Control
A/N: Yes, it's me, with my very first non-parody Narnia fic! Sorry, the fangirls are on hold for the moment, I'm having MAJOR writer's block. So, I came up with this. It may turn into a multi-chapter fic, depending on reviews, but I don't know. I wrote it while listening to 'No Good Deed' on the Wicked soundtrack, and I consider that a very angry song, so this will be very angry. All right, here we go.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Narnia characters. C.S. Lewis does, and I am not him. I am not making any money off this fic.
Control
Peter angrily sharpened his dagger, not really paying attention. They were all so stupid! Not just Edmund, but Susan and Lucy… God, Lucy. Peter now felt that they should have shipped her off to a mental home the second she opened her mouth.
In his anger, he couldn't even remember why they were stupid, just that they were. Something about Peter needing to come up with a plan to save the villagers under attack. God! Wasn't Narnia ever safe?
A sharp pain in his hand caught Peter's attention. He had cut his fingers, and they were bleeding profusely. It didn't really hurt; it was numbed by the rage.
He threw his dagger away, and ran off into the forest. He no longer was thinking in sentences, in words. All his thoughts were now in colors. Red. Lots and lots of it. He couldn't even see where he was going.
Anger welled up inside him. He felt the scream coming on, felt it rise up, and he didn't repress it. His vocal chords vibrated as the scream came out. He kept screaming, kept up as much noise as he could.
He fell to his knees and began to hit himself, clobbering his head. Then, he felt it.
A hand on his shoulder. He slapped it away, and turned his rage on the hand. Distantly he heard cries of pain, and it fueled him, kept him going. He followed the red, obeyed the anger, the pleasure he took in violence.
Small hands, weak arms tried to restrain him, but Peter was strong, very strong. He grabbed a hand, and threw whoever the hand belonged to aside, feeling stabs of pleasure when the heard the thud.
Stronger hands gripped his arm, but not strong enough. Peter just whirled on the person, violently swinging his arms, kicking, the scream never ending.
Red. All he knew. He needed to see again, but couldn't tear himself away from the pleasure of hearing the screams, the thud of his fists hitting flesh, the shooting pain, telling him nothing. It continued, kept going, the pain mixed with pleasure.
All of a sudden, he went flying. The scream turned into a roar. He didn't know who had done that, but he turned on them, arms swinging. They kept dodging his blows, and eventually, Peter couldn't stand it. He needed it. Need. His anger flared. He flew every which way, not coming in contact, until he felt it. The thud against something.
His mind went into overdrive. He kept it up. There was pain as something was thrown against his body, a feeble attempt to stop him.
Then, a desperate cry pierced his rage. A voice, his mother's. Telling him to stop.
He tried. He did. But he no longer had control. A new color filled his mind. Blue. Dark, dark blue. Fear. He felt more fear than ever before in his life as his uncontrollable body, finding no more victims, turned on itself.
The roars of anger turned into alternating cries of pain and screams, screams that Peter tried to turn into the word help, but he couldn't.
Then, like a beacon on a dark night, it came. The sudden pain, in his shoulder. He stopped hitting himself, swayed for a second, and then fell over in an unconscious heap.
A/N: Did you like it? Should I continue? Please review! I'm not sure if it's set in Narnia, or the real world, but please review, and tell me which one you'd like better!