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Ever since memories started to return, Shiro felt like he was losing his mind. It had started with flashes of the colosseum, his prison cell, the galra ships he’s been on, until the images turned into full on flashbacks. He found it harder to keep up a smile every day. Shiro hoped these moments of weakness wouldn't show on the surface.
The cheering roared in his ears, rolling off his body. It no longer was an event, it was a craving. His robot hand twinged at the opportunity to spill blood. Almost human. His prey weakened, shaking and unable run. His human hand gripped the blade as he stalked over;he had to make a show of it to get drunk off the crowd
The screams of the crowd pulsed through his body, it was the force that brought his robotic hand to the alien’s throat. The hold he had tightened, digging into soft flesh. Pulse weakening more and more, he moved the knife closer to-
“Shiro?”
Shiro turned to the source of the voice, Keith. Whatever else was on his mind had been replaced with concern for the black paladin.
“Shiro, are you ok?” Keith repeated. Shiro didn’t realize how long he was gone, lost in that vivid memory. He shrugged the question off
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”
It was just one of those days.