Murder, Mayhem, and Music

Forever My Queen

**Note: Features a female reader. Diavolo may seem a bit out of character here, but I figure that by this point, after having gone through the death loop for so long, his already unstable mind has snapped completely. So have fun with that, Reader. Be warned that I haven't proofread this so it may contain mistakes. I'll go back over this and fix any mistakes I find later. In the meantime I'll go back to working on "Kinder Than Love".

WARNING: Mentions of suicide, death, and other dark themes. Read at your own discretion. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you choose to read.

Inspiration: "Forever My Queen" by Pentagram

How much longer would he have to endure this? How many times would he have to endure the agony of death?

Over and over and over again...

Would he ever be allowed to die and just stay dead?!

Diavolo's wild, green eyes darted around, making note of every little thing that could possibly kill him. He deemed it all dangerous. After all the times he died, he learned a very important lesson:

Death could come at any time, from anywhere, from anyone or anything.

From being stabbed, burned, shot, poisoned, strangled, electrocuted, drowned, starved, crushed, chopped to pieces, eaten alive, torn in half, beaten to death, he'd experienced nearly every way a human being could die. He couldn't take it anymore.

How would it happen this time?

Would it be slow and agonizing or quick and painless?

He stared about, cringing in on himself and trembling. It had already been about ten minutes and he was still breathing. It offered him no comfort. He knew it was only a matter of time before the end came. Then he would end up somewhere else and die again... and again... and again...

"Please..." his voice came out in a trembling whisper.

"Please!"

A few people walking down the sidewalk glanced in his direction, shook their heads at the obvious madman, and kept walking.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE! GET IT OVER WITH! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!" he screamed, glaring at the people that turned to give him strange looks.

How did the saying go? "Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Diavolo, the man that had once held an entire country in the palm of his hand had been reduced to a cowering, trembling, paranoid lunatic that screamed obscenities in the streets while people looked on in shock, concern, and occasional amusement.

The King was king no more.

He had nothing.

He was nothing.

His subjects had all turned against him. His kingdom had been stolen from him. He was exiled into a never ending loop of death, defeated by a mere child. King Crimson was gone. Dear Doppio, his companion soul, was dead. And now, the only thing he had to look forward to was death.

He fell to his knees and tried to keep from bursting into tears like a pathetic child. Most of the people that had been distracted by his little outburst had already walked away, some more hurried than others, but all wanting nothing more than to be as far away from Diavolo as possible. He could keel over right there in front of all those people and none of them would care. They would just step over his corpse as if he were just a pile of trash. No one cared what happened to him.