- The Illusion of Freedom -
I have no doubt it's been done before, but I wanted to play too!
- The Illusion of Freedom -
He has never known freedom. Will never know freedom. But strangely- that's okay. He doesn't deserve to be free. His mind still isn't completely his own, but he feels that truth in the broken fragments of his soul. He still has a soul. Ragged and torn, filthy with forgotten crimes. He feels dirty. Inside. Whatever he does- and there is nothing that he can do- he will never not be tainted now.
So he sits in his prison cell, barely conscious, and waits for death. Because she bid him live, he does not speed its approach. Neither does he anticipate his suffering ending with his life. He doesn't believe in god. And even if he did, there is no place for him in heaven. But he believes in hell. Knows that he has seen it. The exact memories are forgotten, but the scars remain, too deep to be ignored.
He has been to hell.
He has been the devil too.
So he is told.
The years of his life stretch behind him in an almost impenetrable fog. There is only one thing- one colour- that penetrates the sickly swirling grey.
Scarlet.
He is sorry that she will have to lose him for a third time. Another lie. One more can't possibly hurt. No, in truth, he cannot regret it. Could never regret her. She has returned him to himself. Or at least as much of himself as still remains. He hopes that this is who he is at heart. Wants this to be the shadow of the man that he was born to be. But shadows don't last forever. They are either vanquished by the light or consumed by the darkness.
Because of this near imminent demise, he will never repent seeing her. One last time. Erza. The only word that he kept with him. The one thing that they could never take away. He could have found freedom. In her. If only he hadn't been so sinfully weak. He sees that now. Too late. He sees everything too late.
He doesn't sleep. They don't allow it. But sometimes he slips into fleeting unconsciousness. He can't be sure if the images that flit through his mind are real or not. Often, so often, he hopes not- hopes they are only the hallucinations of a broken mind.
He is a coward. He is afraid to remember. Who he is. What he has done. It is his will that keeps the memories at bay. He won't risk it. Because even now, the prison guards are afraid of him. They have his magic bound so tight he can hardly breathe. So he must have been strong. Once. No, not strong. Powerful. He notes the subtle difference.
It is almost enough to make him curious. He can't imagine wanting power. He doesn't understand. And no one ever tells him why. But then he doesn't really know himself. Who is he to say it doesn't make sense? Perhaps power was once all he craved. A flash of red in the corner of his eye makes his head pulse. His vision blurs. An insult is shouted through the door as he starts to slump. Just the insult today. He's lucky. Sometimes he wonders if they will kill him here in this cell. Accidentally. It would be simpler than a formal execution.
No one would care.
Except her.
She has placed him in Death's hands. She will take full responsibility for that decision. He understands. But he doesn't want her to assume this burden. His burden. These sins are his- he will carry them- and he will pay for them. She need do nothing but forget him. Consign him to some dark corner of her mind, never again to see the light of day.
Instead she carries him with her always, like a manacle around her heart. The armour that she wears will not protect her from a wound that she already carries.
It might be the only thing he knows with any certainty, but he believes, as firmly as he believes in anything, that until she lets him go, utterly and forever, she will never be entirely free. And though it will cast him completely into oblivion, he wants her to be free. Cannot bear to be her prison. It came to him recently. In a moment of weakness. It is the last memory he has that is real. The last one before darkness filled his world. The memory of a child. A boy. A boy that fought. So hard. Before he fell. He fought for her. So that she could be free.
As in everything, he failed.
- Fin -