Evey was defiant.

She longed for sleep. Her eye's stung. Her body was now completely immobile- the thing as weak and thin as straw.

Evey did not sleep.

It gave her a sort of pride: to hear V pacing out side her door. (Perhaps prowling was more apt a word though.) He was irritated. He could see that her light was still on from the crack under her door. He knew that she needed to sleep to heal the broken body that now seemed to not be part of her at all. It merely tied her down: a cocoon for a butterfly that had already spread its wings. He knew what she looked like in all her newly born splendor. He had witnessed it himself, a glimmer of fluttering was clear that day she had stood in the rain, arms raised to the sky. She had fallen to the floor soon after, exhausted. Too many emotions in one time. V knew she had felt it: the change. So why didn't she let herself heal?

Evey did know, she had felt it. She knew what would happen if she let herself sleep. She would heal. She would conform to him. That's why she clung to this stubbornness. In all actuality, she had no interest if he shaped her or not. (It was so obvious that it had already been done.) But Old Evey would have been rebellious. She would have been indignant. New Evey didn't have the energy to do either, and so she let herself hang on to this tiny idea of what she should do and left it at that because she was afraid that she was losing herself.

V paced (prowled) on, not entering her room. It was not an act of regret, him lending this simple privacy, it was an act of courtesy. He had always been like this. Even back when Evey was Old Evey he had given her space if she so desired.

He did not regret what he did. Not at all. He was V. V planned. V knew what he was doing. It was not that he did not feel remorse that he had to cause bodily harm to Evey, because he did. ("Please Evey, let me treat your wounds." "That's alright, I can take care of them myself.") It was all for the greater good though.

No. No, V did definitely did not regret this action at least.

Evey couldn't move. Scabs on her back had hardened and set. They made mobility a thing of the past. Even if they hadn't been there, she was too exhausted to do anything but twitch her fingertips to turn the pages of her book. She was barely reading it anyway. Her eyes moved across the page but her mind didn't comprehend it. David Copperfield was too complicated for her at the moment. Instead, she watched V's shadow move across her door way and listened to his lilting footsteps.

V had a strange way of moving when in the Gallery. He stood poised, shoulders spread in a manner that invited conversation; his hands were always gently placed before him. However, when out in the open, he moved like a lynx. (Or maybe, considering his attire, a jaguar.) His boots tapped along the coble stones and he leaned forward in anticipation of his next deed; a cat stalking it's prey.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. Evey looked up from her book.

There was a small rap at her door. It was 3:00 am.

"Evey?"
… "Yes?"

"May I enquire if something is wrong?"

"No, nothing, V."

"…I see. Pardon the interruption."

Old Evey smirked. New Evey snuggled into her blankets (V would have seen it as another cocoon). She didn't have enough fat on her to keep her warm anymore. Her body lay useless around her, a puppet with its strings cut. She felt caked in herself; she wanted to be free from this troublesome body. She wanted to feel like a real person, the way she had in the rain.

Old Evey was starting to seem more and more stupid.

Old Evey was a damsel, New Evey was tired of being in distress.

She laid David Copperfield across her chest.

She could hear V on the piano. It sounded like a lullaby. ("Sleep Evey. Heal.")

She unwittingly closed her eyes. Everything ached. Her body. Her soul. Her heart.

"Please," She thought. "I don't want to be Old Evey anymore."

That night she dreamt of shedding layers of her skin (Like a snake. Like an onion.) while standing under a blinding white sun. They fell off her and crumbled into dust and sludge. When there was nothing of left her, her soul lifted from the ground and floated toward open, open, sky. Her arms and fingers spread to their full extent. She laughed.

V stood before her.

("Be free, Evey. Be free.")

Oh geez. So many V for Vendetta stories are depressing. Oh well, just adding to the masses. (I was sort of uplifted! Laugh.)

This story started out completely different and then I used the butterfly analogy and it just flew out the window. laugh. The first part was written at 3 in the morning and then re-written today on a different computer. I sure am organized. Not.

I'm really just doing this while waiting for amazon to deliver the novelization of V for Vendetta to me. GOD DAMN IT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE BY TODAY! Sigh. I want to read it... Do they deliver mail Thursdays?

I'm not sure if I can continue this or not, I wouldn't know what to say. Haha.

Reviews are appreciated if not worshiped.

-Sasha

Ps. This was written while I was listening to the A Very Potter Musical soundtrack. I don't know how these two go together but they do.