I Will Not Cry
Author: guardian921
Rated: T (hinted sexual assault; language); English; General/Angst; One-Shot
Authors Note: This was what I had hoped would be the first in a series I planned to write, explain the history of Bernard. Now, however, I've decided to simply rewrite this since I am older and able to actually write an M-rated fic. The first chapter is the original while the second chapter will be the slightly altered, much more mature one. Please bare with me, as this was simply a trial story to begin with.
Also, I wish to dedicate this fanfiction to my late grandmother, since I first wrote this during the last vacation I ever had with my her before she died the following year. Although this is a very depressing and morbid story, nothing at all like my grandma, she was the one who always encouraged me to write whatever my imagination can conjure. So Grandma, as you watch me from above, know that you are always with me when I write.
Look at me and what do you see
A child who has lost their way
Wandering in the dark
Longing for a friend
Someone to lead me home
From the beginning of time
I suffered a pain
That left me confused and worn
It tore at my mind
Ate at my flesh
Left me to die alone
It was then that I swore
What I should have realized
A long time before
"You know Bernard, that wasn't very nice of you to tell the elves lies like that," the voice was both mocking and cruel as the enormous tin soldiers threw the over-grown elf to the ground in a heap, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. "Why would you lie? I'm very curious as to know why. I think you know how curious I am."
"It's not a lie," Bernard snarled, allowing the anger he had penned up toward the toy for so long slowly loose. "You're nothing but a toy! A stupid toy that was suppose to simply pose as a living Santa mannequin! You aren't the real Santa, which means that you have absolutely no right to treat the elves this way, or make these stupid changes at the North Pole!"
"I'm afraid that I'd have to disagree with you." The elf felt a cold shudder run down his spine as the maniac toy leaned close to his face, the smell of plastic and rubber filling Bernard's nostrils. "You see I am both living and am the only Santa in the North Pole. Henceforth that clearly makes me Santa Clause, Chris Cringle, Fa Noel whatever, and so on and so forth."
Bernard stared at the toy in disbelief. Curtis, he thought. What have you created? What have you done to us? Toy Santa kept on ranting about something or other, but it fell upon deaf ears as his victim simply viewed the fact that this was the end. The tormented faces of the elves flashed before his eyes. The tears of the children who would suffer from the loss of Christmas; finding nothing but coal in their stockings.
"You aren't listening, are!" Bernard yelped as his attention came back to reality, as the Santa grabbed him by the hair. "Look at me when I'm talking! It's not like I'm talking to the fuckin' tin men here who always wanted goddamn brains!"
"A heart," the elf corrected, smirking despite the pain. The toy didn't even know his stories right.
"What?"
"The Tin Man wanted a heart. It was the Scarecrow who wanted a brain. Both needed something in order to make them more human, just like you. Only you not only need a heart and brain, but real skin as well. Hopefully some that doesn't smell like BO-Rubber."
"That reminds," an evil grin spread across the lunatics face, sending shivers up Bernard's spine again as he felt a chill fill the air. "That was extremely rude and inappropriate of you to mention to the elves. How would you appreciate it if I talked about your fine arse? Hmmm?"
Fear consumed the elf in a way that he had not felt since the Grim Reaper came to the Council of Legendary Figures back during his first year as second head elf. Not only was this language uncommon for his ears to hear, but the gleam in the false eyes were so full of evil that he felt as though he couldn't move.
"Scared? Good!" Bernard felt his breath leave him as the toy kicked him square in the gut with his boot. The kick was so unannounced and forceful that the elf flew back, his back crashing against the wall. Again the toy kicked him, and again, over and over. Tears were held back as he felt his ribs begin to shatter. I will not cry. I will not cry. "Having fun, you filthy, mother-fuckin' pixie? You despicable, slobbering troll!"
I will not cry. I will not cry. Oh Mother Nature! How can he be so strong? He's only a toy! I cannot give him the pleasure of seeing me cry! Emotions are signs of weakness!
I will not cry
I will not show signs of pain
Emotions are weak
Whether joy or dismay
And I swear from this day
I shall never show
Never let them know how I feel
Whether laughter or tears
They will not feel the satisfaction
From my emotions
And I will not cry
Continually the Toy Santa beat the prisoner; all the while yelling profanities and all the while Bernard held back his tears and cries. It was not long after that a warm, sticky substance was felt on his face. Bernard's eyes shot open. Blood! Elves were not meant to bleed, seeing as they were both joyful creatures and immortal. Only a severe wound could cause an immortal to bleed, and he could feel the substance all over his body. Then why don't I feel pain? Why can't I feel anything?
"I see fear in your eyes. I like it! That's what I like to see in my slaves. Ha!"
"A toy maker never serves the toy!" Anger flashed in his eyes as he tried to sit up, but cringed as the pain took over him, causing him to lean against the wall for support. A wave of dizziness swept over him as he tried to focus on the three Toy Santas that stood before him. "He builds it and when he realizes that it's defected, he sends it to the incinerator where all the mistakes go! Which is exactly where you belong! It was a mistake to make you in the fuckin' first place! I hope that you melt you plastic ass off in Hell!"
"I've got a better idea," he reached over to the candle that stood lit on the windowsill. Bernard's eyes widened, but he tried not to show the fear he felt as his eyes followed the flickering orange flame. "Why don't you burn instead?"
