Maxwell's Demon
by Eternally 1x2
and
Mystical1x2
Chapter One
Disclaimer: We don't own GW. The title, if you do not already know, comes from a line at the end of Episode Zero issue #1.
Authors' Notes: The two of us are trying something
new. What strange and depraved ideas
will we conjure up in the upcoming chapters? ::giggles wickedly::
Warnings: Yaoi, angst, AU.
***
It's dark. Darker than usual. I don't like it when it gets this dark…bad things happen when nothing can be seen. This blackness caused my troubles. It took away from me the one important person in my life. But that was so long ago. The island hadn't darkened like this since then. It can only mean one thing: death is near. Black is an archetype of evil, of death, is it not? Here, on this unhallowed ground, everything is black. But not this black…not always.
I find myself sinking to the sand. I can still hear the waves of the black waters; I can feel the coldness of the sand. I can even smell the evil in the air…true evil has a scent, you know – a strong scent. It's rancid and bitter – smells of brimstone.
I'm not afraid, though the darkness is strong. No one can be harmed but I. I'm the only living thing on this forsaken hellhole. I seem to be a refuge for the evil – demons, if you will – where they can do whatever they please.
The harm now will come only to me.
It's my time to die anyway. I can't say how old I am, nor can I say how long I've been here. I've lost all concept of time. Something, presumably time, has taken a toll on my body. I feel old and frail…I know whatever's coming won't do anything but worsen my condition. I don't care…it's time I should be released from this hell. But after the atrocity I committed so long ago, I feel like I will leave this hell for another. My soul is black, and my hands are red. Red from the blood that stained them so long ago…the blood is really there. I wasn't able to wash it away. I'm not speaking symbolically, either. My hands are truly and tangibly blood-stained. A sick reminder of the unspeakable horror that occurred…I only pray I am forgiven…it wasn't I that tore him apart. I was merely a harbor for a demon. I didn't realize what I had done until I awoke next to a bloody corpse – my own body splattered from head to toe with red liquid. Panicking, I ran to the closest spring and tried to wash the blood from my skin – the water became crimson as the red dripped from my body. My hands, however, would not come clean. I sat in that spring for hours crying, not believing what I had done. I wouldn't go back to where my mutilated lover lay until several days later. Though dazed, I found the spot where he lay rotting. Not only because of the bloody footprints I had trailed days earlier, but also because of the stench – god, the stench covered the entire island for weeks after I disposed of the rotting, fly infested body. Sometimes I think I can still smell it, especially when I near the site of Heero's burial.
Heero, the only person I had ever loved, died so long ago it seems, but as I sit here the memories flood back. The darkness is oppressing…I have to remember. I have to remember one last time. Lately, I've been plagued with nightmares; terrible nightmares so horrifying, I can't help but wonder if they represent what actually happened that horrible night so long ago. I never consciously remembered what happened to Heero. However, these vivid and gory images have appeared in my subconscious. And now I sit on this cold sand in total blackness seeing only these bloody pictures. God, these cursed memories…they're tattooed in my brain. I can see everything…I can hear everything…Heero's dying screams…
They're so loud…I don't think they're in my mind.
I find myself sinking face first to the sand. Tears running down my face…those are real screams. I can't see anything but the blood in my mind, and I can hear these god-awful screams. Were these the last sounds Heero made before he died? Did he see this iniquitous crimson?
The sounds of the waves are no more. An earsplitting, bloodcurdling scream is all that can be heard. I'm lying on the sand now sobbing as much as I had the day after Heero's death. I can see him die now…I can hear him die. I can see what I'm doing to him…
Why did he have to suffer so?
Demented…insane…only words that can describe what I am now. Face to the sand, while my knees touch my chest…my hands are ripping at my hair as I sob. I'm trembling – I'm so cold. My tattered clothes do nothing to retain heat. The screams are still echoing in the air. I can't take it…
It's too strong. I'm not going to make it. I want to die…I want mercy. Death would be too sweet now…
I don't deserve such an absolution. I deserve to be condemned to this hell for all eternity. I caused Heero's suffering. I committed such depraved and wicked acts…
The sound of screams mixed with flesh ripping…it's too much. I turn over on my back and scream also. The blackness is still tormenting me, but above my body is a red cloud. I can see it…I can feel it. It's blood red. Droplets of red liquid seem to be dripping from it. It's like rain. The cloud swirls, squeezing the drops of red from its grasp. I can actually feel the wetness. It burns, oh god, how it burns. I scream again…a scream much like the one already sounding through the tropical trees. The burning hurts, the smell of brimstone is more evident. The drops are burning through my skin. My body arches from the ground – I want to get up…I want to run, but something won't allow me. I'm stuck.
I scream for death. God, how I want to die. It feels as if the skin is melting from my bones…it's like acid. Did Heero feel this agony?
I scream his name in hopes that I'll see him. It's hopeless, I know. I want him, though. I want his forgiveness. I don't want to suffer like this. Make the pain stop.
What a miserable plea. I'm going to die, but first, I need to feel the pain. I need to feel what Heero felt. I deserve this for what I did to him. I tortured him. What's happening to me isn't nearly as terrible as what I did to him. I squeeze my eyes shut. The crimson cloud is too unbearable to look at it…it's pure evil. These blood-like droplets are demons' fingertips. It's happening again…
The images play like a filmstrip in my mind. Heero, the day we arrived, the last time he held me – the moment he took his last breath and merciful death carried him away from that ravaged body. Every image is dark; every image is stained with blood. My hands come in to the picture…my blood-red hands…
The wretched pictures still playing in my mind, blackness begins to consume me. The pain is just as agonizing, but everything inside my mind dulls into a faint glint. It's near, so near.
Oh, god, please take me…
***
Comments? Criticism? We want to know what you think! ~Eternally 1x2 and Mystical1x2