A/n: A little dark I guess... I know I cant make him not evil D: Ive TRIED... This is me giving in to it. Evil darkness and no Zero... I must be getting sick or something :S

...

~REST~

Yuuki sat there, after her lessons, staring blankly into space. She was quiet now... years of imprisonment taught her that talking achieved nothing. She could try to stay positive... nothing... she could beg, plead... nothing... cry, scream, rage, refuse food, reason... nothing. She remained there, imprisoned. "Free to roam the house" he told her. But that was it. These hollow rooms, filled with haunted visions and memories.

He didnt even visit her anymore. She stopped reacting to him. It infuriated him. She became less and less responsive, he started to beat her. Anything to get a reaction out of her. When she stopped reacting to that, he went further... taking what little she had left that he didnt possess. Dirty, beaten inside and out, she didnt weep. She died that day, her spirit her hope... only her body went on living. After that day, she reacted to nothing. Never ate... never slept excepting those times she passed out from exhaustion. He whittled down his visits to once a week. Then once a month. Untill he stopped coming altogether, yet she was still kept there. A perfect idea, with imperfect execution. A trophy now forgotten.

She sat in her case, dressed each day in exquisite clothing she had no appreciation for. Hair tamed severly into noble styles of the time. But it was never seen by anyone but the servants who cared for her. It was far more to reinforce her confinement, to give her no choices, no change.

Her only vague repose was her music lessons. As a cornerstone of a noble woman's interests and duties, music was included in her daily studies. For that hour, the last lesson of the day... she could almost see a glimmer of the outside, in the talent she didnt know she had. She was a natural. The piano sung beneath her slender fingers, and she sung with it. The classical numbers she was taught did not satisfy her hunger for expression, so she often stayed, unmoving, unreacting... untill the teachers left, assuming her to be off in her own little world, alone as though in punishment. Once she was sure everyone had gone to their own passtimes in the carefree servants quarters, she sang.

Sometimes, she thought of a tune and lyrics before hand, sometimes she improvised. It didnt matter. It was the only thing left up to her own choosing in a life that wouldnt end... even though she had tried. All that had resulted from that was a large scar and all sharp objects being removed from the rooms she had access to. She thought, maybe, if she died, then someone would remember her. News of her death would reach her loved ones, and even though she couldnt be with them alive, they would think of her, and in that way she could be with them once more.

She was haunted by visions of her days at the academy, faces, sounds... memories. She began to play, slowly and hauntingly, letting out all her emotions in this one outlet.

Playground school bell rings again...

Rain clouds come to play again...

Has no one told you she's not breathing?

Hello I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to

Hello

The music filled the room, swirling around her, her last comfort in the darkness.

If I smile and don't believe

Soon I know I'll wake from this dream

Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken

Hello I am the lie living for you so you can hide
Don't cry

She wouldnt cry, no matter what. Footsteps approached, a distant echo. She wouldnt cry... wouldnt give him that satisfaction. not now.

Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping

Hello I'm still here

All that's left of yesterday

...

Before the last notes had faded from the resounding keys, she walked to the open side of the sleek, black grand piano. Wire cut into pampered hands as wire was torn from its mooring and wrapped securely around them.

...

The door opens. Non existant energy filled worn limbs, draining. A struggle... a sudden snap... wetness. Every fibre straining as she threw everything she had in one last tug. A rolling thud. A drawn out second, or was it a minute? followed by a larger thud.

Bloodstained finger tucked away an escaping tendril of hair as she climbed into her piano, a fitting coffin. Finally she could rest.