Wall Sina was the most unreachable of the three. If titans were ever to reach our homes, we'd already be prepared to fight those monsters... or at least we'd already have the time to prepare for our deaths. But I fought different monsters. The worst of them weren't the mindless giant creatures that humanity fought, they were the sentient beings living next to us every day. I was one of those monsters too.
I lived in a bar, just me and my two-year-younger sister, Kuchel, in a small room that had only one bed. Old Joren was a friend of our parents. My sister could never remember, but I still had the memory of our parents talking with the old man at his bar as I ate my special sandwich. It was bread, hard-boiled eggs, cheese, and some fresh fruit old Joren could find; most times it was blackberries, and to top it off, a little bit of honey sometimes, when we could afford it. It sounds like a nasty combination, but it was my special thing. It must be something to do with the Ackerman tongue because later my sister turned my special meal into our special meal, and then years later, so did her son.
Joren was always the one to make us the sandwich; it wasn't all the time, but he tried his best to please us after our parents disappeared. He was a rare case of what I would call a "good man". I think his kindness passed to my sister, but so did his cowardice. Neither of those passed to me, I didn't allow them to. Looking back, I even think I was a prick to the poor man, always getting into trouble, always trying to steal food or money or clothes, anything I could get my hands on. But he didn't let me, he believed the world still had some beauty under all the filth.
His bar united the folks in the underground, and to keep them united, Joren did let some people step on him and be forgiven, dealt with kind words. That's what he taught me. Sometimes I tried to follow his teachings, I started working on his bar and all, earning some good old honest dough. I was trying to be like him, but it wasn't long until I learned that I couldn't.
Later in life, I killed with blades, guns, even ODM gear, but I used nothing but my bare hands when I first took away someone's life. My sister and I had to survive among the chaos beneath Mitras. I was about ten years old when I got home to find the MP's right next to my door - two men who seemed to be around their thirties, who waited for the door to open with blades in their hands. I hid with Kuchel behind a dirty laundry basket, listening to their conversation.
But little me, who thought I was about to hear some sadistic plans, heard nothing but laughs coming out of their mouths. They talked and smiled so casually while complaining about the smell of rotten animals and cleaned the shit of their boots with a look of disgust.
It was then that the wooden door opened; it was dark, and the bar was closed. Joren wiped the sweat from his bald head with a towel; his apron was dirty, and he held a little bag in his left hand. To my surprise, Joren didn't greet them with the usual cheerfulness and big smile. As soon as he looked into their eyes, his body froze, and he let the bag fall onto the floor.
"Where are the Ackerman brats?"
I heard one of them ask. Kuchel looked at me with her eyes widened in fear, and I held her hand as I tried to keep listening. Joren closed his eyes and looked at the floor.
"Answer me, old man!"
The other ordered him, but he was left with no response. A punch was thrown at Joren's face, and he immediately fell to the ground. I was urged to run toward the bastards, but Kuchel held me as she started crying. My breath was shaky, and my legs made too much noise, enough for the MP's to turn their heads around. However, before they could start walking in the noise's direction, Joren spoke, his voice cracking.
"They don't know anything!"
They turned around, and he continued to speak as his mouth trembled.
"They're just kids! As long as they live with me, you'll never be threatened!"
Joren shouted at the two men. My shaking body didn't really allow me to process what he was saying. I was trying to contain myself, follow Joren's teachings again, but their result was right before my eyes, and I couldn't follow the same steps. One of the MP's held Joren by his shirt while the other put a blade next to his neck.
"Better to stop a leak before it floods the whole place."
As soon as the man holding the knife spoke, I let go of Kuchel's hand and ran, not a single thought in my head except the rage that filled it, turning the rage into screams.
Both the MP's looked at me, but my tiny legs were too fast for them to react instantly. Before they could react, I threw myself onto the legs of one of the men, throwing him to the ground. His weapons fell, and my hands reached for his neck, my throat was burning from screaming, his was burning from the strength of my grip. The bastard who held Joren tried to pull me back, but Joren immediately reached for the knife on the ground.
For the first time in my life, I saw Joren holding a knife at anything but the food he cooked for the folk. But I was too blind...my eyes shifted back to the man on the ground, watching as he held my hands in desperation, his veins popping out of his head. Then I felt death. I remember exactly the moment in which he died, I felt it in my hands and my eyes. Before his mouth stopped begging for air, or his head fell back, I already knew what I had done.
For a brief moment, I felt reborn. I felt like a hole inside me had been filled. I was terrified of it, but at the same time...my appetite felt as pleased as when I ate my special sandwich. That was before I heard my name being called.
"Kenny!"
Joren shouted as the remaining MP threw him to the ground and tried to get the knife out of his hands. Joren struggled. Even with the blade in his hand, even with the man just at his reach, he couldn't do it. I tried to run, but it was too late. The MP grabbed the knife and slit Joren's throat open. I felt death again. The whole world froze for an instant. I felt the knife drag around his neck and I felt every drop of blood coming out of it. The hole filled just now was empty again, sunken deeper into me. My appetite was insatiable again, not even by the cut that opened Joren's neck, but by his eyes.
He wasn't looking at the man who killed him...he was staring at the man I had killed. Eyes wide open, a look of pure horror. Even now...I can't put myself into guessing what he was thinking...even if his face showed it all.
I was too hungry. So hungry, so hollow inside that the rest happened in the blink of an eye. One stab, two stabs, three stabs, four stabs...on and on until the body barely looked human. All that remained was the face...twisted in a kind of agony that I've seen many times since then.
And yet...it didn't fill me.
Finally there was silence, I was on my knees still with the knife in my hands and with blood all over my face...tired and empty. Until my mind circled back to the real world, and I heard cries, familiar cries. I looked to my side, and there sat my sister hiding her face, shaking, crying so loudly that I can't understand how no one had heard her before. Our screams had drowned the innocent cries of a child, violence had silenced purity.
I slowly walked towards Kuchel, and tried to hug her. But as my hands reached for her, she pulled away and her eyes met mine. She was petrified. She cried more and avoided looking at me like we would avoid looking under our bed because of monsters. In that moment, I felt something warm roll down my cheek. Not sweat, not blood...a tear, dropping red on the ground from the blood that stained me.
"I'm sorry..."
My voice cracked, and that was all I could say. I stood there facing her for a while, wondering if she would ever see me as Kenny again. I turned my head back and looked at the bag that Joren had dropped in the ground, alone next to the door.
I dragged my feet towards it, barely breathing. When I picked it up, more tears came. I didn't even wipe them. I needed to open it, I needed to see what was the last thing in Joren's mind before the two devils came and froze him in fear. Inside was another stab in me. Two specials sandwiches lied there unharmed, carefully made. There was even honey this time.
Once again I dragged my feet towards Kuchel. Maybe this would ease her pain, maybe she'd see I'm still the same Kenny that loves our special sandwich. She sat hiding her face and crying, and I carefully put a sandwich next to her and sat down, waiting for her to notice. It took a while, but she ended up looking at it. Tears were still coming when she grabbed it, confused. Then she took a bite, and then she continued, still sobbing, but now she had something to cling to, a glimpse of love amidst hate and fear.
It didn't make me feel better about what I had done, but I was glad that atleast she could get some comfort, even if little. I tried to comfort myself too, to erase a bit of the pain the same way she did. I took a bite...then two, then three, then four. Nothing. No consolation, no relief. It didn't erase my appetite. It didn't fill the void. I had dug a hole so deep that nothing I could throw in it would ever be enough.
I was no longer human. I wasn't even a titan...no, atleast titans aren't counscious. I was worse, a monster.