First of all, I feel super weird about posting this right after Repent, but it's an entirely new thing. It's okay, right?
Second of all, a couple of these posts may be updated versions of something on Wattpad, because I'm there as well, so don't freak out. I wrote these by myself, it's not stealing.
Finally, just enjoy these, I guess.
A Myriad of Stories
Moderator: Tea House Moderators
Do You Remember?
Do You Remember?
Inch by inch, I creeped towards the door; my hand touched the cold knob. A shock ran up my arm, and I grinned. This wasn't a dream, unlike all those other times. I was actually doing this. Hesitant and somewhat fearful, I twisted the knob and slowly pulled, revealing the green grass and clear skies that were promised to me. But something was off. A black speck that grew into a distorted figure the closer it came hurtled towards the door. It looked like a dragon, but the wings were crooked. In fact, everything looked crooked. From the horns jutting out the side of its gigantic head to the fins running down its long tail, the monster looked crooked and broken, as if it were a toy that had been played with and tossed away. The black and red thing dropped onto the grass in front of the door and roared, revealing perfectly straight teeth that could easily snap my entire body in two. I tried to move, but I was paralyzed with fear.
The head pushed through the door, smashing the edges to fit. Slowly, the mouth opened and came down. Its breath smelled like rotting meat, and I felt like throwing up. A snake-like tongue slithered over my arm, wrapping around my waist. The tongue squeezed, crushing my body.
I gasped and sat up, feeling the familiar fear that always followed that dream. It was the same one that I've had for about a six months now, and it was always the same. What could it mean? I wondered, looking over at the clock on my desk. It was only three-thirty in the morning, and I was too terrified to go back to bed. I sighed and moved over to the edge of my bed, reaching up and pulling the switch to turn on the light.
"Ugh, too bright," I mumbled, slipping off the edge of my bed and onto the floor. I stumbled slightly and grabbed onto the bedpost for support. My stomach and chest ached, and I knew I would have small punctures on my lower stomach. They were there last night, but I'm guessing that now they'd be fresh. Great. I hope I don't have blood anywhere, I sarcastically thought, pulling my shirt over my head and inspecting the edges for any sign of blood.
When I was thoroughly convinced there was no blood, I grabbed some band-aids and placed them on the wounds, grumbling to myself. After pulling on a tank-top, I walked out of my room and saw that my brother's door was open wide, which is abnormal since he usually keeps it closed. I curiously looked inside, and Sam waved at me. "Hey," he greeted.
"Uh, Sam, why is your door open?" I asked, looking at him skeptically. He grinned. "Because I need to talk to you about something. Sit," Sam gestured to the bed next to him, and I cautiously walked over but remained standing. He sighed but shrugged.
"Alex, do you remember?" Sam's teasing grin turned into an almost sadistic grin as he grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the bed. I gasped as I felt curving claws wrap around my wrist, and Sam's eyes changed into the soulless, black eyes of the monster in my dreams.
The world around me began to change, small bits and pieces flaking off to reveal a dark cave littered with different broken toys. Sam began to change as well; his arms and legs stretched and turned black as his nose and mouth elongate into a snout. Wings sprouted from his broad shoulders, and scales began to spread across the entirely pitch black skin. A tail grew at the end, and spikes flickered into existence down his spine.
"S-Sam?" I whimpered, edging back. The monster who used to be Sam slammed a lizard-like foot in my way, its razor sharp claws narrowly missing cutting off my head. The thing laughed, smoke billowing out from its mouth. "I'm not Sam. I am the thing of your nightmares. Don't you remember me, Alex? Your favorite toy. You took me everywhere, played with me, hugged me, loved me. Until that day. Tell me, do you remember that day?" I whimpered again and shook my head violently.
"You abandoned me! Left me there all alone! You just tossed me away without a second thought! And all because that pathetic brother of yours told you to," the thing snarled, pushing its snout close to my face. The tail whipped around, and the claws scraped against the floor. Then it began to shrink and change once more. "Toys have personalities too, you know? When you love something and take care of it, it comes to life. It turns into a human being, a friend. It comes to love the person who gave it life, even though that love can never be returned," the thing turned into a person, with black hair and red eyes. It was a boy about my age, sixteen.
He stepped forward. "Alex, do you remember how much fun we used to have? How you used to constantly whisper how much you loved me? How you wished for me to be real, for me to be a person so you could have a friend?" I swallowed, tears coming to my eyes. "Do you remember the day you so carelessly tossed me away without a second thought? But, of course, I suppose I got my revenge in the end. Your supposed friends tossed you away, like you did me. I guess they were bored of you," his eyes showed only hatred as he stepped closer to me.
"N-no. That... it isn't true," I choked out, holding back sobs as tears freely flowed down my face. He laughed and kept walking towards me. I began stepping backwards, only for my back to hit a cold, stone wall. I whimpered as he slowly advanced, looking around for a way to escape and taking a few steps forward. But before I could even begin to think about escaping, the former dragon roughly shoved me into the wall and held me there.
"I like the name Blaze, don't you? I think it suits me. How about you start calling me that? I think it's a fantastic idea," Blaze grinned at me as I nodded, unable to speak. "Do you want to see something cool?" He asked. Before I could do anything, he held up his hand, and I watched in horror as claws grew out of the tips of his fingers. Blaze laughed and slowly ran the tip of one razor sharp claw over my jaw, slicing the skin without any difficulty.
"This makes everything so much easier, doesn't it?" He asked, and I nodded, too afraid to do anything else. "Good thing you're already dead, isn't it? Now I get to have my fun forever," Blaze smiled threateningly at me, and I whimpered once again.
"D-dead? Already?" I stupidly asked, my voice quivering and barely cooperating.
"Yes. Do you remember? The feelings of worthlessness? That it was your fault? The loneliness? The overwhelming feeling of everything being because of you? The knife? The way it slid across your skin?" I shook my head, tears tracing paths down my cheeks. I didn't want to remember, but I did. Everything. Their words. His words. The way everything just crashed around me. How alone I was. I couldn't trust anyone. I didn't have a safe place. Not anymore. My parents blamed me for Sam's death. I blamed myself too. My friends ended up hating me. I hated myself too. Sam was gone, dead, taken away from me. I wanted to be dead, and now I was.
"You remember, don't you?" Blaze asked, and I nodded. He grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight, and laughed. Suddenly, a hand was shoved through my stomach, and I screamed. The pain was unbearable, and wouldn't stop! The sound made him laugh louder as he withdrew it. "See sweetheart? You aren't dead. You should be, though, but you're too restless to truly die." Blood coated his hand, and what was left of my shirt. It dripped onto the floor, making a puddle.
A wave of pain spread through me, making my teeth clench to keep the scream of pain from coming out. The flesh knitted itself back together, as did the muscle and organ tissue. When it was over, I collapsed into a shaking ball.
"We're not done yet," came the menacing voice above me. I could imagine a malicious grin spreading across his face, and a shudder was sent down my spine. Please, someone, save me. Save me from this hell.
"Sorry, but you're all alone," he whispered, and I knew it was the truth. I stared up at the black haired monster that had once been my best friend, shaking with tears streaming down my face. He was smiling maliciously, but that faltered once he saw how broken I was. "I'm sorry! I-I shouldn't have gone so far! You- listen to me. You have to run. Get away from here. Before they make me do anything more," he whispered urgently, kneeling down beside me. I looked at him in confusion, head swimming and vision swirling. Reality seemed to blur, but three things stuck out to me before I slipped into the abyss: a bang, a scream, and a question.
"Do you remember what it feels like to die?"
Inch by inch, I creeped towards the door; my hand touched the cold knob. A shock ran up my arm, and I grinned. This wasn't a dream, unlike all those other times. I was actually doing this. Hesitant and somewhat fearful, I twisted the knob and slowly pulled, revealing the green grass and clear skies that were promised to me. But something was off. A black speck that grew into a distorted figure the closer it came hurtled towards the door. It looked like a dragon, but the wings were crooked. In fact, everything looked crooked. From the horns jutting out the side of its gigantic head to the fins running down its long tail, the monster looked crooked and broken, as if it were a toy that had been played with and tossed away. The black and red thing dropped onto the grass in front of the door and roared, revealing perfectly straight teeth that could easily snap my entire body in two. I tried to move, but I was paralyzed with fear.
The head pushed through the door, smashing the edges to fit. Slowly, the mouth opened and came down. Its breath smelled like rotting meat, and I felt like throwing up. A snake-like tongue slithered over my arm, wrapping around my waist. The tongue squeezed, crushing my body.
I gasped and sat up, feeling the familiar fear that always followed that dream. It was the same one that I've had for about a six months now, and it was always the same. What could it mean? I wondered, looking over at the clock on my desk. It was only three-thirty in the morning, and I was too terrified to go back to bed. I sighed and moved over to the edge of my bed, reaching up and pulling the switch to turn on the light.
"Ugh, too bright," I mumbled, slipping off the edge of my bed and onto the floor. I stumbled slightly and grabbed onto the bedpost for support. My stomach and chest ached, and I knew I would have small punctures on my lower stomach. They were there last night, but I'm guessing that now they'd be fresh. Great. I hope I don't have blood anywhere, I sarcastically thought, pulling my shirt over my head and inspecting the edges for any sign of blood.
When I was thoroughly convinced there was no blood, I grabbed some band-aids and placed them on the wounds, grumbling to myself. After pulling on a tank-top, I walked out of my room and saw that my brother's door was open wide, which is abnormal since he usually keeps it closed. I curiously looked inside, and Sam waved at me. "Hey," he greeted.
"Uh, Sam, why is your door open?" I asked, looking at him skeptically. He grinned. "Because I need to talk to you about something. Sit," Sam gestured to the bed next to him, and I cautiously walked over but remained standing. He sighed but shrugged.
"Alex, do you remember?" Sam's teasing grin turned into an almost sadistic grin as he grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the bed. I gasped as I felt curving claws wrap around my wrist, and Sam's eyes changed into the soulless, black eyes of the monster in my dreams.
The world around me began to change, small bits and pieces flaking off to reveal a dark cave littered with different broken toys. Sam began to change as well; his arms and legs stretched and turned black as his nose and mouth elongate into a snout. Wings sprouted from his broad shoulders, and scales began to spread across the entirely pitch black skin. A tail grew at the end, and spikes flickered into existence down his spine.
"S-Sam?" I whimpered, edging back. The monster who used to be Sam slammed a lizard-like foot in my way, its razor sharp claws narrowly missing cutting off my head. The thing laughed, smoke billowing out from its mouth. "I'm not Sam. I am the thing of your nightmares. Don't you remember me, Alex? Your favorite toy. You took me everywhere, played with me, hugged me, loved me. Until that day. Tell me, do you remember that day?" I whimpered again and shook my head violently.
"You abandoned me! Left me there all alone! You just tossed me away without a second thought! And all because that pathetic brother of yours told you to," the thing snarled, pushing its snout close to my face. The tail whipped around, and the claws scraped against the floor. Then it began to shrink and change once more. "Toys have personalities too, you know? When you love something and take care of it, it comes to life. It turns into a human being, a friend. It comes to love the person who gave it life, even though that love can never be returned," the thing turned into a person, with black hair and red eyes. It was a boy about my age, sixteen.