Before Bernard could react, the tin soldiers had grabbed him. Despite his struggles, he could not budge from their grip. Laughing like the psychotic toy he was, the tyrant grabbed Bernard by the hand and yanked it at an odd angle in front of him. With a yelp of pain from his victim, he tore the red sleeve, slowly placing the flame at the white underbelly of the Head Elf's forearm. Bernard screamed in agony as his once white flesh slowly darkened a crispy black, the smell of burning flesh filled the air.
O Mother Nature! Make it stop! I will not cry! I will not cry! What is this monster? How could he do this? I can't do this! Make it stop! Somebody, please! I'm going to die! Immortals can't die, yet I'm going to die! Grim! Just take me now and let this end!
"Feels good, doesn't it? That's just a piece of what you and the rest of those mother-fucking maggot spawn will suffer if you ever disobey me again. Understand?"
Tears now fell freely from Bernard's eyes as he let it all loose. Damn his weakness. He simply lay there in a sobering heap, his immortal blood spilling from his wounds that had numbed over, staining his clothes and body silver. There was no strength left in him to bother trying to respond. All he could do was cry; like a child lost in the dark with no form of light or hope. He cried out of pain, out of fear, out stress, out of hatred; he cried out of sorrow, out of confusion, out of longing, out of jealousy. All the emotions that he had held in for so long were finally released in a giant break down, both mentally and physically. How could this have happened? He should have seen it coming and stopped it, but he did not. The abuse brought back so many memories that made no sense to him. A man standing over him with a raised fist, a leather strap in hand. A child huddled in fear as ruby blood plastered his skin. A woman crying and screaming at the man as she hugged him. Why did this pain seem so familiar? Where could he have possibly experienced it before?
This pain it can't be real
How is this happening
I've felt it time and time before
The slash across my back
The stars before my eyes
And I know it very well
From where I can't recall
Nor by whom or when or why
But as the pain fills my soul
Blowing out the candle light
And froze my mind numb
It was then that I swore
What I should have realized
A long time before
"I knew you'd come around," Toy Santa smiled as he bent down to the trembling elf that was sobbing uncontrollably, hugging himself and rocking back-n-forth as well. With a small chuckle, the toy placed a plastic hand to his prisoner's bloodied forehead, stroking the dark locks that were soaked with blood, tears, and sweat from the night's torment. Frowning as the elf cringed at the mere touch, Toy Santa gently stroked the cheek as well. "Anyone ever tell you that you're pretty sexy when you're like this? No? Oh well, that's too bad. Now Bernard, look at me. Look at me. Bernard! Look at me, goddamn it!"
Bernard, who had been trying to imprison himself in the "bubble" that Charlie mentioned a few times when trying to play Neil and analyze him, simply curled up tighter and shook his head. Frustrated, the impersonator grabbed him fiercely by the face and forced his face towards his. Bernard screamed at the pain that shot through his dislocated jaw as he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they would go. He tried to imagine that he was somewhere else besides in his cabin. The image of himself and two elves flashed in his mind. They were in a nice, green glen along the coast of Scotland. Scotland? They were playing tag along the stream and he was it. Wait a minute, why am I a kid? Why aren't my ears pointed like the other two?
It was then that he felt the rubbery taste of fervent plastic on his lips that he became aware of his surroundings once again. Oh Mother Nature! Is he kissing me? Oh please make it stop! Please make it stop! Please! Please… please…
"Please–" he began to cry out in hopes that a passing elf would hear him, only to be cut off as a hunk of plastic forced itself into his mouth, silencing his cries for help. It was the psychotic pervert's tongue. Bernard had the sudden urge to bite the tongue off, but he was so weak that he could only fall limp against the toy from shock and exsation. Bernard felt his stomach fluids churn as the demon began to feel about his body, trying to become familiar with parts of Bernard that not even he knew existed, his smooth, rubber lips tracing parts of his form with such vigor that the elf soon felt himself hyperventilating from the cloustraphobic contact. Staring down at the fallen elf before him, Toy Santa laughed.
"You can't win, my little pet! I am in control here. I am Santa and as a Christmas elf you belong to me. You," he turned to a tin man as he stood up, letting the semiconscious elf slid to the floor in a heap. "Get one of those blasted healers! I want him in tip-top shape, understand? As for you…"
Bernard's surroundings were starting to become dark and fuzzy as the pain and trauma started to claim him. Through it all though, he was able to make out the vague image of Santa, filling him with dread as he turned from the tin soldier to him. "Consider this a warning, maggot! Next time you'll find yourself in a coffin!"
Strange, he mused, the pain having numbed both his body and mind. Why have I heard that before?
And with that, all went black.
I will not cry
I will not show signs of pain
Emotions are weak
Whether joy or dismay
And I swear from this day
I shall never show
Never let them know how I feel
Whether laughter or tears
They will not feel the satisfaction
From my emotions
And I will not cry
Because Emotions are weak
Whether joy or dismay
And I swear from this day
I shall never show
Never let them know how I feel
Whether laughter or tears
They will not feel the satisfaction
From my emotions
And I will not cry…
I will not cry…
Will not cry…
The End?
So what did you think? Good? Bad? Any suggestions? All comments are welcome, but please no flames. They will simply be used to light my brand new fireplace in my new apartment in beautiful Montana. Helpful criticism is welcome, though. I really do hope to write a sequel as soon as possible, however seeing as I'm in college now, it'll be a bit difficult what with my classes and grades, so please bare with me. If I don't get to it, then I don't get to it. Also, I totally cried while writing this. I can't believe I put him through this. All Bernard fans, please forgive me, but I felt that the Toy Santa's evil needed to be exposed.
All characters are c/o Disney
"I Will Not Cry" c/o me