I do not own Bleach


Waking up was the hardest. Waking up from dreams where you had no home and everything was so strange that it was normal, that is when you have to realise your situation all over again. Every morning (or night) that Orihime woke in Las Noches cut further and deeper, leaving the wounds of her misery bloody and raw.

Aizen took a sickly pleasure to keeping her awake for so long that she was exhausted and drained, allowing the wounds to dry and scab over, leaving only dull thud of indifference. Then letting her sleep for days forgetting all her trials within the sanction of her dreams only to awake and realise her misery all over again between heavy wet gulps for air.

Emotional torture was so much more rewarding he found. He was never particularly fond of torture in the physical sense, at times it was necessary and useful, but terribly repetitive, there are only so many ways a person can act when being subjected to it. But breaking someone down from the inside, the possibilities are endless. No two people have lived the exact same lives, everyone is built differently so everyone is undone differently. That's what Aizen does, he takes people apart, divides them, then listens to the screams.

Orihime falls apart so hideously, so innocently that her hushed tears and silent screams are the most rewarding cries he'd heard since he was a child dissecting insects under the evening light. She is so young that her layers fall apart so easily and cleanly that he can't help but be delighted, interested, aroused.

He always waits for her to wake, watching the small smile playing at her lips, her eyes dancing behind there lids, so child-like and ignorant of what awaits them when she wakes. He smiles his own smile, curls his hand through her hair and wakes her with a kiss like a lover might in the morning.

His smile widens when she screams.