#dd12

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                                   1

He is sixteen, and he is barely holding on.

He is tipping. He is alive, though he wishes he were not. Everything is black. Everything is confusing. Everything is clear.

How am I supposed to live like this? he thinks, ears ringing with the sound of the city. He thanks God that Stick taught him how to block it out, but sometimes he can't stop the noise from flooding in. When that happens he hates Stick. He thinks God is punishing him, and wants to yell and scream and punch the daylights out of that old bastard. Then he is sad. Stick left. People leave. That's what they do.

Matt is on the edge of a very great fall. He’s almost gone. His toes are tipping down as the ground slides from under him, and above, the sky is full of blinding, bewildering light. Only the edge is sharp. Only the drop is clear.

Leave me alone, leave me alone, Matt thinks, when the sisters come to check that he is eating. He has not been to school this week, I'm going to fail, I hate this, I hate this, and they are kind but stern. They do not like when Matt has these 'fits', is what they call them. It makes taking care of him difficult, and difficult children are always hard to like. So they pray for him, but they do not like him. They try to hide it but Matt knows.

Why is this happening? he thinks, curled up in bed with his hands clasped over his ears. Confused, he sobs, and sleeps, and sobs. Then he is back, and awake and aware.

It is clear what his problem is. I should be dead, he reasons. There's been a mistake. I shouldn't be here.

He goes back to school. Floats through everything. There is a long hiatus. A winter with a demon on his back; the entirety of him dragged into the undertow. He lives eighty-eight days in the deep end, breathing bad water.

When his time is up, he remembers nothing.

                                2

"We're worried for him, sister," his math teacher says. She has come to see Matt at the orphanage, and to talk about his behavior with his caretakers. They, all of them, are in charge of the orphans, and Matt wonders who nominated Sister Penny in particular for this unpleasant task.

"I understand," Sister Penny agrees. "He's always been a somber boy."

"It's a little more than that," Mrs. McKenzie insists. "He never smiles, never engages with the other children– he seems very unhappy, sister. His teachers are worried, Mr. Ryan and I, especially."

Sister Penny does not know how to handle this. How to handle Matt. She never signed up for this, and he feels bad for her, as he listens to her make half-hearted promises to 'look into getting him help'. He feels sorry for the both of them– for them having to put up with him. He is already disabled, and needs more accommodations than the other children– and he's got to add a horrible attitude on top of everything else? Matt is not a good person. They know, and he knows, and he's pretty sure God knows.

But Matt doesn't know everything.

His walls are high, and the sisters do not wish to intrude for his sake, no matter how much they care. "We will look into getting him help," Sister Penny promises, and her heart aches. She feels useless, because she doesn't really understand.

"That's all we ask," says Mrs. McKenzie, thinking of the quiet, brilliant little boy that she desperately wants to help. To her, he is not difficult. To them, he is not a burden. He is good.

But Matt does not see this.

                                   3

Matt is going to Columbia, and he is very excited. His dad always wanted him to excel, and so he has done, and only partially in memoriam. Matt is ambitious, and now he is off to college, where he hopes to do well enough to get into law school. Matt is intent on doing well, and doesn't doubt very much that he will. He is smart, after all, and failure is simply not an option.

It doesn't matter that some days he feels stupid, that some days he feels like the scum of the earth. Today he's on top of the world. He feels so good that he takes the subway, which he usually avoids with a passion. He cannot remember why he ever did, once he gets on.

A woman drops her bag, which is full of coins and keys and unnecessary things. The sound rushes through his head like a tidal wave, building up as it goes. His spine crawls, and electrifies; and Matt suddenly remembers exactly why he avoids the subway. His heart tries to twist out of his chest. His shoulders tighten painfully. Inside his head, he screams through gritted teeth.

He gets off at the next station, but doesn't know how he makes it home.

                                4

Foggy has left his books on the floor again. Matt trips over them and catches himself on his bed before he can hit the floor. What the hell. Are you kidding– he clenches his teeth and closes his eyes, hands shaking. Every time. Every goddamn time. Fiery irritation runs through his veins. He feels like his face is hot and red. I hate him, I hate him, he thinks.

