A short Pandora Hearts drabble. I was bored, so I made a stream of consciousness about the Abyss. Edited slightly so it would make sense. Told from Alice's point-of-view.
Darkness... There was only darkness... There was no sound... no life... no feeling. But there was that cold. A cold that sunk into your very soul. It was annoying. And there was that void. That empty void that followed you no matter where you went. And it was always laughing. Always mocking you. It was that mockery that told you that a piece of your existence was missing, but you could never get it back.
That was just how the Abyss was. Cold and dark and lifeless and cruel. There was another word for it, too. It was perfect for it. But that word was part of the void, too. It would be a long time before I would know what that word was, and why it made the void stay with me.
Endless fighting. How else do monsters spend their time? They would hunt-stalk-other inhabitants until a challenge was made. And all hell would break loose. A burning hell in a cold, empty space. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes-or even seconds-or last for days. But, I suppose there isn't an accurate way to tell time in this place. Sometimes other Chains would join; sometimes they would flee in fear.
And purpose. There was no purpose for the Chains locked away in the Abyss. That's why it's bad when they escape into the human world. And it's really bad when they contract with a greedy mortal. One for a goal and one with no purpose. There is no deadlier combination.
I don't know when the Abyss came to be. Some say it is as old as time itself. Or it was older than that-before anything came to be. There aren't any Chains old enough to tell. Yes, Chains can die, too. It's rare, but it can happen.
It's even rarer to make contact with a human. It's strange, considering how many of them contract with Chains. But it's believed they're in a special place. A deep well in the Abyss just for them. I almost feel sorry for them. Almost.
There are times I wonder how I got here. I don't remember. And so I don't remember how long I've been here, either. I just, don't remember anything. But I know there's more. I know I had memories. And I know they were stolen from me.
I don't know how. I don't know why. But I know. And I'm going to get them back. One way or another.