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Nov. 20th, 2011 09:57 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Challenge: 277- Revenge
Title: Bloody Insanity
Word Count: 600
Notes: What is this, I don't even... No, seriously, I have no idea why I wrote this. The narrator is Riku, by the way... sorry for any OOCness.
Why do we do this? Oh, Darkness, I can't breathe... still you keep going, laughing down at me whenever I so much as whimper. And it hurts, it hurts so badly but I want it, don’t I, and I let you again and again and again.
I feel like I'll explode if I don't scream right now, but I can't make a single sound. It's like I freeze the moment you slam me to the ground and from there on I can't do anything but go through everything you make me experience. But it hurts, your nails, your teeth. The knife. Especially the knife.
My blood drips slowly, and the cut isn't deep but it scares me to leave my life in your hands. It's not safe, and I'm not safe and you are dangerous. You love those scars on me, you say. Love to see tears well up in my eyes as you trace the knife over my ribs, my heart... and I know that somewhere you just want to plunge it down deep into my chest. Bathe yourself in my blood. Try to wash away all your sins in the blood of another, and sometimes I even think you think it might work.
Because you're insane.
I’ve always known there was something not right about you, ever since we returned and I saw you looking out through his eyes. Dark, demented… and yet, somehow, so utterly beautiful. When you came for me the first time, I couldn’t resist- I thought it was a dream, maybe, because I killed you. It’s too much to hope that my dead would stay dead, though, isn’t it?
I only ever know I’m not dreaming, that this really happens, because of the scars you leave. You slice my back open, delighting in the crimson fluid that drips down, tracing haphazard designs in my flesh. Your very own attempt at art, and it hurts, it hurts so badly, but I’m powerless to resist the lure of something like you. Something so deadly, so beautiful, so unexplainable…
Sometimes I try to figure out why I let you do this to me, when I know just how dangerous you are. I guess maybe it’s because I know I hurt you before, this is the only revenge you have left to you, but… I used to fight back, didn’t I? When did that all change?
You don't make a sound as you slash the knife into me, so hard I want to tell you to stop, but I can't. You never listen (and it always hurts worse when I disobey, a tiny voice, maybe common sense, whispers in my head). It's useless. And you're so strong, despite what your frame might suggest. I see every muscle in your pale arms tightening as you push my wrists above my head, pinning them there with one hand before your other finds the knife again, this time to trace it over my lower lip, as if daring me to make a sound so you can cut me. I believe that I'm scared but other than the rushing of blood through my head and the pounding of my heart in my throat I am numb. How long has it been, since you first came to my room in the middle of the night and sliced bloody pathways along my abdomen?
I ask you that, when I can finally breathe again. You say time doesn’t matter, all that matters is me shutting up like the bitch I am. You hold the knife as you say so, little pink tongue curling out to lap my blood from its tip.
I can’t blame you for any of this, Roxas.
Because you’re insane.
Title: Bloody Insanity
Word Count: 600
Notes: What is this, I don't even... No, seriously, I have no idea why I wrote this. The narrator is Riku, by the way... sorry for any OOCness.
Why do we do this? Oh, Darkness, I can't breathe... still you keep going, laughing down at me whenever I so much as whimper. And it hurts, it hurts so badly but I want it, don’t I, and I let you again and again and again.
I feel like I'll explode if I don't scream right now, but I can't make a single sound. It's like I freeze the moment you slam me to the ground and from there on I can't do anything but go through everything you make me experience. But it hurts, your nails, your teeth. The knife. Especially the knife.
My blood drips slowly, and the cut isn't deep but it scares me to leave my life in your hands. It's not safe, and I'm not safe and you are dangerous. You love those scars on me, you say. Love to see tears well up in my eyes as you trace the knife over my ribs, my heart... and I know that somewhere you just want to plunge it down deep into my chest. Bathe yourself in my blood. Try to wash away all your sins in the blood of another, and sometimes I even think you think it might work.
Because you're insane.
I’ve always known there was something not right about you, ever since we returned and I saw you looking out through his eyes. Dark, demented… and yet, somehow, so utterly beautiful. When you came for me the first time, I couldn’t resist- I thought it was a dream, maybe, because I killed you. It’s too much to hope that my dead would stay dead, though, isn’t it?
I only ever know I’m not dreaming, that this really happens, because of the scars you leave. You slice my back open, delighting in the crimson fluid that drips down, tracing haphazard designs in my flesh. Your very own attempt at art, and it hurts, it hurts so badly, but I’m powerless to resist the lure of something like you. Something so deadly, so beautiful, so unexplainable…
Sometimes I try to figure out why I let you do this to me, when I know just how dangerous you are. I guess maybe it’s because I know I hurt you before, this is the only revenge you have left to you, but… I used to fight back, didn’t I? When did that all change?
You don't make a sound as you slash the knife into me, so hard I want to tell you to stop, but I can't. You never listen (and it always hurts worse when I disobey, a tiny voice, maybe common sense, whispers in my head). It's useless. And you're so strong, despite what your frame might suggest. I see every muscle in your pale arms tightening as you push my wrists above my head, pinning them there with one hand before your other finds the knife again, this time to trace it over my lower lip, as if daring me to make a sound so you can cut me. I believe that I'm scared but other than the rushing of blood through my head and the pounding of my heart in my throat I am numb. How long has it been, since you first came to my room in the middle of the night and sliced bloody pathways along my abdomen?
I ask you that, when I can finally breathe again. You say time doesn’t matter, all that matters is me shutting up like the bitch I am. You hold the knife as you say so, little pink tongue curling out to lap my blood from its tip.
I can’t blame you for any of this, Roxas.
Because you’re insane.