Thanks for coming and checking out this fic.
YOU SHOULD PROBABLY READTHIS PART IF YIOU WANT THIS FIC TO MAKE SENSE. Who knows, you may be really smart and unlike me, be very good at figuring out these types of things. But basically this is a fic about how, after the war with Aizen, somehow they lost and Ishida was taken captive. Aizen uses his bankai to torture Ishida while looking like Ichigo. At first Aizen uses guilt to make Ishida easer to torture, but over time the idea of being inferior becomes ingrained into Ishida's very make up and Aizen stops using direct methods for causing guilt such as the earlier method of appearing to Ishida injured and blaming him. After the shinigami rescue Ishida they give him a room until they can figure out what they can do for his sanity, and hoping it will help him the shinigami let Ichigo go and try to talk to Ishida. That bit is in normal writing. Italics are memories.
I blinked my eyes slowly, trying to ignore the figure walking slowly towards me.
"Ishida…" He whispered painfully, blood pouring from empty eye sockets, his black sword held awkwardly in his limp arms. "Ishida why didn't you save me?!"
As he comes towards me I close my eyes against the pain. This wasn't real- he wasn't real.
Slowly I let my fingers brush across the wall, and the dark lines I trace begin to run down the wall slowly, before crusting a dark brown.
Brown for the color of his eyes.
As they brought the knife down for a sixth time I screamed, trying to avert my eyes from the bloody mess of my left hand.
My torturer walked around to my front and chuckled darkly, slowly picking out the biggest chunk of flesh still intact.
"Let's see what your little shinigami friends will do if I send them a present."
Once again scraping my finger against the rough wall I watch the blood flow with an uninterested gaze.
Slowly getting up from where I sit on my bed I take a step towards the opposite wall, and place my hand carefully among the hands already littering the wall. As I remove my hand I watch the red drip slowly down to the floor, pooling with the blood already dying the creamy carpet black.
It was the second time today he'd come to visit me.
"Ishida, how could you do this to me?"
I tried to ignore it, but as I looked up at his mauled appearance I began to feel guilty. He was in pain, and he thought it was all my fault.
As he suddenly walks forward and kicks me hard in the gut I splutter and cough, before falling to my hands and knees.
He was in pain, and it was all my fault.
There is a sudden knock on the door, but I don't turn around, I just continue to stare at the garden of handprints sprinkling my walls. I almost turn around, but I can't take my eyes away from the scene. The blood is entrancing me, pulling me closer and wrapping me in chains. Suddenly ignoring the fact that someone else was opening the door I once again scratch deep gashes in my palm, and begin to slide it across the wall.
"Ishida, what are you doing?!"
Someone grabs my shoulder, and as they pull me away from the wall to face them I don't protest.
I'm almost surprised to see him. He hasn't bothered to visit me since the black ones took me from the white, and never before had he visited me while looking so clean and untouched. But no, I can see bandages under his clothing. I don't even bother to brace myself or close my eyes. I just focus them on the wall behind his back, ready to let him do as he pleases; ready to take my punishment.
His fingers burn as they touch the open wounds stretching my back, but I don't cringe. He's gone through worse. He's seen worse. It's my fault.
"Did you like that Ishida?"
His voice is calm and quiet, caressing my very existence and drawing me in.
"Y- yes," I manage to stutter, arching my back as he trails his fingers up to and across my neck. "Yes master," Do whatever you please.
Its mere seconds before I hear another crack, and begin to feel more blood pool around my knees.
"I-Ishida." He states, giving me a strange and worried look. When I don't answer him he grabs my wrist, examining the gashes crossly. "Ishida, what were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry." I say, my voice void. I'd dissatisfied him. I'd done something wrong.
Looking around, bewildered, at the blood splattering my walls and pooling on the floor he looks cross and confused. "Ishida did- did you do all of this?"
"I'm sorry." I repeat, taking my wrist carefully from him before leaning closer, carefully removing the heavy ring from my finger and showing it to him. "I kept it."
As yet another blow lands, sending me choking and slamming into the hard wall I feel dull pain fill my chest.
"Do you know how much you did to me?"
His voice is cross, but loving. Leaning against me he bites my neck carefully, letting the sharp edged of his ring trace down and through the skin of my cheek.
"I want you," I manage to gasp selfishly, letting him bring the ring down to my already bloody chest. "I want you to hurt me."
"What the hell is this?"
His voice grows even angrier than before as he examines he small, blood stained blades set into the silver ring.
Slowly I slip the ring onto his finger, bringing to my clothed chest. "I need you," I say, using the selfish words I'd always used when he was angry. "Please…"
I slowly grasp his hand in mine, but as I dig the ring into my skin and wait for him to take the lead I feel hand jerk away from me, his other hand pulling off the ring before giving me a scared and bewildered look.
"I- Ishida, what are you doing?"
He was angry with me. I had been too selfish, I had wanted too much. It was my fault he was angry.
"Ishida what's wrong with you?!"
"You're horrible."
His voice is angry, but as he slowly brings he knife across my wrist I breathe raggedly, gasping as the pain hits. He is kind; so kind and forgiving. "I am."
"You're selfish."
I scream as he stabs my shoulder with the blade, pushing me against the wall. "I am!"
"You're so hideous."
My breath hitches as he lets the hand not gripping my shoulder fall to the small mound growing in my pants. His lips now pressing violently against mine I can't answer him, but still I cry out silently. I am!
I lean closer to him, gripping his shoulders desperately.
"I'm so selfish…" I say, leaning in and licking his neck in the way he'd always told me to. My breath became ragged but I keep him there, losing myself to my desires. "I'm so terrible."
Suddenly a set of rough hands push me away, sending me against the wall. I couldn't help but be glad. I closed my eyes in ecstasy and waited for the knife to land.
It never came.
Suddenly the door opens again and I open my eyes to see a tall man in a striped hat enter with a worried look on his face. I recognized him as one of the black ones who'd walked in on my selfishness.
"There was shouting- did anything…" His voice trails off as he sees the small amount of blood dripping down my front, the small bladed ring still held warily in his hands. Then, as he suddenly notices the blood covering the wall he gets a scared look on his face.
"Dammit! I knew we should have put him somewhere else. Ichigo, what-"
As he sees the confused and scared look on his face he scowls worriedly again.
"Shit, we should have known sending anyone to see him would be dangerous. Especially not someone as close to him as you- what were they thinking?"
Carefully he gives the ring to the black one before giving me a strange look.
"What happened to him? What could Aizen possibly have done to make him so-?"
"We're still not exactly sure, though it's obvious from just looking at him that it was some kind of torture. Though, as you seem to have found, it was some sort of willing torture- I really don't have any idea what he could have done to make him like this."
"What are we going to-?" They continue as if I'm not here, but it's okay. I'm selfish. It's my fault I'm not good enough.
"I'm not sure. First of all just grab his arm and help me get him somewhere safer- somewhere he can't hurt himself."
As they lead me warily out of the room that I'd come to refer to as mine I couldn't help but begin to miss the garden of handprints that had littered the walls. It had been our creation; it had been a symbol of my love for him.
As he brought his lips smashing down on mine I gasped for air, letting him draw on my chest with my blood.
"I hate you."
His voice is husk and controlling, and I let it flow through me like waves.
"I know."
I love you.
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