He stepped forward. "Alex, do you remember how much fun we used to have? How you used to constantly whisper how much you loved me? How you wished for me to be real, for me to be a person so you could have a friend?" I swallowed, tears coming to my eyes. "Do you remember the day you so carelessly tossed me away without a second thought? But, of course, I suppose I got my revenge in the end. Your supposed friends tossed you away, like you did me. I guess they were bored of you," his eyes showed only hatred as he stepped closer to me.
"N-no. That... it isn't true," I choked out, holding back sobs as tears freely flowed down my face. He laughed and kept walking towards me. I began stepping backwards, only for my back to hit a cold, stone wall. I whimpered as he slowly advanced, looking around for a way to escape and taking a few steps forward. But before I could even begin to think about escaping, the former dragon roughly shoved me into the wall and held me there.
"I like the name Blaze, don't you? I think it suits me. How about you start calling me that? I think it's a fantastic idea," Blaze grinned at me as I nodded, unable to speak. "Do you want to see something cool?" He asked. Before I could do anything, he held up his hand, and I watched in horror as claws grew out of the tips of his fingers. Blaze laughed and slowly ran the tip of one razor sharp claw over my jaw, slicing the skin without any difficulty.
"This makes everything so much easier, doesn't it?" He asked, and I nodded, too afraid to do anything else. "Good thing you're already dead, isn't it? Now I get to have my fun forever," Blaze smiled threateningly at me, and I whimpered once again.
"D-dead? Already?" I stupidly asked, my voice quivering and barely cooperating.
"Yes. Do you remember? The feelings of worthlessness? That it was your fault? The loneliness? The overwhelming feeling of everything being because of you? The knife? The way it slid across your skin?" I shook my head, tears tracing paths down my cheeks. I didn't want to remember, but I did. Everything. Their words. His words. The way everything just crashed around me. How alone I was. I couldn't trust anyone. I didn't have a safe place. Not anymore. My parents blamed me for Sam's death. I blamed myself too. My friends ended up hating me. I hated myself too. Sam was gone, dead, taken away from me. I wanted to be dead, and now I was.
"You remember, don't you?" Blaze asked, and I nodded. He grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight, and laughed. Suddenly, a hand was shoved through my stomach, and I screamed. The pain was unbearable, and wouldn't stop! The sound made him laugh louder as he withdrew it. "See sweetheart? You aren't dead. You should be, though, but you're too restless to truly die." Blood coated his hand, and what was left of my shirt. It dripped onto the floor, making a puddle.
A wave of pain spread through me, making my teeth clench to keep the scream of pain from coming out. The flesh knitted itself back together, as did the muscle and organ tissue. When it was over, I collapsed into a shaking ball.
"We're not done yet," came the menacing voice above me. I could imagine a malicious grin spreading across his face, and a shudder was sent down my spine. Please, someone, save me. Save me from this hell.
"Sorry, but you're all alone," he whispered, and I knew it was the truth. I stared up at the black haired monster that had once been my best friend, shaking with tears streaming down my face. He was smiling maliciously, but that faltered once he saw how broken I was. "I'm sorry! I-I shouldn't have gone so far! You- listen to me. You have to run. Get away from here. Before they make me do anything more," he whispered urgently, kneeling down beside me. I looked at him in confusion, head swimming and vision swirling. Reality seemed to blur, but three things stuck out to me before I slipped into the abyss: a bang, a scream, and a question.
"Do you remember what it feels like to die?"
Sunrise at Midnight
"You're like a sunrise, at midnight, during the apocalypse. Unexpected, impossible, but welcome. You bring joy to my world."
The words ring through my head, bouncing off the walls.
"You bring joy to my world."
Not anymore.
"Unexpected, impossible, but welcome."
I'm not welcome anymore, am I? No. The ex is never welcome, even if they were the ones screwed over. You cheated on me!
So why do I feel so guilty?
Every time I see you, it hurts. Does it hurt you?
No. You're too busy with my replacement. They're better than me, aren't they? Not as... sickening? Depressing? That's what you called me, at least. I'm sorry for only trusting you. I guess that's why I don't trust anyone anymore.
I trusted you... and you left. Taking my heart with you, only to ship it back in tiny little pieces. Broken. No, shattered. My shattered, impossible to fix heart, with a bow and a smiley face on it. With a card.
"I'm sorry I broke your heart. Maybe some tape will help?"
Then there'll be an empty container of tape because you're an ass.
At least, that's what you're acting like right now. Have been. But that's my fault. Hell, all of this is my fault.
Because I push.
And push.
And push.
Until you break. Until you scream and yell and fight.
Why? Why can't I just shut up? I don't know.
I broke the promise today. You know, the one you don't remember. You only remember important things, and you don't care about the promise. I do, though. But I still broke it.
Man, I break everything, don't I?
Of course, I didn't say anything about it. Nobody but me knows, and I want to keep it that way. But some part of me still wants to tell you. I don't know why, all you'll do is scream at me again. Maybe you won't.
You probably will.
You're like an eclipse. Rare and loved by others. Some are entranced by you, some thrive in your shadows, and others can't deal with you. I-I don't know which one I am anymore.
I don't think I ever knew, though. Heh, it doesn't matter anymore. I'll never be able to see you again, or talk to you. Not that we have anything to talk about. I never have anything to talk about anymore. It's a good thing I don't talk then, or maybe that's why.
Because there's nothing to say to anyone.
"How was your day?"
Painful. I see you, with them, laughing and smiling. Did you ever smile and laugh like that with me? During lunch, I just... sat there. Don't have enough money to buy food, haven't for a month now. You're over there, with them, feeding each other. Nobody tries to talk to me; they've given up. I don't stare at you, trust me.
I'm staring at the window behind you, imagining freedom. A place away from this hell that holds memories of you everywhere. Where I can't break down, can't show emotion. Nobody knows about what happens, and that's for the best.
They don't know anything.
Nobody knows anything.
Not even you.
Not anymore, at least.
Do they hold you? Kiss you? Hug you when you're upset? Do they know your favorite color? Animal? Food? Movie? Do they know you, like I did? Used to, at least. But, more importantly, are you theirs in a way you were never mine?
Not as an item or slave. As a person who gives everything to them and only them, the way people in love do.
Do they love you the way I still do?
Considering where we ended up, I hope not, because I want you to be happy, with whoever it may be with.
That doesn't stop me from also wanting you to be happy with me, though.
Nobody ever will though, will they? Perhaps that's for the best. After all, I'm a hard person to actually know. My secrets are ones that you don't tell to anyone. The ones that ruin relationships if not told correctly. If my parents knew...
I don't want to think about it, honestly. They wouldn't be mad, or even disappointed. They'd blame themselves, wouldn't they? Blame themselves for not paying enough attention to me. Too bad that'd just make it worse.
And I wonder why I don't have many friends. Let's count the reasons!
I'm selfish, annoying, immature, fucked up, clingy, bitchy, bratty, weak... need I go on?
How could you have ever even liked me?
Beautiful, you called me. Average, I say
Kind. Selfish.
Funny. Annoying.
Strong. Weak.
Perfect. Fucked up.
Strange, isn't it? How we see ourselves? How others see us? I... don't know anymore. What's the point of love, if all that happens is you get hurt?
Yes, yes, I know. Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. But I'm just... I want to give up. I want to just stop loving people, because I only get hurt. Stop trusting, because every single time I trust somebody, my trust is broken. Shattered.
Like my heart.
There's nobody I can tell anything. And it's so... so... lonely. Caging. Like a prison, only mental. A mental cage, trapping all of my thoughts within my mind. Like real prisoners, they want to escape. They hate it. I do, too. Just... I want it to stop. I want to tell someone!
But I can't, because you left, and I'm here, all alone, and everybody else is gone. Funny how that works, huh? When you want to hide in your family's arms, your family is busy with other problem. You know, I thought I'd be used to everything by now.
I'm not. Not at all. And I never will be. Because every time I feel like I'm starting to actually be okay with it, somebody comes and makes everything better for a while then leaves me in the exact same place, only this time not okay because I just had a taste of freedom again. Freedom then thrown back into the cage. I'm a sunrise… such a laughable thought.
I'm not a sunrise, or a sunset, because those are beautiful. I'm not even just midnight because even that is beautiful in the unbroken blackness, where all is silent.
I'm just me. Plain and simple. Me. That's all I am, all I'll ever be.
Not even yours, not anymore.
The words ring through my head, bouncing off the walls.
"You bring joy to my world."
Not anymore.
"Unexpected, impossible, but welcome."
I'm not welcome anymore, am I? No. The ex is never welcome, even if they were the ones screwed over. You cheated on me!
So why do I feel so guilty?
Every time I see you, it hurts. Does it hurt you?
No. You're too busy with my replacement. They're better than me, aren't they? Not as... sickening? Depressing? That's what you called me, at least. I'm sorry for only trusting you. I guess that's why I don't trust anyone anymore.
I trusted you... and you left. Taking my heart with you, only to ship it back in tiny little pieces. Broken. No, shattered. My shattered, impossible to fix heart, with a bow and a smiley face on it. With a card.
"I'm sorry I broke your heart. Maybe some tape will help?"
Then there'll be an empty container of tape because you're an ass.
At least, that's what you're acting like right now. Have been. But that's my fault. Hell, all of this is my fault.
Because I push.
And push.
And push.
Until you break. Until you scream and yell and fight.
Why? Why can't I just shut up? I don't know.
I broke the promise today. You know, the one you don't remember. You only remember important things, and you don't care about the promise. I do, though. But I still broke it.
Man, I break everything, don't I?
Of course, I didn't say anything about it. Nobody but me knows, and I want to keep it that way. But some part of me still wants to tell you. I don't know why, all you'll do is scream at me again. Maybe you won't.
You probably will.
You're like an eclipse. Rare and loved by others. Some are entranced by you, some thrive in your shadows, and others can't deal with you. I-I don't know which one I am anymore.
I don't think I ever knew, though. Heh, it doesn't matter anymore. I'll never be able to see you again, or talk to you. Not that we have anything to talk about. I never have anything to talk about anymore. It's a good thing I don't talk then, or maybe that's why.
Because there's nothing to say to anyone.
"How was your day?"
Painful. I see you, with them, laughing and smiling. Did you ever smile and laugh like that with me? During lunch, I just... sat there. Don't have enough money to buy food, haven't for a month now. You're over there, with them, feeding each other. Nobody tries to talk to me; they've given up. I don't stare at you, trust me.
I'm staring at the window behind you, imagining freedom. A place away from this hell that holds memories of you everywhere. Where I can't break down, can't show emotion. Nobody knows about what happens, and that's for the best.
They don't know anything.
Nobody knows anything.
Not even you.
Not anymore, at least.
Do they hold you? Kiss you? Hug you when you're upset? Do they know your favorite color? Animal? Food? Movie? Do they know you, like I did? Used to, at least. But, more importantly, are you theirs in a way you were never mine?
Not as an item or slave. As a person who gives everything to them and only them, the way people in love do.
Do they love you the way I still do?
Considering where we ended up, I hope not, because I want you to be happy, with whoever it may be with.
