The Sound of Screams
By Max-chan
Author's Notes: Dark, dark, dark. I mean it. Little droplet of heavy darkness. You really have to understand the Ranma storylines to get this. It's DARK! Okay, now that that's over, let's all sit down and eat cookies.
Disclaimers: We go through this every time. None of the characters belong to me, okay? Ranma 1/2 belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.
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"Who is Enaka, Ranma? Who is Enaka?"
They ask you that when your guard is down. When the sun is shining in the day room and everybody's smiling and you think maybe, just maybe, everybody forgot - they ask you. They are more hesitant now when they ask you that question (and by 'they' you mean the men with their clean coats and their patient, enduring smiles). You remember how you screamed the first time they asked you that, you screamed and you screamed and you couldn't stop and you didn't know why. It took them three months before they gathered up the courage to ask you again.
You don't scream now when they ask you that question. You just shake your head blankly so that your dark, dark hair covers your face, covers your soul. They push you for awhile before you start your screaming again. Then they stop because they know better. They know who Enaka is. They just want you to admit it so they could break you down and start their process of fixing you. You won't let them though. You won't let them because you don't want to think about Enaka.
The nurses where you live are nice. Especially the one who is a year younger than you with the cute, curly orange hair that reminds you of the outside. She comes into the room you sleep in every morning, wakes you up, and braids your hair for you. If your hair isn't braided into a pigtail, you refuse to get out of bed and you know that the nurses all know that no guards are strong enough to go against you. The nurses know that and so they let you get away with things most of the patients wouldn't have even thought about. There are rules around you and about you and you kind of like it that way.
It keeps the memories at bay.
The first rule is about the mirrors and that rule wasn't really one that you made up. All of the mirrors in the building was taken away after that first time. You remember that first time and you're not exactly proud of it, but what can you do? You remember waking up that first day and walking into the hallway outside the room you slept in. You remember seeing that other you and you remember the mirror. You remember something grating into your mind and then something going 'snap'. You remember a lot of noise after that and you remember that they realized they couldn't stop you, so they just took the mirror off the wall and waited for you to calm down. You did calm down eventually, but the other patients don't talk to you now because you hurt them too much that first time. You broke them and now they won't talk to you.
The other rule is that you get to see your visitors any time that you want. But that's because you only have one visitor and she only comes see you late at night when no one will know. The nurses wake you up in your bed and you don't mind because you know it's a visiting day. You enter the cold, metal room and there she is and you think about how she didn't always look this pale and her hair wasn't always this limp. And you know it's because of you, but what can you do?
There is always a basket with good things to eat on the table and sometimes she cries, but most times she doesn't. When she does cry, however, you know it's not for you but because of you. She's crying because of something you did and sometimes you feel sad, but most times you don't. Because, after all, what can you do?
You sit down and she tries to smile to make you feel better, but you know she doesn't really care how you feel. You know she's only here because her nature won't let her abandon the lost. You don't really care what her reasons are though because she's the only one who bothers to come see you. Even safe inside these walls, you know that the others hate you. They hate you so much that they pretend you never mattered to them before. They hate you because of what you did.
But hey, what can you do, right?
"Who is Enaka, Ranma?"
Sometimes you want to shout at them to shut up and stop asking you. You want them to ask you what you did instead, because you know the answer to that. You know what you did that made the others hate you. You know what you did that made them put you in this place. You had gone a little too far once. You had killed someone.
It wasn't your fault though.
You had to be the best. Pop taught you that. You had to be the best, no matter what. It wasn't your fault.
And it wasn't your fault she decided to wear that outfit and eat the soup at the same time. She should have known you better than that.
And in your dreams, you see this girl, with the blood crusting around her hair, stand up. You see her walk towards the mirror and write something on it with her finger. It's dark red and after she's finished, she looks at you with something akin to hatred. Something like love.
You stare at the word she wrote on the mirror.
enakA.
And something inside you sees and you understand and like that first time with the mirror, something snaps.
You scream and you scream and you think that this is endless and you will never stop because if you stop you'll have to face up to what you did. It explains why you were sent to the building with the nurses and not the one with the bars. It was because not only did you kill this person, you killed yourself in the process.
But then the nurse with the cute, curly, orange hair wakes you up with a smile. She's ready to braid your hair and in that one moment, everything is forgotten.
A long time ago, your father had given you a beautiful puppy. You played with the puppy and it was the first true friend you had.
Then the puppy became a dog and your father held it in front of you, asking, "Is this dog, better than you, Ranma?"
You don't remember where you buried it and you hope you never will.
"Who is Enaka, Ranma? Who is Enaka?"
You don't tell them that Enaka is Akane.
You don't tell them this because you refuse to face the truth yourself. You push this tiny nugget of truth far, far down your head so that it only emerges in your dreams.
So the others all hate you now.
So you live in a building with nurses and guards.
So you're the best there ever is or ever will be and you made sure of that.
But hey, what can you do, right?