.
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Better/Quiet.
The children keep chattering. The spider's tumbles down and whispers in her ear.
Yes, yes, she whispers back, I wish they would be quiet too. They aren't even really children anymore. It's a wonder how they can all fit in this tiny white room with one room and the locked door.
She she tries to snuggle down further into too white sheet over her head. She really should ask the nurses to loosen her restrains, they are starting to bruise her. Or, at very least, pull the blanket around her more, the cold air is freezing her legs.
Xenmas and Marluxia and bicker, like children, they are. She should spin them away and punish them like Mother Dearest did to her.
Demyx asks for her blanket – poor, poor water boy, he never likes the cold nights here. She wishes they would shut up, nevertheless, they keep talking about nothing. The spider whispers for some peace, and she couldn't agree more. "Quiet! The spiders are sleeping! You wouldn't like them to wake you up, would you?"
The nurse walks by and shakes her head.
"Get well soon, Naminé."
Fat chance.
.
Wrong/Right/Blood.
"This is all wrong," she whispered with finger clutching the loose material across her heart which isn't there. It's just an empty space that the other's have filled it with blood, malice and hatred (except those two boys; one filled it with lies, the other with false hope. It's better than nothing, I guess). She's not speaking to anyone in particular, but she is because they're the only one's left that will listen. The others have all gone already. They're all gone to fill their empty spaces.
But they didn't even spare her a glance.
"This is all wrong," she whispered again, nail digging into skin. Blood escapes – little by little – but she doesn't feel. A million scars exactly the same mark where, every day, she tries to feel something. That one that treats people like animals tells her to stop – that she'll break herself. It doesn't matter. Everything is wrong.
"Do you think we were ever meant to be 'right'?"
Without even looking at them, she raises a blood soaked finger to her lips (wasn't it meant to hurt?) and tastes it. It tastes like nothing. The blood is like water, cold and runny on her fingertips, - blood alochol, 0.356 % – and it's all wrong (she's felt that boy's blood in hand's before and it was different, real). The blood isn't right. The blood is broken.
And she gets it.
.
I'm Sorry/Wind/Forgotten.
She's forgotten what it was she was meant to remember, and it hurts. She's forgotten and her heart is bleeding. She's forgotten and he's broken. 'I'm sorry'-s are whispered to non-willing ears and left to the wind as treats. She's left to repeat it – I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – until it's lost all meaning.
The wind's taken all her 'I'm sorry'. She probably didn't mean them anyway.
.
Ten/Map.
When she was ten, he gave her a map.
That map that had him, her, the castle, Death's Door.
He placed her in the highest tower in the tallest room
(In childish drawing that made her giggle,
He gave her Rapunzel hair and,
Snow White lips.)
He places himself by Death Door,
Swordkey in hand,
With a single note was scribbled in the corner;
"I will save you, Princess, even if it condemns me."
She kind of hopes that it doesn't come to that.
.
Lie to Me/Illusion.
She never believed they could ever feel. Demyx would come to her room and tell her, again and again, 'We can, we can, we can, I know we can,' because he live so feverishly in denial of his own heartlessness. He was truly a special nobody, more special then her. He had the ability, not to trick others, but trick himself. Zexion once said to her that the greatest gift was to lie to one's own self and believe it as though you didn't know better.
She was not like Demyx. She never tried to disillusion herself, convince herself they all lied, I do believe. He wishes that he could feel something (a beat, a meaning, something, something) when he pulls at the cords. In a way, he probably does feel something (desire, want, need). In that, Demyx is special. She's jealous. When she looks at that boy, her heart should bangbangbang but it's dead silent.
Because she doesn't feel, she doesn't want.
He could die for all she cared
(A part of her begs, but please don't, and there's her patter/patter/patter.)
.
Crazy/Smile.
Marluxia holds her by the waist.
Never follow the rabbit, he warns,
Never trust a thing that smiles bigger than it should.
She nods and gets lost in the forest,
And the flowers call her names
(Although she's heard worse).
He admires the red, red (fake red) roses,
And paints them white.
.
They both like Wonderland.
It's their kind of crazy.
.
.
.
NOTES:
1. 4/1/09: Fixing up all old fanfiction.
2. Obviously, I have a thing for Namine.