That doesn't stop me from also wanting you to be happy with me, though.
Nobody ever will though, will they? Perhaps that's for the best. After all, I'm a hard person to actually know. My secrets are ones that you don't tell to anyone. The ones that ruin relationships if not told correctly. If my parents knew...
I don't want to think about it, honestly. They wouldn't be mad, or even disappointed. They'd blame themselves, wouldn't they? Blame themselves for not paying enough attention to me. Too bad that'd just make it worse.
And I wonder why I don't have many friends. Let's count the reasons!
I'm selfish, annoying, immature, fucked up, clingy, bitchy, bratty, weak... need I go on?
How could you have ever even liked me?
Beautiful, you called me. Average, I say
Kind. Selfish.
Funny. Annoying.
Strong. Weak.
Perfect. Fucked up.
Strange, isn't it? How we see ourselves? How others see us? I... don't know anymore. What's the point of love, if all that happens is you get hurt?
Yes, yes, I know. Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. But I'm just... I want to give up. I want to just stop loving people, because I only get hurt. Stop trusting, because every single time I trust somebody, my trust is broken. Shattered.
Like my heart.
There's nobody I can tell anything. And it's so... so... lonely. Caging. Like a prison, only mental. A mental cage, trapping all of my thoughts within my mind. Like real prisoners, they want to escape. They hate it. I do, too. Just... I want it to stop. I want to tell someone!
But I can't, because you left, and I'm here, all alone, and everybody else is gone. Funny how that works, huh? When you want to hide in your family's arms, your family is busy with other problem. You know, I thought I'd be used to everything by now.
I'm not. Not at all. And I never will be. Because every time I feel like I'm starting to actually be okay with it, somebody comes and makes everything better for a while then leaves me in the exact same place, only this time not okay because I just had a taste of freedom again. Freedom then thrown back into the cage. I'm a sunrise… such a laughable thought.
I'm not a sunrise, or a sunset, because those are beautiful. I'm not even just midnight because even that is beautiful in the unbroken blackness, where all is silent.
I'm just me. Plain and simple. Me. That's all I am, all I'll ever be.
Not even yours, not anymore.
Everyday Masquerade
Life, the greatest mistress of all, swings me around as we dance to the joyous and swift rhythm of her never ending song. The room and its inhabitants, thousands of masked people being drug along much the same as I, blur in my sight until it all just becomes one mass of color constantly swaying and shifting, never steady, never constant, never the same. My feet seem to never find the floor, always wildly kicking out at thin air that will never support my weight, and I feel like crying out.
Yet I remain silent. Despite my discomfort, I plaster on a fake smile as Life pauses shortly, pretending desperately as if everything is okay. Flickers of memories tug at my mind, claw and scream in a desperate plea for attention, but I shove them away by lunging into another frenzied dance.
As opposed to before, though, Life's song changes into a deep, crawling lament, something one usually doesn't dance to, and Life herself seems to understand that, oddly enough, as she, too, slows her pace. Unfortunately, the lack of action gives me all too much time to think. My smile begins to waver; tears begins to well up; my mask begins to crack.
Behind a deceptively vibrant and innocent mask, Life's eyes smile cruelly down at me as she takes in the wobbling of my once sure smile, the previously unseen glimmer in my eyes, the hairline fractures spreading over mask. Desperately, I shove the emotions back, stave off the breakdown for one more song, and force an aura of self-assuredness to wash over me.
One more dance, I beg myself. One more dance. Thankfully, the song abruptly switches to another song, tempo skyrocketing. Life's eyes brighten up in a worrying fashion; as I glance around, I realize that the crowd is slightly more sparse than previously. My heart plummets as true realization sinks in, but I don't have time to ponder upon my situation before I'm being swung around again.
Everything seems too fast. I pant for not coming breath as the room doesn't spin but doesn't stay still, my body being moved too fast for my eyes to comprehend. It's overwhelming, especially as the music grows louder and other instruments join. It begins to feel like I'm going to die; my body is moving too fast, I can't breathe, why is my heart beating so hard? I can't hear anything but oh God I hear too much, the own frenzied beat of my heart pounding in my ears along with everything else. I feel like I can't take it. No, I know I can't take it, and the glimpse of Life's eyes that I somehow manage to catch tells me that she knows it all too well.
I can't even scream for mercy, but, thankfully, the song ends as soon as it begins. Unfortunately, I find myself tossed in yet another whirlwind, the background music dying down to a simple, pleasant tune. While my feet still don't touch the ground, I can breathe, and I force myself to calm down before Life, cruel mistress that she is, catches my vulnerability. She's growing angry now, determined, and as I look around, I note that there are considerably less people. Allowing a cocky smirk to spread over my face, I, for the first time, utter two words that could be my undoing: "Let's dance."
Once again, my heart plummets at the sadistic look on her face, and I steel myself as much as possible for the upcoming dances. She takes me through everything, rapid fire, no break, and it's all I can do to keep a hold of myself. It feels like she's trying to tear my soul straight outside of my own body, set it alight with the force of her glare.
Grimly, I remind myself that she can't destroy what I don't have. Memories flash through me, like flashes of fire from the muzzle of a gun. My stomach turns against me amidst the never ending swirling I endure, but I shove the feelings away with everything else.
Eventually, Life flings me down onto the ground. We're the only ones left; she's the only failure while I'm the least heroic hero. Her eyes are blazes while her plump ruby lips twist into a snarl. Slowly, she clicks her way over to me, heels tapping against the icy marble loudly. Leaning down, she whispers into my ear and reminds me of everything I've done.
Without realizing it, my eyes slip shut. Lying here, back pressed against the cold floor, feels relieving after what I just experienced, but I can't stop the trembling. She laughs gently in my ear, breathily, and that small action reminds me of another time. Another's face doesn't flash through my mind but staples itself to the forefront, slowly staining red the longer I stare at it. Suddenly, the silence echoes in my mind, and I find myself drowning in my thoughts the exact next moment.
As hard as I try to hang on, everything comes crashing down. With a resounding crack, my mask breaks, and I face my future pathetically—tears stream down my face, eyes an ocean of overwhelming grief, and my hands shake like leaves. Life smirks down cruelly. Her hands stroke my chest sensually before tips of razor-like claws press against the cloth.
A scream threatens to bubble up, but it's silenced by her ruby lips within the next moment. She smirks against me before swiftly piercing through the flesh; I feel and hear her laugh as she tears through my chest to reach my heart. With a shudder, I gasp and clutch at her arm as her ice-cold touch clamps around the fiery ember of my heart, and, slowly, the heat dies until it's just a useless rock. My eyes close as warmth drains out of me steadily, and my last sight is of her holding my rock-heart in her hand with a triumphant grin.
"Even the greatest dance ends," she whispers just before the last of myself drains away.
Yet I remain silent. Despite my discomfort, I plaster on a fake smile as Life pauses shortly, pretending desperately as if everything is okay. Flickers of memories tug at my mind, claw and scream in a desperate plea for attention, but I shove them away by lunging into another frenzied dance.
As opposed to before, though, Life's song changes into a deep, crawling lament, something one usually doesn't dance to, and Life herself seems to understand that, oddly enough, as she, too, slows her pace. Unfortunately, the lack of action gives me all too much time to think. My smile begins to waver; tears begins to well up; my mask begins to crack.
Behind a deceptively vibrant and innocent mask, Life's eyes smile cruelly down at me as she takes in the wobbling of my once sure smile, the previously unseen glimmer in my eyes, the hairline fractures spreading over mask. Desperately, I shove the emotions back, stave off the breakdown for one more song, and force an aura of self-assuredness to wash over me.
One more dance, I beg myself. One more dance. Thankfully, the song abruptly switches to another song, tempo skyrocketing. Life's eyes brighten up in a worrying fashion; as I glance around, I realize that the crowd is slightly more sparse than previously. My heart plummets as true realization sinks in, but I don't have time to ponder upon my situation before I'm being swung around again.
Everything seems too fast. I pant for not coming breath as the room doesn't spin but doesn't stay still, my body being moved too fast for my eyes to comprehend. It's overwhelming, especially as the music grows louder and other instruments join. It begins to feel like I'm going to die; my body is moving too fast, I can't breathe, why is my heart beating so hard? I can't hear anything but oh God I hear too much, the own frenzied beat of my heart pounding in my ears along with everything else. I feel like I can't take it. No, I know I can't take it, and the glimpse of Life's eyes that I somehow manage to catch tells me that she knows it all too well.
I can't even scream for mercy, but, thankfully, the song ends as soon as it begins. Unfortunately, I find myself tossed in yet another whirlwind, the background music dying down to a simple, pleasant tune. While my feet still don't touch the ground, I can breathe, and I force myself to calm down before Life, cruel mistress that she is, catches my vulnerability. She's growing angry now, determined, and as I look around, I note that there are considerably less people. Allowing a cocky smirk to spread over my face, I, for the first time, utter two words that could be my undoing: "Let's dance."
Once again, my heart plummets at the sadistic look on her face, and I steel myself as much as possible for the upcoming dances. She takes me through everything, rapid fire, no break, and it's all I can do to keep a hold of myself. It feels like she's trying to tear my soul straight outside of my own body, set it alight with the force of her glare.
Grimly, I remind myself that she can't destroy what I don't have. Memories flash through me, like flashes of fire from the muzzle of a gun. My stomach turns against me amidst the never ending swirling I endure, but I shove the feelings away with everything else.
Eventually, Life flings me down onto the ground. We're the only ones left; she's the only failure while I'm the least heroic hero. Her eyes are blazes while her plump ruby lips twist into a snarl. Slowly, she clicks her way over to me, heels tapping against the icy marble loudly. Leaning down, she whispers into my ear and reminds me of everything I've done.
Without realizing it, my eyes slip shut. Lying here, back pressed against the cold floor, feels relieving after what I just experienced, but I can't stop the trembling. She laughs gently in my ear, breathily, and that small action reminds me of another time. Another's face doesn't flash through my mind but staples itself to the forefront, slowly staining red the longer I stare at it. Suddenly, the silence echoes in my mind, and I find myself drowning in my thoughts the exact next moment.
As hard as I try to hang on, everything comes crashing down. With a resounding crack, my mask breaks, and I face my future pathetically—tears stream down my face, eyes an ocean of overwhelming grief, and my hands shake like leaves. Life smirks down cruelly. Her hands stroke my chest sensually before tips of razor-like claws press against the cloth.
A scream threatens to bubble up, but it's silenced by her ruby lips within the next moment. She smirks against me before swiftly piercing through the flesh; I feel and hear her laugh as she tears through my chest to reach my heart. With a shudder, I gasp and clutch at her arm as her ice-cold touch clamps around the fiery ember of my heart, and, slowly, the heat dies until it's just a useless rock. My eyes close as warmth drains out of me steadily, and my last sight is of her holding my rock-heart in her hand with a triumphant grin.
"Even the greatest dance ends," she whispers just before the last of myself drains away.
Don't Need You
As soon as Zyran transports me back near the camp, I rush towards where the others should be, frantically searching for any sign of me, but when I arrive, there's nothing. Not even a mere scrap of paper saying bye. At first, I think he just put me in the wrong place and that it's all just a mistake, but then I notice the burn marks and scratches from where Saikil and Iraemith were sparring.
