"You believed she'd love you..."

"How pathetic!"

"You're so pathetic..."

"Weak..."

"Emotional girly weirdo..."

"What a dumbass..."

"Nobody will ever love you..."

"Stop, stop, stop! This isn't true! None of that is true!" Bruce shouted at nobody in particular. He was alone, sat in a dark room in his house. His Dad had dragged him home after seeing that he was harming himself mentally ever since the argument. "I'm sure someone out there loves me! Someone has to!"

"Why do you think your mum committed suicide then, huh?~"

"Come on, think of what your dad said after she died!"

"Think of what he said an hour ago when he yelled at you!"

"Yeah! Come on, think on what he said!"

"Come on, weakling! Straighten up to the truth! What did he say, huh?~"

"Say the words to yourself and then fact check what you think about yourself!"

"You must be naive to think anyone would love you after what you've done!"

The voices in his head were taunting him, and he let them manifest as people. He imagined shadows of the people that went away because of his actions. His mum, Cornelia, his Dad, all his old mates from school. He knew one of these days he'd be haunted by the demons from his past, but he had never thought that the day would come so soon and so fast. He felt the tears sting at his eyes.

He let the thoughts flow through him again and again. The demons, the shadowed faces of those that had left him because of his irrational actions and words. Those that had left him because he followed his cousin's word. The boy really had ruined the young Pokémon trainer's life forever. He felt so pathetic now, letting the voices get to him like this. He felt awkward and humiliated as the voices filled his head with more taunting and withering words.

"Do you now know the mistake your mother made by letting you get further than the womb?"

"I can't believe they had the sex to awaken such a dumb, stupid and irrational monster!"

"The gym leader's son has become a criminal recluse! Who woulda thought it!"

"Pah, to think that anyone thought this dumb little boy had any type of potential!"

"Listen to us! Think on why they left..."

"It was all your fault..."

"Don't remind me of how much of a mistake I am..." he muttered to himself as he let the voices insult him and mock him further. "To think that anyone would love a criminal like me... I really am an idiot!" He began to laugh to himself, "your own dad hates you now! Everyone in this world hates you! You were so naive... So very stupid. You're funny, so funny that I can't laugh.."

He wanted to continue thinking that none of it was true, but the voices had hit a spot within him that he never thought existed. He always tried to think of what others thought of them, but never tried to make himself any better than he previously was as a person.

They always prayed to a guardian of hope and peace. Why couldn't that Pokémon ever have awakened in his life? Maybe if it were for that Pokémon, he'd stop being such a waste of space and actually make something out of himself. What were the legends they always taught him about in theology?

There was a war two thousand years ago, and it was brought to a close due to Marchan simply being purified by two other Pokémon. Marchan both caused and ended a Great War that had torn apart many parts of Soleil. The region had even been at war with itself.

Just like Bruce was. At war with his existence, the fabric of his very being.

...

He was now in the library, reading some kind of novel or biblical text, something that would tell him stories or give him evidence pointing to the Pokémon who had a name that was holy. In the background, maybe from a computer, someone was playing a video of a news broadcast.

Cornelia. They mentioned how she had managed to storm through two gyms in one day. They were theorising that Bruce had given up on his journey to the top because of health reasons. Bruce was picturing what was happening in his head. The reporters bombarded his rival with questions about her strategy.

She was so confident that it put the boy to shame.

"I can't believe you can't be more like her. She's loveable, she even has a fan club! What do you have, besides a fractured state of being?"

"Come on! Your own rival, who explicitly stated that she hated you, is better than you! I bet you couldn't even say anything to a reporter, let alone what she's doing! She's so talented, and you're... you're an idiot! An emotional, girly idiot!"

"Go on, remember what your father told you! Remember how he yelled at you with such vigour that you couldn't possibly have!"

"Remember what he said!"

"Yeah, what did he say?~"

"Go on, remember what he said!"

Splatters of salt filled tears fell on the worn pages of the ancient book the boy had been reading as he squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. They fell on the book in sets of ten, landing in giant blobs in the middle of every word he had been reading. The boy was shaking. He was rocking himself in his chair, overwhelmed with negative thoughts. He was trying not to think about what the voices in his head were telling him, but it was so hard. They never left him alone.

All he could do was rock himself as the tears rushed down from his now warm cheeks and landed on the yellowed pages of the book. He was shaking, but he wasn't cold. The negative thoughts filled his body and that's when he snapped. He couldn't read about the war anymore. Not with what the voices were telling him.

As he rocked himself and felt his sanity slip away, the doors of the library flew open. In came a certain mahogany haired young lady who had just won her first gym badge, followed by many fans that were disguising themselves as librarians. He almost felt tempted to laugh.

She was so popular and yet he, the Gym leader's son, was nothing than a whining dumbass that was still pining after a mother who was dead.

Maybe he would be better off dead as well...

"Bruce... Uh... How do I put this?" The mahogany haired teen began nervously. "I just want to apologise..."

He was only thinking one thing right now, and that thing was: oh shit.