((Based on Final Answer by The Calling))
The room was dark. That was about all he could tell from where he was kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind him. Turning his head too much to either side was impossible and he couldn't see too far ahead either, since they'd taken his glasses. Besides, even if he could see further ahead, there was nothing to see. It was all dark. Which brought him back to the beginning of this stupid train of thought. He'd been going in circles in his mind for what seemed like days, but he was pretty sure it was only hours. Time to move on.
He was still unclear on what had happened before he woke up in this same position. He could remember some things fuzzily. Like her. Just thinking of her made things better, the room seemed to get a little lighter. But there he went, fooling himself again. She was probably at fault for all of this, knowing her.
He remembered more now. How he'd come to her apartment around midnight and knocked on her door until she'd opened it to let him in, still sleepy and in her long white nightgown. She'd smiled at him, like she was expecting him, and they sat on the bed together. She'd brought out a bottle of vintage wine—he couldn't remember the name—and poured out two glasses. They had made toasts to each other. She made a toast to happiness. He had toasted love. She'd smiled at him then, secretly, and put her glass down. Crawling across the small space between them, she'd kissed him gently on the lips.
He remembered dropping the wine glass, but it had only bounced on the carpet instead of shattering like he'd expected it to. He'd wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her back almost desperately. She'd whispered little nothings in his ear as she pulled her nightgown off and he'd swallowed hard.
But there was something wrong. She kissed him again and things were a little fuzzy. He tried to tell her that there was something wrong, but she'd put a finger to his lips and whispered, "Shhh...don't worry baby. Everything's fine." He wasn't quite reassured, but he let her kiss him again. His vision was getting blurrier and he felt dizzy. Groping for something to hold on to, he'd grabbed a fistful of sheet and pulled himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. The light sheets had ripped, leaving him with a scrap of cloth in his hand as he fell to the floor. His head throbbed dully as he tried to talk again, but his tongue had turned to dust in his mouth and wouldn't move.
She'd stood over him and kissed his forehead, saying, "I'm sorry, baby." She straightened as the door opened again and two large men came in. They asked her something and she'd answered, but he couldn't remember what they'd said—by then, he could hardly see anything—and then he was being lifted off the ground. At that point, things went dark. He remembered his last thought: "I love you..." as he'd succumbed to the inviting darkness.
And now here he was. It was her fault after all. He growled in frustration and decided he hated her. But he didn't. He loved her. Could he do both? He wasn't sure.
And yet...maybe this was his fault as well. He had been the one to cast her out the first time, when he'd decided he needed a change. He'd hurt her. He knew it. But she'd gone. And with her leaving, he'd felt a relief like nothing else. But he missed her too, and that hadn't left. The relief had long since gone away, only to be replaced by the longing for her familiarity and her love.
After that, he'd realized he'd made a mistake and called her and apologized. Eventually she'd agreed to try again, and when she hugged him again for the first time since what felt like ages, he'd felt so much better. He realized how much he'd missed her, only after she'd left. And now she was back. And everything would be okay.
And yet, it seemed like maybe it wasn't okay. After all, she'd been the one to betray him and she'd been the one to send him here, to this cursed dark place. She'd been the one to leave him. So...did that make them even? Somehow, he didn't think so.
At the far end of the room, a door opened and a square of light appeared. He'd been in the dark so long it made him wince, and he almost cried out, but shut his mouth around the yelp, biting his lip so hard he could taste the blood seeping into his mouth. He was determined not to show weakness. Instead, he closed his eyes and bowed his head, waiting for the inevitable steps that grew closer by the second.
Someone grabbed a fistful of his thick black hair and yanked hard. His head came up uncomfortably and he stared into the eyes of the person in front of him. The room was too murky for him to be able to see the person's features and he gave up after a while.
"What do you want?" His voice sounded rough and rusty from disuse.
Something about the person's voice sounded like they were smiling, "I'm here to get you out."
"What??" Shock was obvious in his voice.
"You heard me. I'm supposed to get you out and let you go."
"You're kidding me. How is this possible? Where the bloody hell am I anyways?"