"So… they left without me," I mutter to myself. My eyes scan the small area repeatedly, increasingly desperate with each failure, and a sudden burst of hatred and rage flows through me. They left without me!
Without really realizing it, I carelessly toss my hat to the side and fist my hands in my hair, trying desperately to calm down. My eyes squeeze shut as I start to shake, and my breathing roughens. After a few seconds of vainly trying to calm down, I whirl around and stride over to a tree. For a few seconds, I stare at it, take in the marks, and then something in me snaps. Screaming through clenched teeth, I slam my closed fists against the rough, stone-like bark, sending almost overbearing pain through me.
"Stupid waste of space!" I hiss in pained anger, aimed at both myself and the tree, as I hurriedly pull my hands up to my chest. Blood flows steadily down my busted knuckles, miraculously unbroken but almost surely intensely bruised and cut up. Still, my rage purrs happily, having been sated, and I rest against the tree.
They left without me. The thought echoes in my mind, and the tears that my fury held back now come rushing forwards. Feeling small and pathetic and alone, I bury my head in my arms in an attempt to muffle the loud, childish sobs, and so many memories of doing the exact same thing in some random, isolated corner rush to the front of my mind and make me cry harder.
"I-I don't need them," I mumble weakly, wiping away tears. Unfortunately, it makes my wounds sting and just spreads blood to my face, and I find myself pouting childishly as I stare down at my hands. I'm a child, I think to myself. No wonder they left me.
Who wants a stupid hybrid child leading them into danger? I laugh hollowly to myself and slowly stand up, a little wobbly and unstable. They've been planning to leave me for a while now, haven't they? That's why they've been so weird and distant lately, even Saikil.
"If they don't want me, then I don't want them," I voice to empty air. The act of talking to myself makes me feel more alone and insane, but I do it anyways. Blood drips off my hands and onto the ground, distracting me, and I find myself hypnotized by the simple display of gravity. Slowly, the blood stops falling as it coagulates, and, shaking my head to get rid of the odd daze, I walk over to where I haphazardly tossed my hat. Carefully, I bend down and pick it up, looking around one final time.
I don't need them, I tell myself. If they needed me, they'd have summoned me, so obviously they hate me. I should have seen this coming; people can only spend so much time around me, the semi-real me and not the fake me I parade around, before they get sick of it.
Well, no more. From now on, I'm just going to be true to myself. Screw not causing a scene, screw not worrying others, screw it all. I'm myself, and I don't anybody. A part of me wonders if I'm not just being overdramatic and overreacting, but I shove that part away as I start walking down the slope back towards Crinsarin, tears still dripping down my pale, blood-stained cheeks the entire way.
"So… they left without me," I mutter to myself. My eyes scan the small area repeatedly, increasingly desperate with each failure, and a sudden burst of hatred and rage flows through me. They left without me!
Without really realizing it, I carelessly toss my hat to the side and fist my hands in my hair, trying desperately to calm down. My eyes squeeze shut as I start to shake, and my breathing roughens. After a few seconds of vainly trying to calm down, I whirl around and stride over to a tree. For a few seconds, I stare at it, take in the marks, and then something in me snaps. Screaming through clenched teeth, I slam my closed fists against the rough, stone-like bark, sending almost overbearing pain through me.
"Stupid waste of space!" I hiss in pained anger, aimed at both myself and the tree, as I hurriedly pull my hands up to my chest. Blood flows steadily down my busted knuckles, miraculously unbroken but almost surely intensely bruised and cut up. Still, my rage purrs happily, having been sated, and I rest against the tree.
They left without me. The thought echoes in my mind, and the tears that my fury held back now come rushing forwards. Feeling small and pathetic and alone, I bury my head in my arms in an attempt to muffle the loud, childish sobs, and so many memories of doing the exact same thing in some random, isolated corner rush to the front of my mind and make me cry harder.
"I-I don't need them," I mumble weakly, wiping away tears. Unfortunately, it makes my wounds sting and just spreads blood to my face, and I find myself pouting childishly as I stare down at my hands. I'm a child, I think to myself. No wonder they left me.
Who wants a stupid hybrid child leading them into danger? I laugh hollowly to myself and slowly stand up, a little wobbly and unstable. They've been planning to leave me for a while now, haven't they? That's why they've been so weird and distant lately, even Saikil.
"If they don't want me, then I don't want them," I voice to empty air. The act of talking to myself makes me feel more alone and insane, but I do it anyways. Blood drips off my hands and onto the ground, distracting me, and I find myself hypnotized by the simple display of gravity. Slowly, the blood stops falling as it coagulates, and, shaking my head to get rid of the odd daze, I walk over to where I haphazardly tossed my hat. Carefully, I bend down and pick it up, looking around one final time.
I don't need them, I tell myself. If they needed me, they'd have summoned me, so obviously they hate me. I should have seen this coming; people can only spend so much time around me, the semi-real me and not the fake me I parade around, before they get sick of it.
Well, no more. From now on, I'm just going to be true to myself. Screw not causing a scene, screw not worrying others, screw it all. I'm myself, and I don't anybody. A part of me wonders if I'm not just being overdramatic and overreacting, but I shove that part away as I start walking down the slope back towards Crinsarin, tears still dripping down my pale, blood-stained cheeks the entire way.
Always
A craving starts deep my soul, a craving that I will never be able to satiate. It grows and grows until it consumes my entire being, snapping up my body in a cavernous maw of need.
I can't live without you. Why can't you see that? I cry out desperately in the dark, searching for the one person that could end this hell I live, but, as always, silence meets me. The weight of my loneliness, of my desperation, forces me to my knees; tears flow like rivers down my face, blurring my eyesight. It doesn't matter if my vision is blurry, though, because there's no light without you.
"Please!" I scream. My voice cracks, and my heart shatters. I'll always crave you, always love you, but I hate everything about you, even the air you breathe and the ground you touch.
I hate you for leaving me like this. My body quakes with the civil war within me, love and hate clashing in a bloody battle that will never have a victor. Am I fated to forever crave the one person I can never have? The future seems bleak as I stare blankly at the dimly lit room around me, the first fingers of the sun gently extending into my sanctuary.
In my head, all I can envision is the beast known as unrequited love slowly trapping me within its clawed grasp, scaly talons closing around my limp body to hold me still as the gaping jaws descend. They shall close around me with a sharp snap, and in the blink of an eye, everything about me will simply cease to exist. My steadily dimming flame will finally die out pathetically, the single ember that glows giving out.
Unlike a phoenix, I won't rise up from the ashes. No, once this flame disappears, it stays gone. Some part of me wonders if it hasn't already gone out long ago and if part of my attraction to you was a vain attempt at reigniting it. If so, how spectacular a failure because my body only seems colder.
As if mocking me, the world grows even colder, and I curl up against myself to save body heat. Tremors shake my fragile world, spreading cracks and demolishing everything I've ever built.
You're always warm, I can't help but think. You're always on my mind, too. You're always… there. I see you everywhere, catch a glimpse of your face in the crowd or manage to snatch up the faintest whisper of your voice in a room. Even when I'm alone.
I'm insane. The realization comes softer than I expected it to, but at the same time I've been wondering it for so long that it really shouldn't surprise me at all. Of course I'm crazy; why the hell else would I be ripping myself apart over somebody who never cared? Why else would I actually believe in anything?
Only crazy people believe in fantasies, I conclude, and that's what everything is.
"It's all just a fantasy, a dream, something I've conjured up to make myself feel better," I mutter under my breath in the loneliness of the icy dawn, angry but numb and yet relieved.
Angry because how the hell could this happen to me, why did I believe in any of this, why me?
Numb because I've felt so much that there's nothing left to feel, the previously vibrant and roaring conflagration of my soul dying down into ashes of what was and what will never be.
Relieved because now I don't have to feel any of that pain ever again, never will I find myself playing make-believe and breaking down when even all the wishing and trying in the world doesn't make fantasy reality.
I've always played pretend. I've always shoved the then-cruel monster of reality away in favor of the then-sweet pet of fantasy, but now it's clear. Reality is the pet while fantasy is the monster because reality doesn't lie and sneak and cheat but fantasy does.
Nodding, I feel the physical weight of caring lift. The craving lifts, too, and it seems like I follow. For a few seconds, the ground beneath me disappears and the world flips as I fall backwards, temporarily unable to hold myself up as a wave of emotions drown me suddenly. They leave just as soon as they came, and I find myself staring at the ceiling blankly, unable to find the energy to move or even really breathe. Eventually, my eyes close, and I slip into an uneasy and restless sleep full of monsters and beasts and you and an endless craving that I can't satisfy while the sun shines even brighter through my blinds.
The nights are always the same. The days are always the same. My life is always the same war between good and evil, caring and not caring, reality and unreality, loving and hating, and even the greatest of soldiers can only survive constant, never ending warfare for so long.
I'm not the greatest of soldiers.
I can't live without you. Why can't you see that? I cry out desperately in the dark, searching for the one person that could end this hell I live, but, as always, silence meets me. The weight of my loneliness, of my desperation, forces me to my knees; tears flow like rivers down my face, blurring my eyesight. It doesn't matter if my vision is blurry, though, because there's no light without you.
"Please!" I scream. My voice cracks, and my heart shatters. I'll always crave you, always love you, but I hate everything about you, even the air you breathe and the ground you touch.
I hate you for leaving me like this. My body quakes with the civil war within me, love and hate clashing in a bloody battle that will never have a victor. Am I fated to forever crave the one person I can never have? The future seems bleak as I stare blankly at the dimly lit room around me, the first fingers of the sun gently extending into my sanctuary.
In my head, all I can envision is the beast known as unrequited love slowly trapping me within its clawed grasp, scaly talons closing around my limp body to hold me still as the gaping jaws descend. They shall close around me with a sharp snap, and in the blink of an eye, everything about me will simply cease to exist. My steadily dimming flame will finally die out pathetically, the single ember that glows giving out.
Unlike a phoenix, I won't rise up from the ashes. No, once this flame disappears, it stays gone. Some part of me wonders if it hasn't already gone out long ago and if part of my attraction to you was a vain attempt at reigniting it. If so, how spectacular a failure because my body only seems colder.
As if mocking me, the world grows even colder, and I curl up against myself to save body heat. Tremors shake my fragile world, spreading cracks and demolishing everything I've ever built.
You're always warm, I can't help but think. You're always on my mind, too. You're always… there. I see you everywhere, catch a glimpse of your face in the crowd or manage to snatch up the faintest whisper of your voice in a room. Even when I'm alone.
I'm insane. The realization comes softer than I expected it to, but at the same time I've been wondering it for so long that it really shouldn't surprise me at all. Of course I'm crazy; why the hell else would I be ripping myself apart over somebody who never cared? Why else would I actually believe in anything?
Only crazy people believe in fantasies, I conclude, and that's what everything is.
"It's all just a fantasy, a dream, something I've conjured up to make myself feel better," I mutter under my breath in the loneliness of the icy dawn, angry but numb and yet relieved.
Angry because how the hell could this happen to me, why did I believe in any of this, why me?