"Oh, sorry dude," says Foggy, sounding genuinely apologetic.

"It's fine," Matt snaps. Foggy flinches.

The guilt rises up and crushes him. Shit. Shit. It's not every time. It's hardly ever. He never does this. Foggy is good. He's good--

Matt sits down at the edge of his bed.

"Going out tonight?" he asks pleasantly, still angry but so, so sorry.

So tired.

Foggy takes it in stride, even though he shouldn't have to. Matt hates himself, and knows that never in a million years will he deserve Foggy Nelson's friendship. He feels like he should be crying, but nothing happens.

                                   5

Elektra shatters him.

He is sky high after he meets her. He's fucking amazing. Everything is good and bright and wicked in the world, and he's at the center of it. They fight and fuck and rule the goddamn planet. Matt feels like he's going a million miles an hour, and she's beside him, riding it with him; egging him on.

He doesn't sleep. He doesn't need to sleep. Sleep is a waste. Of what, he doesn't know. It's just that he could be out and running around untouchable with the love of his life but instead he has to sit and learn about things he already knows. So he doesn't bother. He's too smart for Columbia Law, anyway.

"You're not challenged enough," Elektra agrees. Feeding him. "Let's try something else."

They try petty crime and vandalism. They spend thousands and thousands of dollars on who knows what; on things with no lasting power.

Matt experiments. Elektra fucks him and he fucks her, and there are others. They come and go just as Matt's interest comes and goes, because eventually they bore him. Mostly he thrives on Elektra.

They get angry a lot. They fight and they fuck. The world is bright and good and Matt never wants it to end.

"She's fantastic. She makes me better, you know? I feel like I've been waiting for her, just going through the motions until she showed up. She gets me, you know? Really gets me. That sounds strange, I don't know if I'm saying it right. Am I saying it right? Do you like her? I don't think you do. It's okay. I'm just trying to explain it. It's hard to explain."

Foggy is worried, even though he has nothing to worry about. Doesn't he see how good Matt is right now? He's perfect.

"Matty," he says. "Maybe you guys could slow down a little. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you, really–"

"Then why don't you like her?" Matt asks, accusation in his tone. "You're happy for me but you don't like her. You don't even know her. You don't understand."

"I'm trying to–"

"Save it."

Matt leaves. What does Foggy know? He can't understand how Elektra makes him feel, it's too big to put into words. It's ghost smoke. It's theirs. And Matt won't slow down, because nothing is wrong with how they are. They are sustainable; he's sure that they are for forever. They're immortal.

Matt is a G--

--she shatters him.

Or he shatters himself. Either way, he's in pieces. It's a long fall and he is shoved out of a plane without a parachute. He realizes he's going to hit the ground hard and doesn't care. He has ruined everything.

He is nothing.

                              + 1

When he first hears the girl crying, and the things her father is doing to her, Matt vomits. He throws up and gags and chokes on the guilt, because he can hear it and initially he does nothing. He's probably in some sort of shock, but that's no excuse.

Matt tries the legal way, but that proves useless. Sometimes the law isn't enough. Matt gets that. He doesn't like it, but he gets it. He vacillates, and she cries and cries and cries. Until one night, it's too much, just too much– and it sets him off something awful. He is sharp and intense in those days; he is cruel and wrathful. His smile is not a smile. He plans. He waits. He beats the shit out of the bag and breathes slow, and deep.

Then he takes care of the problem.

It feels– Matt doesn't know how it feels. Like a piece that was missing has fallen into place? Like he's finally figured out what he's doing here? Finally found out that the elusive answer to why why why is this this this?

He's spent years trying to soothe the devil inside of him. He's tried sex, alcohol, drugs, money, company, solitude, and fear– but he's never really tried vengeance, violence, and blood. He's never considered that soothing the devil might just mean indulging it. And he knows he's bad. He knows he's no good like this. But damn if it isn't a potent remedy for his messed up head. This is the cure for insanity. This is his destiny, to complete this metamorphosis, because wrath is the only panacea.

So Matt becomes the devil.