"Just come on." The person walked behind him and untied his wrists. He fell forward and landed on the floor hard as he tried to break his fall but his elbows buckled from neglect. He felt bruises starting to form already as he struggled to his feet unaided. The person who'd helped him brushed past him and walked out the door. Chafing his wrists to get the blood flowing to his hands, he followed outside.
Outside was a long white hallway with doors on each side. He put a hand to his eyes as the white brightness blinded him. His pseudo-rescuer walked down the hall in one direction and he followed, eyes still trying to adjust to the light.
They reached the end of the hallway. He was still blinking as the door in front of them opened and they stepped outside. A second later, he had to readjust his eyes again to the darkness outside. It was evening.
By the time his eyes adjusted for the second time, the person who'd gotten him out was gone and he was left alone. Again. He sighed and hurried away from the oddly shaped building he'd just exited.
He wondered where to turn. Where could he go? Honking behind him alerted him to the fact that while he'd been pondering these questions, he'd somehow ended up in the middle of a bridge. With a road on it.
With a yelp, he leapt out of the way and landed on the sidewalk in a heap as the cars whizzed past him. He felt wetness on his cheeks and put a hand up to brush one cheek. Is it raining? Odd...last I checked it's summer. He realized he was crying with a jolt.
And he also realized that it made sense. All of his life was a mess. He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to for help, the woman he loved had betrayed him and sent him to stay in that dark room...it was all so...fucked up. There. Perfect words.
He struggled to his feet and leaned over the edge of the bridge, resting his arms on the railing. The black water flowed swiftly below the metal bridge and made soothing sounds into his ears as he gazed down at them. The bridge vibrated under his feet as the cars and trucks flew past him and further into the night.
He looked up at the blazing lights that cast circles of illumination down onto the otherwise dark road. Then back down at the sinuously moving water. The murky darkness whispered his name in his ear as he leant closer to hear the secrets it held out for him. Closer...just a little closer...
He was falling...no, floating. The air whistled past him as he headed inexorably toward the water. But he wasn't frightened. It was calming. Maybe...maybe he would find the secrets in the calling water.
And then he was sinking. First his feet. Then his legs. Then his torso. And shoulders. Finally his neck, then his head.
"Love you, 'Mione."
The room was dark. That was about all he could tell from where he was kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind him. Turning his head too much to either side was impossible and he couldn't see too far ahead either, since they'd taken his glasses. Besides, even if he could see further ahead, there was nothing to see. It was all dark. Which brought him back to the beginning of this stupid train of thought. He'd been going in circles in his mind for what seemed like days, but he was pretty sure it was only hours. Time to move on.
He was still unclear on what had happened before he woke up in this same position. He could remember some things fuzzily. Like her. Just thinking of her made things better, the room seemed to get a little lighter. But there he went, fooling himself again. She was probably at fault for all of this, knowing her.
He remembered more now. How he'd come to her apartment around midnight and knocked on her door until she'd opened it to let him in, still sleepy and in her long white nightgown. She'd smiled at him, like she was expecting him, and they sat on the bed together. She'd brought out a bottle of vintage wine—he couldn't remember the name—and poured out two glasses. They had made toasts to each other. She made a toast to happiness. He had toasted love. She'd smiled at him then, secretly, and put her glass down. Crawling across the small space between them, she'd kissed him gently on the lips.
He remembered dropping the wine glass, but it had only bounced on the carpet instead of shattering like he'd expected it to. He'd wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her back almost desperately. She'd whispered little nothings in his ear as she pulled her nightgown off and he'd swallowed hard.
But there was something wrong. She kissed him again and things were a little fuzzy. He tried to tell her that there was something wrong, but she'd put a finger to his lips and whispered, "Shhh...don't worry baby. Everything's fine." He wasn't quite reassured, but he let her kiss him again. His vision was getting blurrier and he felt dizzy. Groping for something to hold on to, he'd grabbed a fistful of sheet and pulled himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. The light sheets had ripped, leaving him with a scrap of cloth in his hand as he fell to the floor. His head throbbed dully as he tried to talk again, but his tongue had turned to dust in his mouth and wouldn't move.