Numb because I've felt so much that there's nothing left to feel, the previously vibrant and roaring conflagration of my soul dying down into ashes of what was and what will never be.
Relieved because now I don't have to feel any of that pain ever again, never will I find myself playing make-believe and breaking down when even all the wishing and trying in the world doesn't make fantasy reality.
I've always played pretend. I've always shoved the then-cruel monster of reality away in favor of the then-sweet pet of fantasy, but now it's clear. Reality is the pet while fantasy is the monster because reality doesn't lie and sneak and cheat but fantasy does.
Nodding, I feel the physical weight of caring lift. The craving lifts, too, and it seems like I follow. For a few seconds, the ground beneath me disappears and the world flips as I fall backwards, temporarily unable to hold myself up as a wave of emotions drown me suddenly. They leave just as soon as they came, and I find myself staring at the ceiling blankly, unable to find the energy to move or even really breathe. Eventually, my eyes close, and I slip into an uneasy and restless sleep full of monsters and beasts and you and an endless craving that I can't satisfy while the sun shines even brighter through my blinds.
The nights are always the same. The days are always the same. My life is always the same war between good and evil, caring and not caring, reality and unreality, loving and hating, and even the greatest of soldiers can only survive constant, never ending warfare for so long.
I'm not the greatest of soldiers.
Yellow
Note: this is the third part in a more or less experimental book that I've been working on; I've been more focused on portraying emotions as opposed to making sure everything is as realistic as possible. Please keep that in mind as you read.
~~~
Everything is yellow. It seems forced. Fake. A cheap, plastic knock-off. The yellow slowly clumps together into misshapen lump of fake, a pitiful representation of anything real.
I numbly pull on some clothes and practice a fake smile. The me in the mirror smiles back, a perfect picture of happiness and carelessness. Her wounds are covered by cloth or make-up, and absolutely nothing suggests that she is abnormal. It makes me sick. Suddenly, a wave of nausea overwhelms me; I'm lucky to make it to the toilet quick enough. Wave after wave hits until everything in my stomach is expunged, throat and nasal passage burning with the after-effects of stomach acid.
A form rises from a corner, stumbling about on uneven legs while bits and pieces fall off with every erratic movement, and slowly the world begins to shake with the creature, crashing down around me with thunderous noises and physic-breaking movements.
I finish my morning duties and just stand numbly on my porch, staring out at the world with a stupid look on my face. Happiness feels so unrealistic, so dumb. I hate it. The thought makes me smile more. Smile through the pain, you whisper in my mind. I shove your voice away and begin walking, desperate to escape everything.
The misfit beast slowly approaches. My legs refuse to cooperate, and I am forced to remain still in the face of impending doom. A vaguely unsettling, cartoonish face is plastered onto the creature's head in an awkward and discomforting shade of yellow; in fact, everything about the monster is so minutely off that all of it together creates something so wrong that it's paralyzing. A piece of yellow bounces off of my face, giving me enough willpower to scream and back away quickly. The world continues to crumble every time the yellow beast steps, and it is only through luck or divine willpower that I am not hit by a massive chunk of bright scenery.
My peers surround me, a mixture of compassion and ridicule. I smile through it all, even when I catch a glimpse of you and her. Your smile is plastic, just like she is.
I know you better. You can't be happy with her. In a last ditch attempt to salvage my scraps of sanity, I sneak a second glance at you and her. Her arms are wound around your waist, something you told me you always hated, and she's obviously forcing you to stand so close to her because she's clingy and obsessive and you would never do that. Ever. You always made it clear how much you hate public displays of affection. I nod to myself and continue on my way casually, ignoring another wave of nausea.
The beast makes an odd, stuttering noise. Once I recognize it as laughter, anger flows through my veins, and the world flashes quickly between yellow and red. The monster seems confused, and it quickly and awkwardly lopes towards me. As quick as it appeared, the anger fades away and leaves me in a sea of yellow once again.
Everyone around me is just as fake as I am, but that's okay. If everyone is a lie, those lies become the truth, so if we all pretend we're happy, we'll be happy.
Right? Doubt gnaws at my mind, but I shove it away and take my seat, ignoring you as you walk in with the same cheap smile forced onto your face. You never had to be a fake around me, but if you want to screw yourself over, go ahead.
You'll get tired of this game. Just you wait.
Yellow piles up beside me, flopping and glopping in such an unnerving manner that I end up walking towards the beast in an attempt to escape. I'm surrounded. The monster continues its slow, erratic advance while the goop creeps around my ankles and climbs up. I scream, even though nothing hurts and I'm not scared. Everything is just so wrong. I'm wrong. Life is wrong. Is it possible for reality to be so fake? Is this reality? What is real? I begin to feel my sanity slip away as the world slowly clicks into place, coming together like a puzzle.
I make it through the rest of the day in the same plastic smile. My cheeks hurt from being stretched for so long, and everything else aches deeply. You approach in your usual cocky manner, and I watch carefully. People part for you, as always, and your destination is clearly... me. For the first time, my smile becomes real.
"Look. Um my girlfriend wanted me to apologized to you and all so... I'm sorry," you say. I blink. My breath escapes me as everything crashes down with a sudden harshness, and I come close to vomiting for a third time. The world sways and turns into an oil pointing, if the brush strokes were animated. There is no quick recovery. I slam against the ground, and no one comes to help. You stand there, looking down at me, and the last piece of the puzzle slides into place.
Everyone else is real. This is reality. I'm the only one who is living a fake life, who has only ever truly smiled around a person who has never truly smiled around me. The realization leaves me numb, but I manage to plaster on my same old smile and shake myself off before striding away with a confidence I can only pretend to have. Reality turns into ultra-reality as I become extremely aware of everything around me. The stone is real. The grass is real. The clouds are real. Everything is real.
Including my own past. I fight off yet another wave of nausea and vertigo, hurriedly rushing into my house. I slide down and simply lean against the wall, staring blankly ahead.
Everything is yellow, but that's okay. The creature sits before me, mouth gaping and drooling and menacing, but it's okay. Claws are mere inches away from severing a limb or two or four, but that's okay.
It's all okay because I'm happy. As long as I'm happy, nothing is wrong. As long as nothing is wrong, I'm happy. I nod to myself and pat the creature, whose face seems less menacing but still the same ugly color of yellow. The monster roars and slams its claws into my side, and I watch in fascination as I begin to bleed yellow. My gaze transfers to the steadily diminishing view of the yellow world from underneath, but all too soon I'm submerged in a sea of yellow-tinted black, happily dazed and unable to think. It's okay. I don't want to think, anyways.
In the end, everything is still yellow.
~~~
Everything is yellow. It seems forced. Fake. A cheap, plastic knock-off. The yellow slowly clumps together into misshapen lump of fake, a pitiful representation of anything real.
I numbly pull on some clothes and practice a fake smile. The me in the mirror smiles back, a perfect picture of happiness and carelessness. Her wounds are covered by cloth or make-up, and absolutely nothing suggests that she is abnormal. It makes me sick. Suddenly, a wave of nausea overwhelms me; I'm lucky to make it to the toilet quick enough. Wave after wave hits until everything in my stomach is expunged, throat and nasal passage burning with the after-effects of stomach acid.
A form rises from a corner, stumbling about on uneven legs while bits and pieces fall off with every erratic movement, and slowly the world begins to shake with the creature, crashing down around me with thunderous noises and physic-breaking movements.
I finish my morning duties and just stand numbly on my porch, staring out at the world with a stupid look on my face. Happiness feels so unrealistic, so dumb. I hate it. The thought makes me smile more. Smile through the pain, you whisper in my mind. I shove your voice away and begin walking, desperate to escape everything.
The misfit beast slowly approaches. My legs refuse to cooperate, and I am forced to remain still in the face of impending doom. A vaguely unsettling, cartoonish face is plastered onto the creature's head in an awkward and discomforting shade of yellow; in fact, everything about the monster is so minutely off that all of it together creates something so wrong that it's paralyzing. A piece of yellow bounces off of my face, giving me enough willpower to scream and back away quickly. The world continues to crumble every time the yellow beast steps, and it is only through luck or divine willpower that I am not hit by a massive chunk of bright scenery.
My peers surround me, a mixture of compassion and ridicule. I smile through it all, even when I catch a glimpse of you and her. Your smile is plastic, just like she is.
I know you better. You can't be happy with her. In a last ditch attempt to salvage my scraps of sanity, I sneak a second glance at you and her. Her arms are wound around your waist, something you told me you always hated, and she's obviously forcing you to stand so close to her because she's clingy and obsessive and you would never do that. Ever. You always made it clear how much you hate public displays of affection. I nod to myself and continue on my way casually, ignoring another wave of nausea.
The beast makes an odd, stuttering noise. Once I recognize it as laughter, anger flows through my veins, and the world flashes quickly between yellow and red. The monster seems confused, and it quickly and awkwardly lopes towards me. As quick as it appeared, the anger fades away and leaves me in a sea of yellow once again.
Everyone around me is just as fake as I am, but that's okay. If everyone is a lie, those lies become the truth, so if we all pretend we're happy, we'll be happy.
Right? Doubt gnaws at my mind, but I shove it away and take my seat, ignoring you as you walk in with the same cheap smile forced onto your face. You never had to be a fake around me, but if you want to screw yourself over, go ahead.
You'll get tired of this game. Just you wait.
Yellow piles up beside me, flopping and glopping in such an unnerving manner that I end up walking towards the beast in an attempt to escape. I'm surrounded. The monster continues its slow, erratic advance while the goop creeps around my ankles and climbs up. I scream, even though nothing hurts and I'm not scared. Everything is just so wrong. I'm wrong. Life is wrong. Is it possible for reality to be so fake? Is this reality? What is real? I begin to feel my sanity slip away as the world slowly clicks into place, coming together like a puzzle.
I make it through the rest of the day in the same plastic smile. My cheeks hurt from being stretched for so long, and everything else aches deeply. You approach in your usual cocky manner, and I watch carefully. People part for you, as always, and your destination is clearly... me. For the first time, my smile becomes real.
"Look. Um my girlfriend wanted me to apologized to you and all so... I'm sorry," you say. I blink. My breath escapes me as everything crashes down with a sudden harshness, and I come close to vomiting for a third time. The world sways and turns into an oil pointing, if the brush strokes were animated. There is no quick recovery. I slam against the ground, and no one comes to help. You stand there, looking down at me, and the last piece of the puzzle slides into place.
Everyone else is real. This is reality. I'm the only one who is living a fake life, who has only ever truly smiled around a person who has never truly smiled around me. The realization leaves me numb, but I manage to plaster on my same old smile and shake myself off before striding away with a confidence I can only pretend to have. Reality turns into ultra-reality as I become extremely aware of everything around me. The stone is real. The grass is real. The clouds are real. Everything is real.
Including my own past. I fight off yet another wave of nausea and vertigo, hurriedly rushing into my house. I slide down and simply lean against the wall, staring blankly ahead.
Everything is yellow, but that's okay. The creature sits before me, mouth gaping and drooling and menacing, but it's okay. Claws are mere inches away from severing a limb or two or four, but that's okay.
