes something she's known for the past ten years of life. 

"But most of all - most of all, I hate myself! Why do I have to go through this? Why me? Why?"

The bucket goes flying and it clatters against the wall as her voice trails off into a wail and she sinks back against the wall of the bathroom, face buried against her knees as she tries for force back angry, heated tears, shoulders shuddering with each intake of breath. It is all her fault, isn't it?

She's not good enough. She wasn't good enough for her mother, she's not good enough for NERV, she's not good enough to do anything. 

It isn't fair.

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[wille]

Of all her failings, Misato wonders which will hit her the hardest. Her failure at being a daughter, a lover or a mother?

She takes on the coat of a brother in arms more readily than an apron, the captain's hat fits her better, and late nights out at work suits her just fine. She won't ever be the kind to stay up waiting at a dinner growing cold. That was her mother's life, spent crying and pining and waiting to be loved, and it won't be hers because she won't wait for anything. What she still wouldn't admit is how much she is more like her father, as emotionally evasive, as drowned in work, as incapable of warmth. Still she stays crouched near the girl, eyes on the floor.

"A few days," she found it at some point during her continued stretch of sleeplessness, but the days and nights blur together. "Sorry, I lost count."

It occurs to her that perhaps she should apologize on behalf of the other adults too, on behalf of NERV, but she finds she doesn't want to. If she admits to guilt then she admits her part in this entire despicable plan. If she apologizes then she's calling herself one of them when she still has every plan to go after them, destroy the foundations of their power, avert their masterplan.

"They're all the same," except for Unit 00, but she keeps that silent, telling herself it's for Rei's sake, telling herself she doesn't know enough yet. "Would it have been better not to know?"

[redheadcarrier]

Asuka hasn't had an opportunity to fail at being a lover or a mother. She's certainly failed at being a daughter, though. She'd like to scream that the world failed her first, but she knows that's not true. If she wasn't a failure, she wouldn't be here, curled up on the floor of a dingy apartment, covered up by a towel and shivering. Her hands clench at the cloth,drawing it tighter and tighter around herself, as if she can shut out the world. She wants to cry and scream and break things. She wants someone to tell her that everything will be fine. She wants to kill the old men who have apparently turned her life into hell, who took away her mother.

She wants a hug.

A part of her wants Misato to comfort her and a part of her would take that, in this moment A way for all of the tension and horrible emotion that's built up inside of her to come pouring out. Catharsis. She's denied that, of course, by her own head and by Misato. There's no where for it to go except into anger and hatred and vicious self-loathing.

Why didn't she see any of this? Why didn't she understand? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Worthless.

"No," her voice comes out in a strained whisper. She's holding back tears again, throat tight, eyes aching. She thought she'd poured all of it out, but there's more, so much more, trying to pour itself out of her. A lifetime of resentment and anger and sorrow, all being brought to a head and she can't get it out. There's no where for it to go. No place for the energy to spend itself.

"Now I know who I have to kill."

What did they expect when they gave a fourteen year old girl the power of life and death?