She'd stood over him and kissed his forehead, saying, "I'm sorry, baby." She straightened as the door opened again and two large men came in. They asked her something and she'd answered, but he couldn't remember what they'd said—by then, he could hardly see anything—and then he was being lifted off the ground. At that point, things went dark. He remembered his last thought: "I love you..." as he'd succumbed to the inviting darkness.
And now here he was. It was her fault after all. He growled in frustration and decided he hated her. But he didn't. He loved her. Could he do both? He wasn't sure.
And yet...maybe this was his fault as well. He had been the one to cast her out the first time, when he'd decided he needed a change. He'd hurt her. He knew it. But she'd gone. And with her leaving, he'd felt a relief like nothing else. But he missed her too, and that hadn't left. The relief had long since gone away, only to be replaced by the longing for her familiarity and her love.
After that, he'd realized he'd made a mistake and called her and apologized. Eventually she'd agreed to try again, and when she hugged him again for the first time since what felt like ages, he'd felt so much better. He realized how much he'd missed her, only after she'd left. And now she was back. And everything would be okay.
And yet, it seemed like maybe it wasn't okay. After all, she'd been the one to betray him and she'd been the one to send him here, to this cursed dark place. She'd been the one to leave him. So...did that make them even? Somehow, he didn't think so.
At the far end of the room, a door opened and a square of light appeared. He'd been in the dark so long it made him wince, and he almost cried out, but shut his mouth around the yelp, biting his lip so hard he could taste the blood seeping into his mouth. He was determined not to show weakness. Instead, he closed his eyes and bowed his head, waiting for the inevitable steps that grew closer by the second.
Someone grabbed a fistful of his thick black hair and yanked hard. His head came up uncomfortably and he stared into the eyes of the person in front of him. The room was too murky for him to be able to see the person's features and he gave up after a while.
"What do you want?" His voice sounded rough and rusty from disuse.
Something about the person's voice sounded like they were smiling, "I'm here to get you out."
"What??" Shock was obvious in his voice.
"You heard me. I'm supposed to get you out and let you go."
"You're kidding me. How is this possible? Where the bloody hell am I anyways?"
"Just come on." The person walked behind him and untied his wrists. He fell forward and landed on the floor hard as he tried to break his fall but his elbows buckled from neglect. He felt bruises starting to form already as he struggled to his feet unaided. The person who'd helped him brushed past him and walked out the door. Chafing his wrists to get the blood flowing to his hands, he followed outside.
Outside was a long white hallway with doors on each side. He put a hand to his eyes as the white brightness blinded him. His pseudo-rescuer walked down the hall in one direction and he followed, eyes still trying to adjust to the light.
They reached the end of the hallway. He was still blinking as the door in front of them opened and they stepped outside. A second later, he had to readjust his eyes again to the darkness outside. It was evening.
By the time his eyes adjusted for the second time, the person who'd gotten him out was gone and he was left alone. Again. He sighed and hurried away from the oddly shaped building he'd just exited.
He wondered where to turn. Where could he go? Honking behind him alerted him to the fact that while he'd been pondering these questions, he'd somehow ended up in the middle of a bridge. With a road on it.
With a yelp, he leapt out of the way and landed on the sidewalk in a heap as the cars whizzed past him. He felt wetness on his cheeks and put a hand up to brush one cheek. Is it raining? Odd...last I checked it's summer. He realized he was crying with a jolt.
And he also realized that it made sense. All of his life was a mess. He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to for help, the woman he loved had betrayed him and sent him to stay in that dark room...it was all so...fucked up. There. Perfect words.
He struggled to his feet and leaned over the edge of the bridge, resting his arms on the railing. The black water flowed swiftly below the metal bridge and made soothing sounds into his ears as he gazed down at them. The bridge vibrated under his feet as the cars and trucks flew past him and further into the night.
He looked up at the blazing lights that cast circles of illumination down onto the otherwise dark road. Then back down at the sinuously moving water. The murky darkness whispered his name in his ear as he leant closer to hear the secrets it held out for him. Closer...just a little closer...
He was falling...no, floating. The air whistled past him as he headed inexorably toward the water. But he wasn't frightened. It was calming. Maybe...maybe he would find the secrets in the calling water.
And then he was sinking. First his feet. Then his legs. Then his torso. And shoulders. Finally his neck, then his head.
"Love you, 'Mione."