It's all okay because I'm happy. As long as I'm happy, nothing is wrong. As long as nothing is wrong, I'm happy. I nod to myself and pat the creature, whose face seems less menacing but still the same ugly color of yellow. The monster roars and slams its claws into my side, and I watch in fascination as I begin to bleed yellow. My gaze transfers to the steadily diminishing view of the yellow world from underneath, but all too soon I'm submerged in a sea of yellow-tinted black, happily dazed and unable to think. It's okay. I don't want to think, anyways.
In the end, everything is still yellow.
Apathy
Everything is white.
Why is it always white? Not that I care, I've begun to think that I've lost the ability. It's faded into an empty curiosity that replaces normal emotions.
Everything is always white.
It'd be nice to have another color, but I can't exactly remember why. Is it just to break up the whiteness? The once-unbearable need for color has been replaced by dullness.
There's red, too, before the janitors make everything white again.
The habit had begun long ago, before the sea of emotions had been drained. Now it's just an empty basin, a reminder of what had been without exactly telling me what it was like.
I've spent my entire life here.
But no, that can't be right. I can remember other colors, other faces.
Maybe they have differently colored rooms? But what would explain the level of freedom I used to long for? What would explain everything I remember?
Think I remember, at least. I'm not sure. The therapist told me that memory suppression is normal, but why would I suppress my memories?
That question used to keep me up, back when I still cared. Day and night—is there a difference?—I'd pace around this, this... room, this room. I'd pace around this room and... what was I going to say? Was there ever a time I walked?
I've been sitting here for hours.
Or has it been minutes?
"Nic? Are you feeling any better?" Nurse questions. She's been taking care of me since... since forever. I blankly nod, trying to remember a time when I didn't know her.
She interrupts the useless process by asking me a question, one that brings the faintest feeling of emotions back.
"Are you happy to get out of here?" Nurse asks, giving me a bright smile, and I almost feel surprised. Getting out? This was the world. There was nowhere but here.
"W-what?" I stammer, shaking my head. It felt as though I had been awakened from a long sleep. My body felt tired, my mind too awake and yet too fuzzy at the same time, but there was an odd clarity.
Nurse sighs, not irritated but arriving there, and I almost flinch away. "You're. Leaving. That's simple enough for you to understand, right?" Her smile seems fake, and I begin to realize that whatever illusion I had created was false.
The walls were not white.
The nurse never smiled.
The memories were always there.
I can't stop the trembling of my hands, can't regain my breath, can't make sense of the world. What's happened? Why can't I breathe? Help, how do I breathe?
Why is the world swimming? Why aren't the walls white why isn't the nurse smiling why do I still remember?
The white—not white, I remind myself, because white is soothing and nice and clean and the walls are dirty and everything opposite of nice—fade out into black.
When I awake, I'm in another white room. The nurse is gone, but my therapist has replaced her.
"What caused your panic attack this time?" Dr. Happy questioned, looking anything but.
"I'm getting out," I said slowly, looking around the room. A sense of disbelief hits.
This isn't my life. This isn't me.
The me I know isn't this me but rather a me who didn't kill anyone, didn't do anything wrong. The me I know isn't trapped in this non-white room.
The me I know is... the me I know... the me... who am I?
Not this person.
But I am. I am this person, sitting in front of Dr. Unhappy in a non-white room on a chair stained red. I am the person who killed his brother.
But I didn't kill him, did I? No.
It wasn't me.
But it was. He was the one who killed himself but I was the cause and that makes me just as much the murderer. Right? Right. I'm right, aren't I? And if I aren't, then why do I feel right?
But I don't feel right. I feel wrong. All of this is wrong.
The pain snaps me out of my thoughts. Dr. Unhappy—or is he Dr. Happy?—sits back in his chair.
"Now, let's begin today's session. How do you feel?" he questions. I blink at him.
Feel? How do I… feel? Confused, I rack my mind to find the answer. I feel wrong. I nod and repeat the answer out loud, twice without realizing it. Dr. Unhappy jots something down on the paper before him, and he begins to question me. After years of senseless questioning, he finally writes something down on his paper.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but I don't think it's in your best interest to leave quite yet. Nurse, take him back," the doctor calls over the smiling nurse, and she leads me back to my room with a smile even brighter than when she… she lied to me.
She lied to me. He lied to me. He died. He's dead. Dead. You killed him, Nic, you killed him and now you're going to kill her because you're insane and that's what insane people do. They snap. Do you want to snap, Nic?
I'm not sure.
Do you want to be free?
I'm free enough already.
Do you want to be free?
I'm free.
Do you want to be free?
I'm… free, aren't I? I'm free. I can do whatever I want, right? Right? Answer me, please!
No voice answers me, but the sound of a slamming door and a lock clicking shut does.
I'm not free. I want to be free. Free from the insanity, free from the lies. Free from myself. From this apathy. Nodding, I sit on my bed and reach under my pillow where the key lays.
They won't care. They don't care.
I don't care. I never will.
Hello, apathy.
Nothingness.
Why is it always white? Not that I care, I've begun to think that I've lost the ability. It's faded into an empty curiosity that replaces normal emotions.
Everything is always white.
It'd be nice to have another color, but I can't exactly remember why. Is it just to break up the whiteness? The once-unbearable need for color has been replaced by dullness.
There's red, too, before the janitors make everything white again.
The habit had begun long ago, before the sea of emotions had been drained. Now it's just an empty basin, a reminder of what had been without exactly telling me what it was like.
I've spent my entire life here.
But no, that can't be right. I can remember other colors, other faces.
Maybe they have differently colored rooms? But what would explain the level of freedom I used to long for? What would explain everything I remember?
Think I remember, at least. I'm not sure. The therapist told me that memory suppression is normal, but why would I suppress my memories?
That question used to keep me up, back when I still cared. Day and night—is there a difference?—I'd pace around this, this... room, this room. I'd pace around this room and... what was I going to say? Was there ever a time I walked?
I've been sitting here for hours.
Or has it been minutes?
"Nic? Are you feeling any better?" Nurse questions. She's been taking care of me since... since forever. I blankly nod, trying to remember a time when I didn't know her.
She interrupts the useless process by asking me a question, one that brings the faintest feeling of emotions back.
"Are you happy to get out of here?" Nurse asks, giving me a bright smile, and I almost feel surprised. Getting out? This was the world. There was nowhere but here.
"W-what?" I stammer, shaking my head. It felt as though I had been awakened from a long sleep. My body felt tired, my mind too awake and yet too fuzzy at the same time, but there was an odd clarity.
Nurse sighs, not irritated but arriving there, and I almost flinch away. "You're. Leaving. That's simple enough for you to understand, right?" Her smile seems fake, and I begin to realize that whatever illusion I had created was false.
The walls were not white.
The nurse never smiled.
The memories were always there.
I can't stop the trembling of my hands, can't regain my breath, can't make sense of the world. What's happened? Why can't I breathe? Help, how do I breathe?
Why is the world swimming? Why aren't the walls white why isn't the nurse smiling why do I still remember?
The white—not white, I remind myself, because white is soothing and nice and clean and the walls are dirty and everything opposite of nice—fade out into black.
When I awake, I'm in another white room. The nurse is gone, but my therapist has replaced her.
"What caused your panic attack this time?" Dr. Happy questioned, looking anything but.
"I'm getting out," I said slowly, looking around the room. A sense of disbelief hits.
This isn't my life. This isn't me.
The me I know isn't this me but rather a me who didn't kill anyone, didn't do anything wrong. The me I know isn't trapped in this non-white room.
The me I know is... the me I know... the me... who am I?
Not this person.
But I am. I am this person, sitting in front of Dr. Unhappy in a non-white room on a chair stained red. I am the person who killed his brother.
But I didn't kill him, did I? No.
It wasn't me.
But it was. He was the one who killed himself but I was the cause and that makes me just as much the murderer. Right? Right. I'm right, aren't I? And if I aren't, then why do I feel right?
But I don't feel right. I feel wrong. All of this is wrong.
The pain snaps me out of my thoughts. Dr. Unhappy—or is he Dr. Happy?—sits back in his chair.
"Now, let's begin today's session. How do you feel?" he questions. I blink at him.
Feel? How do I… feel? Confused, I rack my mind to find the answer. I feel wrong. I nod and repeat the answer out loud, twice without realizing it. Dr. Unhappy jots something down on the paper before him, and he begins to question me. After years of senseless questioning, he finally writes something down on his paper.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but I don't think it's in your best interest to leave quite yet. Nurse, take him back," the doctor calls over the smiling nurse, and she leads me back to my room with a smile even brighter than when she… she lied to me.
She lied to me. He lied to me. He died. He's dead. Dead. You killed him, Nic, you killed him and now you're going to kill her because you're insane and that's what insane people do. They snap. Do you want to snap, Nic?
I'm not sure.
Do you want to be free?
I'm free enough already.
Do you want to be free?
I'm free.
Do you want to be free?
I'm… free, aren't I? I'm free. I can do whatever I want, right? Right? Answer me, please!
No voice answers me, but the sound of a slamming door and a lock clicking shut does.
I'm not free. I want to be free. Free from the insanity, free from the lies. Free from myself. From this apathy. Nodding, I sit on my bed and reach under my pillow where the key lays.
They won't care. They don't care.
I don't care. I never will.
Hello, apathy.
Nothingness.
Reflections
Mirrors… I hate them, yet they fascinate me. I glare harder at my reflection but find myself unable to turn away. My eyes trace the lines that cover my body, memories of my father's cruel training, and they drift up to my currently natural hair.
"Time to dye it again," I mumble to myself, more to reassure my panicking mind that it will be okay. I won't have to deal with this much longer, I remind myself. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and try to work up the will to turn my back on the reflection of myself, my past.
I can't. With a strangled scream, my eyes fly open while my hands clench the counter so hard it almost breaks. My breath comes out in harsh, angry pants, and I begin throwing things out of the cabinet as I try desperately to find the dye. Things shatter and break behind me, surprisingly not drawing the attention of anybody, and finally I come out with several bottles of hair dye in my hand: electric blue, dark purple, and vibrant green. Taking a deep breath to calm down, I robotically clean up the mess.
I am calm, I remind myself. I am collected. I am not my father. I am not my father. I am not my father. This chant helps calm me down enough for the horrendous shaking in my hands to ease. Not stop, it never stops, but ease to be manageable. With another slow breath, I begin the process of dying my hair.
As always, the process brings me as close to happy as I can get. There's something liberating about getting one step further from my parents, and I let myself calm down. By the time I'm finished, my hands shake only very slightly, and my aggression lays a safe distance away from the surface once again. With a faint smile, I look at myself in the mirror once again and focus on my hair. Blue, purple, green. Not red, not black. Unnatural. Not natural.
Me, not them.
"Time to dye it again," I mumble to myself, more to reassure my panicking mind that it will be okay. I won't have to deal with this much longer, I remind myself. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and try to work up the will to turn my back on the reflection of myself, my past.
I can't. With a strangled scream, my eyes fly open while my hands clench the counter so hard it almost breaks. My breath comes out in harsh, angry pants, and I begin throwing things out of the cabinet as I try desperately to find the dye. Things shatter and break behind me, surprisingly not drawing the attention of anybody, and finally I come out with several bottles of hair dye in my hand: electric blue, dark purple, and vibrant green. Taking a deep breath to calm down, I robotically clean up the mess.
