I sit alone and stare at the blank stone walls of my personal quarters. Empty. Always empty. This chamber, my heart, my soul, my life. This home holds nothing for me, and I have a feeling that no place on this Earth ever will again. Aro's words of attempted comfort ring in my ears, their cold and indifferent tone burned into my memory.
"It's impossible to break a heart that hasn't beat in three thousand years," he'd stated flatly. As if this were obvious, a well-known fact. I'd nodded, but just so he would find something else to do. So I could wallow in my own pain. Sink back into memories that will torture my soul until the day I die, and that day doesn't seem to lurk in my near future.
If only Aro knew how very possible it was. My very existence was proof.
I try to remember a time where I could feel anything other than pain, but it has simply been too long. Too many centuries of torture have passed to recollect anything other than overwhelming agony.
When I look back on her, I remember light. Warmth. Comfort. Feelings, words, whispers of love and broken promises of forever. Nothing too long or entirely specific. Snippets of a past life. Memories that are currently fading. I'm holding on to anything I can, any mental picture, or memory of words she'd spoken, but it's swiftly slipping through my cold fingers.
Memories of her used to make me smile, but the muscles in my face haven't been used in so long, I'm not sure they're still fully functional. I'm too scared of the results to test. I have been given no reason to smile since she was torn from my side. Nothing is interesting without her. Nothing is worth the effort.
Didyme.
Oh, how just the thought of her name shatters my soul into limitless pieces. How every ghost of her light makes my dead heart ache in ways that shouldn't even be possible. How I watch my so-called brothers spend the rest of their eternities with the ones that give them a reason. I feel their passion and the depth of their feelings for their significant others. It makes me sick to a stomach that hasn't worked in millenniums, knowing that I had once had that love. She was my reason, and now I don't have one.
I don't want to continue on, so why do I? Why must I feel compelled to remain in this prison, alone with my agonizing thoughts of self-hatred and misery. Is it simply the supernatural powers of others that tie me to this...cult? Or am I subconsciously looking for a purpose when the only one that really mattered was taken from me?
What did I do wrong that I deserved this pain? What had I done in my three thousand years that justified the torture that I have endured and will continue to endure infinitely? Was there anything that equaled that?
I had a hard time believing this was so. I didn't think there was anything any being could ever do that was so terrible that they would deserve this pain that I have been subjected to. No crime. No act. Nothing at all.
I wouldn't wish this pain on my worst enemy. I wouldn't wish this pain on the devil himself, if he existed at all.
So, Marcus popped into my head one day, and this is what came out of it. I actually really like this, and I hope you do too, even though it's very sad and angsty, you know that's what I do. Please review and let me know your thoughts!