I am calm, I remind myself. I am collected. I am not my father. I am not my father. I am not my father. This chant helps calm me down enough for the horrendous shaking in my hands to ease. Not stop, it never stops, but ease to be manageable. With another slow breath, I begin the process of dying my hair.
As always, the process brings me as close to happy as I can get. There's something liberating about getting one step further from my parents, and I let myself calm down. By the time I'm finished, my hands shake only very slightly, and my aggression lays a safe distance away from the surface once again. With a faint smile, I look at myself in the mirror once again and focus on my hair. Blue, purple, green. Not red, not black. Unnatural. Not natural.
Me, not them.
Frozen Prince
I curled up tighter into myself, trying to conserve body heat in the freezing cell I was locked up in. My breath came out in misty puffs, and even the natural fire burning within me wasn't enough to fight against the icy grasp of hypothermia. The door to my cell slammed against the wall.
"Look at the pathetic runt of a prince," the guard sneered, roughly grabbing my shoulders. I stared up at the familiar face of my former lover in a blank daze, mind dull, muscles limp.
"Liam…" I whispered lowly. The draconic soldier flinched at his name in anger, and blood dripped to the ground as his claws dug into my shoulders.
"The king would like to see you now," Liam growled. Like usual, I was roughly dragged by chains attached to the heavy metal bands around my neck and wrists. My body warmed up almost immediately as we stepped out of the frozen dungeons, although the warmth didn't seep all the way to my soul.
All it took was one failure, and I went from being the beloved prince to a filthy prisoner on trial for treason. I grimaced at the thought and reminder as people stared at me, whispering about the "Frozen Prince." They used to hang on to my every word. How did this happen?
You let one person go. One prisoner of war, an innocent person who harmed us not, and some bastard nails you with treason. I glared harshly at Liam.
"It's your fault," I growled under my breath. He chuckled and pulled me into a side area, one of many in my former kingdom.
"My dear Elizek, you are precisely right. I know that dear man was innocent. Well, he was, until I sunk my claws into his brain. You know I've always been partial to persuasion," Liam grinned at me, the sadistic gleam in his eyes reappearing. My stomach turned as everything began to slowly crush me. My breathing faded, a weight on my chest making air movement impossible. Black slowly encased my vision, all other senses following soon after.
When my eyes slowly opened, I was met with an odd sight. Instead of my usual icy cell, I was chained to a pole and curled up on a… dog bed? I frowned as I confirmed the fact that yes, I was indeed laying on a dog bed. Well then… I shook my head and focused on examining my environment, only to see that there really wasn't much to examine. Aside from this small raised platform, the rest of the area was covered in a thin layer of water, and there wasn't a visible end in sight. I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes.
Curious, I leaned over and looked at my reflection in the clear water. The same old sight as always looked back at me. Vibrant, although drastically duller since the last time I saw them, ice blue eyes stared back at me, surrounded by a ring of bright purple scales. My skin had paled, and any of the healthy coloration I had in my cheeks and lips were gone. I frowned, pushing my white hair out of my face, and sat back against the pole. The sound of water splashing alerted me to the arrival of another being, but I didn't look.
"Little Eli, why won't you look at me when I approach?" a familiar voice, one I've heard every day of my life, questioned me. My head snapped up to look at the being, and I gasped as I saw… me. Only a darker version, one with dark blue eyes and dark purple scales and black hair and dark everything.
"W-who are you? Where am I?" I asked the darker version of me, shifting forwards slightly.
"I, little one, am the darker version of you. Call me… Kezile," he smiled at me and crouched down, delicately cradling my jaw in rough hands. I whimpered and edged backwards, remembering the last time someone touched me so intimately.
"Where are we?" I asked again, since that question seemed to be overlooked last time.
"Oh. That's a tad bit harder to explain. Every draconic soldier has a darker side, it comes with being so in tune with the universe and magic. Every soldier also has their own personal… dimension, I suppose we could call it, that is supported by the magic every soldier contains. It's rare a soldier ever sees his dark side, even rarer that he visits his dimension, but you, little one, you have broken the barrier. With help from me. Now that I have you, I'm never letting you go," Kezile explained, his already dark eyes darkening further at the thought of my escape. I whined low in the back of my throat, squirming uncomfortably as his grip on my face and shoulder tightened almost to the point of pain. A look of shock and regret passed over my darker side's face, and he quickly withdrew his hands.
"I-I want to go home," I whispered. Something inside me broke as last word left my mouth, a word that I'd never feel the joy of again. My home was a cell made of ice, a bed of snow, and chains of boiling hatred. Every single tear I held back came rushing out in a stinging blaze of glory, and my throat ached with sobs that have been held back far too long. Still, I tried to retain a bit of princely pride and lowered my head, desperately trying to quell the trembling of my body. When a hand laid upon my shoulder, though, reality faded into nothing as I was tossed into my own nightmares once again.
"You're not some high and mighty prince anymore, are you?" that cruel voice echoed in my mind, driving me wild, and all I could do was scream and scream and scream until I was out of air, until my throat was raw and bleeding. I laid limply against the bed, panting wildly for air that just wouldn't come. The world seemed to turn upside down and continue turning, spinning but all the while remaining sickeningly still. My stomach turned, and the last thing I remember before passing out was the burning of stomach acid as the minuscule breakfast I had came rushing back up coated with bile.
When I awoke, feeling oddly rested, the chill was the first thing I noticed. My ears rung with the memories of my screams, although I couldn't tell if I was currently doing so or not. I huddled in the corner of my new kingdom, restlessly scanning the surface of the ice as though it would reveal to me some important fact. Something that would get me out of this hell. Alas, no answer was to be found in the icy undergrounds of my former home, nor would there be one in the years to come.
The silence, at times, was louder than I ever thought it could be. This was one of those times, when the silence screamed so loudly I couldn't think. All I could do was stare hopelessly at my distorted reflection in the shining ice and imagine the darker version of me sitting right there, a companion previously unwelcome but now begged for. With a quiet, hollow laugh, I closed my eyes and rested my head on my knees.
"Hey, Eli, did you miss me?" Kezile questioned. My head snapped up, and I looked at my dark twin in shock, noticing that the eternal chill was gone. I was back in the other dimension, or whatever he had called it earlier, chained to the same pole and sitting on the same dog bed.
"K-Kezile?" I quietly questioned, wincing at the pain the action caused. The screaming had definitely been real, I decided. Kezile smiled widely and went to hug me, but at my tense reaction he sat back down in front of me.
"It's me. I… I really don't like when you leave me, Eli. Could you maybe stay this time around?" the darker version of me asked innocently, his snowy skin reddening just slightly. I nodded hesitantly as I came to the conclusion that while odd and somewhat creepy, Kezile was the best (and only) company in this current time.
"What's your favorite color?" I asked, softly, after a period of awkward silence. As a prince, my strong points lay in the delicacy of public speaking, of connection making, of putting on a mask so real that even you were fooled. Somewhere along the way, my skill in informal, one-on-one talking with no ulterior motive hidden in the conversation had faded into a painful, awkward state of nothing, and as such I had no real friends. Except Liam, but… my heart clenched, very really and very painfully, at the memory, but I pushed it away.
"Ah, well," Kezile scratched the back of his neck, and I was drawn back into the reality of the situation. It occurred to me that perhaps this darker version of myself was even more socially inept, seeing as how he'd never been around another person, and I wondered just how one could have a favorite color when such thing is a rarity in the world one lives in.
"That was a rather stupid question, wasn't it? I suppose you haven't had much in the way of anything, have you? Being trapped here…" I trailed off as I looked around at the endless expanse of water and sky, closing my eyes to better listen to the faint song of magic that echoed throughout the infinite expanse.
"It's not that bad. I watched you, most of the time. I know everything about you. Your favorite color is orange, because you were always drawn to fire and the contradiction of life and death that it is. You love little kids but hate having to watch over them because you always feel like you did something wrong, even though they love you. While you put on a brave, strong, fierce front, you're really just a little kid that's afraid of the world around him and still sleeps with his toys. You're still afraid of the dark, even though you know exactly the type of monsters that thrive in its depths," Kezile revealed, and I couldn't stop the trembling that overtook my body at the thought of another being knowing everything about me. A hot feeling of exposure ran over me, and I whimpered as I curled up tighter to protect myself from the demons that plagued me. Kezile smiled apologetically and carefully pushed my white hair out of my face.
"Just… how could you still want to be around me after everything you know?" I shakily asked, peering up at my dark twin. He frowned thoughtfully, stroking my head in a way that reminded of my mother, and I found myself melting into his embrace and sobbing my eyes out in a desperate, messy cry. I choked several times on my own sobs, tears, and snot, but Kezile's arms never loosened their hold.
"Because I know that your strengths are far greater than your weaknesses. I know that the good you've done outweighs the bad. I know that despite your brokenness, you're still a beautiful person that I've loved for so long," Kezile murmured softly, an admittance of love that passed by almost casually. I sobbed louder.
In a way, I was disturbed that this being, one I'd never met and surely didn't know actually could ever exist, had feelings for me. In another, there was a certain feeling of safety with him, with a being that knew every one of my secrets but still could love me. Before I was exactly aware of my actions, our lips met in a wet flurry of passion that wasn't hot but warm, the type of warmth that seeped through every pore in your body and reached your soul. We separated after a few seconds, and the kiss, while short, was the best moment in my life.
"Kez… I don't want to leave," I admitted, willing to give my life to the person I trusted the most, even though I didn't know him. He was me, darker but me. Anyone would be better than the cold, brightly lit, horribly empty cell that I had to look forward to.
"Then don't. Just stay with me forever, promise your soul to me, Eli, and we'll live in paradise," Kezile whispered. Instead of answering him, I kissed him with a feverish passion. My hands tugged gently at his wild black locks, a complete opposite to my tame snow-white hair, and Kez slowly started to push me into a laying position. Once my back hit the soft dog bed, his chest pressed against mine, I freaked out as memories rushed towards me and wildly pushed my dark version away, the reality of the situation crashing down. My entire world turned black worryingly quickly.
"Fuck," I gasped as I woke up to the bitter cold of my cell once again. Liam stood in front of me, an odd look in his eyes as he stared at my haggard form, and I shrunk back as he began to menacingly walk forward.
"Little Eli, oh, how I've missed your soft touch," he murmured in my ear as he climbed on top of me. I yelped and tried to push against him, but his hands captured my wrist with ease. He held them above my head and forced his mouth down on mine; I screamed and kicked. No matter what I did, though, I couldn't escape the feeling of violation, and I just closed my eyes and mentally begged for it to be over as soon as possible.
"You don't care about me," I whispered as Liam pulled away. "You don't care about me now," I repeated, adding, "and you'll never care about me. You're just a selfish, sadistic bastard manipulating me for your own rights." His eyes hardened at the information, and he gripped my throat tightly. Liam leaned down dangerously close.
"You're right," he hissed in my ear. I whimpered and squirmed in his grasp, and as I found myself unable to take in enough breath to scream, I felt the sharp claws of panic sink their way into my brain. My body thrashed around in a desperate attempt to get this monster off of me, and before I realized it, a heavy hand slammed against my head and knocked me out. Once again, I sunk into the blackness of unconsciousness, and I welcomed the embrace of nothingness for the first time.
Maybe it would be better to feel nothing after all. I nodded and opened my eyes, expecting to see the same expense of nothing, but only black met my vision.
"Choose," a voice boomed. I hesitated for only a few seconds before I requested to join him. Blinding white light flashed, and as it faded, I found myself staring into familiar eyes.
"Welcome home," he whispered. Home… forever.
"Look at the pathetic runt of a prince," the guard sneered, roughly grabbing my shoulders. I stared up at the familiar face of my former lover in a blank daze, mind dull, muscles limp.
"Liam…" I whispered lowly. The draconic soldier flinched at his name in anger, and blood dripped to the ground as his claws dug into my shoulders.
"The king would like to see you now," Liam growled. Like usual, I was roughly dragged by chains attached to the heavy metal bands around my neck and wrists. My body warmed up almost immediately as we stepped out of the frozen dungeons, although the warmth didn't seep all the way to my soul.
All it took was one failure, and I went from being the beloved prince to a filthy prisoner on trial for treason. I grimaced at the thought and reminder as people stared at me, whispering about the "Frozen Prince." They used to hang on to my every word. How did this happen?
You let one person go. One prisoner of war, an innocent person who harmed us not, and some bastard nails you with treason. I glared harshly at Liam.
"It's your fault," I growled under my breath. He chuckled and pulled me into a side area, one of many in my former kingdom.
"My dear Elizek, you are precisely right. I know that dear man was innocent. Well, he was, until I sunk my claws into his brain. You know I've always been partial to persuasion," Liam grinned at me, the sadistic gleam in his eyes reappearing. My stomach turned as everything began to slowly crush me. My breathing faded, a weight on my chest making air movement impossible. Black slowly encased my vision, all other senses following soon after.
When my eyes slowly opened, I was met with an odd sight. Instead of my usual icy cell, I was chained to a pole and curled up on a… dog bed? I frowned as I confirmed the fact that yes, I was indeed laying on a dog bed. Well then… I shook my head and focused on examining my environment, only to see that there really wasn't much to examine. Aside from this small raised platform, the rest of the area was covered in a thin layer of water, and there wasn't a visible end in sight. I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes.
Curious, I leaned over and looked at my reflection in the clear water. The same old sight as always looked back at me. Vibrant, although drastically duller since the last time I saw them, ice blue eyes stared back at me, surrounded by a ring of bright purple scales. My skin had paled, and any of the healthy coloration I had in my cheeks and lips were gone. I frowned, pushing my white hair out of my face, and sat back against the pole. The sound of water splashing alerted me to the arrival of another being, but I didn't look.
"Little Eli, why won't you look at me when I approach?" a familiar voice, one I've heard every day of my life, questioned me. My head snapped up to look at the being, and I gasped as I saw… me. Only a darker version, one with dark blue eyes and dark purple scales and black hair and dark everything.
"W-who are you? Where am I?" I asked the darker version of me, shifting forwards slightly.
"I, little one, am the darker version of you. Call me… Kezile," he smiled at me and crouched down, delicately cradling my jaw in rough hands. I whimpered and edged backwards, remembering the last time someone touched me so intimately.
"Where are we?" I asked again, since that question seemed to be overlooked last time.
"Oh. That's a tad bit harder to explain. Every draconic soldier has a darker side, it comes with being so in tune with the universe and magic. Every soldier also has their own personal… dimension, I suppose we could call it, that is supported by the magic every soldier contains. It's rare a soldier ever sees his dark side, even rarer that he visits his dimension, but you, little one, you have broken the barrier. With help from me. Now that I have you, I'm never letting you go," Kezile explained, his already dark eyes darkening further at the thought of my escape. I whined low in the back of my throat, squirming uncomfortably as his grip on my face and shoulder tightened almost to the point of pain. A look of shock and regret passed over my darker side's face, and he quickly withdrew his hands.
"I-I want to go home," I whispered. Something inside me broke as last word left my mouth, a word that I'd never feel the joy of again. My home was a cell made of ice, a bed of snow, and chains of boiling hatred. Every single tear I held back came rushing out in a stinging blaze of glory, and my throat ached with sobs that have been held back far too long. Still, I tried to retain a bit of princely pride and lowered my head, desperately trying to quell the trembling of my body. When a hand laid upon my shoulder, though, reality faded into nothing as I was tossed into my own nightmares once again.
"You're not some high and mighty prince anymore, are you?" that cruel voice echoed in my mind, driving me wild, and all I could do was scream and scream and scream until I was out of air, until my throat was raw and bleeding. I laid limply against the bed, panting wildly for air that just wouldn't come. The world seemed to turn upside down and continue turning, spinning but all the while remaining sickeningly still. My stomach turned, and the last thing I remember before passing out was the burning of stomach acid as the minuscule breakfast I had came rushing back up coated with bile.
When I awoke, feeling oddly rested, the chill was the first thing I noticed. My ears rung with the memories of my screams, although I couldn't tell if I was currently doing so or not. I huddled in the corner of my new kingdom, restlessly scanning the surface of the ice as though it would reveal to me some important fact. Something that would get me out of this hell. Alas, no answer was to be found in the icy undergrounds of my former home, nor would there be one in the years to come.
The silence, at times, was louder than I ever thought it could be. This was one of those times, when the silence screamed so loudly I couldn't think. All I could do was stare hopelessly at my distorted reflection in the shining ice and imagine the darker version of me sitting right there, a companion previously unwelcome but now begged for. With a quiet, hollow laugh, I closed my eyes and rested my head on my knees.
"Hey, Eli, did you miss me?" Kezile questioned. My head snapped up, and I looked at my dark twin in shock, noticing that the eternal chill was gone. I was back in the other dimension, or whatever he had called it earlier, chained to the same pole and sitting on the same dog bed.
"K-Kezile?" I quietly questioned, wincing at the pain the action caused. The screaming had definitely been real, I decided. Kezile smiled widely and went to hug me, but at my tense reaction he sat back down in front of me.
"It's me. I… I really don't like when you leave me, Eli. Could you maybe stay this time around?" the darker version of me asked innocently, his snowy skin reddening just slightly. I nodded hesitantly as I came to the conclusion that while odd and somewhat creepy, Kezile was the best (and only) company in this current time.
"What's your favorite color?" I asked, softly, after a period of awkward silence. As a prince, my strong points lay in the delicacy of public speaking, of connection making, of putting on a mask so real that even you were fooled. Somewhere along the way, my skill in informal, one-on-one talking with no ulterior motive hidden in the conversation had faded into a painful, awkward state of nothing, and as such I had no real friends. Except Liam, but… my heart clenched, very really and very painfully, at the memory, but I pushed it away.
"Ah, well," Kezile scratched the back of his neck, and I was drawn back into the reality of the situation. It occurred to me that perhaps this darker version of myself was even more socially inept, seeing as how he'd never been around another person, and I wondered just how one could have a favorite color when such thing is a rarity in the world one lives in.
"That was a rather stupid question, wasn't it? I suppose you haven't had much in the way of anything, have you? Being trapped here…" I trailed off as I looked around at the endless expanse of water and sky, closing my eyes to better listen to the faint song of magic that echoed throughout the infinite expanse.
"It's not that bad. I watched you, most of the time. I know everything about you. Your favorite color is orange, because you were always drawn to fire and the contradiction of life and death that it is. You love little kids but hate having to watch over them because you always feel like you did something wrong, even though they love you. While you put on a brave, strong, fierce front, you're really just a little kid that's afraid of the world around him and still sleeps with his toys. You're still afraid of the dark, even though you know exactly the type of monsters that thrive in its depths," Kezile revealed, and I couldn't stop the trembling that overtook my body at the thought of another being knowing everything about me. A hot feeling of exposure ran over me, and I whimpered as I curled up tighter to protect myself from the demons that plagued me. Kezile smiled apologetically and carefully pushed my white hair out of my face.
"Just… how could you still want to be around me after everything you know?" I shakily asked, peering up at my dark twin. He frowned thoughtfully, stroking my head in a way that reminded of my mother, and I found myself melting into his embrace and sobbing my eyes out in a desperate, messy cry. I choked several times on my own sobs, tears, and snot, but Kezile's arms never loosened their hold.
"Because I know that your strengths are far greater than your weaknesses. I know that the good you've done outweighs the bad. I know that despite your brokenness, you're still a beautiful person that I've loved for so long," Kezile murmured softly, an admittance of love that passed by almost casually. I sobbed louder.
In a way, I was disturbed that this being, one I'd never met and surely didn't know actually could ever exist, had feelings for me. In another, there was a certain feeling of safety with him, with a being that knew every one of my secrets but still could love me. Before I was exactly aware of my actions, our lips met in a wet flurry of passion that wasn't hot but warm, the type of warmth that seeped through every pore in your body and reached your soul. We separated after a few seconds, and the kiss, while short, was the best moment in my life.
"Kez… I don't want to leave," I admitted, willing to give my life to the person I trusted the most, even though I didn't know him. He was me, darker but me. Anyone would be better than the cold, brightly lit, horribly empty cell that I had to look forward to.
"Then don't. Just stay with me forever, promise your soul to me, Eli, and we'll live in paradise," Kezile whispered. Instead of answering him, I kissed him with a feverish passion. My hands tugged gently at his wild black locks, a complete opposite to my tame snow-white hair, and Kez slowly started to push me into a laying position. Once my back hit the soft dog bed, his chest pressed against mine, I freaked out as memories rushed towards me and wildly pushed my dark version away, the reality of the situation crashing down. My entire world turned black worryingly quickly.
"Fuck," I gasped as I woke up to the bitter cold of my cell once again. Liam stood in front of me, an odd look in his eyes as he stared at my haggard form, and I shrunk back as he began to menacingly walk forward.
"Little Eli, oh, how I've missed your soft touch," he murmured in my ear as he climbed on top of me. I yelped and tried to push against him, but his hands captured my wrist with ease. He held them above my head and forced his mouth down on mine; I screamed and kicked. No matter what I did, though, I couldn't escape the feeling of violation, and I just closed my eyes and mentally begged for it to be over as soon as possible.
"You don't care about me," I whispered as Liam pulled away. "You don't care about me now," I repeated, adding, "and you'll never care about me. You're just a selfish, sadistic bastard manipulating me for your own rights." His eyes hardened at the information, and he gripped my throat tightly. Liam leaned down dangerously close.
"You're right," he hissed in my ear. I whimpered and squirmed in his grasp, and as I found myself unable to take in enough breath to scream, I felt the sharp claws of panic sink their way into my brain. My body thrashed around in a desperate attempt to get this monster off of me, and before I realized it, a heavy hand slammed against my head and knocked me out. Once again, I sunk into the blackness of unconsciousness, and I welcomed the embrace of nothingness for the first time.
Maybe it would be better to feel nothing after all. I nodded and opened my eyes, expecting to see the same expense of nothing, but only black met my vision.
"Choose," a voice boomed. I hesitated for only a few seconds before I requested to join him. Blinding white light flashed, and as it faded, I found myself staring into familiar eyes.
"Welcome home," he whispered. Home… forever.