"The Garden"
The door releases a resounding click as it latches shut behind him. I remain on the bed, not bothering to dress myself but instead continue to entertain my thoughts. My body is still tingling from the impassioned touches and kisses.
This isn't the first time that I have succumbed to my greed for power, that I have played myself in hopes of gaining something more. It is revolting to think of what I allow myself to do in order to gain a foothold over everyone else. I am aware that many of them despise me because of the affection which the Superior endows upon me. It is understandable. Many a day passes during which I cannot even bear to glimpse my own reflection in a mirror. However, I must excuse myself; this is simply the way of ambition.
Kingdom Hearts is the brilliant goal of the Organization, or so that is what the Superior declared to every neophyte as he was inaugurated into its ranks. We are to be the almighty creators of another world--perfected by glistening new hearts, devoid of the damning darkness that had overcome us all. It was to be our new slate, wiped clean of all sins.
Perhaps that is my excuse. I acted the part of a dog to gain Xemnas's interest, and now I spread my legs for him to keep him intoxicated. This is only the present, and in that new world, I will relinquish any ties to this goddamned organization.
The cold has now returned to this room, and rising to my feet, I grab a robe off of the floor and slip it on. I notice the soft pattering of rain outside, and similar to sleepwalking, my legs unconsciously lead me to the window. I cannot help but cringe as my face reflects on the glass--as brief as the moment was, it still served to show me the dreaded scars on my face. I refuse to harbor such thoughts as I now stare out the window.
I have a perfect view of this strange courtyard. I honestly did not understand why it existed. It is on the side of the castle, its outer edge enclosed by a high outer wall. It has a strange diamond shape that at first appears too narrow to hold anything inside. It was an entirely unnecessary structure, more useful if it was simply gotten rid of.
And yet a certain pink-haired neophyte had taken great delight in its recesses, transforming the awkward slot of land into a quaint little garden full of blossoms and plants. Unfortunately, with Marluxia gone to Castle Oblivion, the garden has become ragged in the months of neglect. Once again, it displays the spirit of oddity.
About the leave the window to surrender to my fatigue, I notice a flash of color that was very out-of-place in the garden. It is small boy with blue hair; he is exploring the garden with a curious fervor, entirely oblivious to the rain pelting upon him. Never thinking that I could possibly compare people with that garden, I must admit that I can relate to this odd situation--being alone, searching in a strange environment for something that might not even exist. I continue to watch this boy with fascination when he suddenly glanced up, golden eyes instantly meeting mine.
Now, this is unnerving. He stares for a couple seconds before raising one clenched hand, index finger pointing. He drags the finger from one eyebrow down across his nose to the opposite cheek; raising his other hand, he repeats the procedure. I know I should look away, but now I am under this elfling's spell, fascinated and horrified.
There is someone else in the courtyard. A tall man, whose face I cannot discern, is towering over the boy--an ominous, knife-wielding shadow of a man. The boy, still staring up at my window, appears to be unaware of the shadow man, and the monstrous form is soon upon him. Using the knife to prompt the boy, the shadow soon has him in whatever position he so desires.
I can feel bile rising up in the back of my throat. Obviously lacking a heart, this scene itself does nothing to move me, but somewhere inside of my forgotten soul, it plucks a discordant note--a memory long suppressed of a somebody whom I had destroyed the existence of.
"You know why you're here, boy?" That disgusting voice never seems to stop. "Because you are nothing, mere leftovers. No one cares about your scrawny ass. A waif like you is good for hardly anything, but we'll see what accommodations we can dig up for you."
I sit, cowering before the tall man. My family, recently passed away in an unforeseen tragedy, had no plans for my safekeeping, and thus I am here--a workhouse of sorts. He suddenly pulls back on my blue hair, staring at my face with scrutinizing eyes. Silent, he suddenly smirks and yanks me from the room. He leads me through a countless number of doors before finally throwing me into room, much smaller than before and darker. There is a post there that he binds me to, and panic slips through every nerve in my body.
As he begins to remove my clothing, I yelp. "What are you doing?!"
He gives me a sharp slap. "Tsk, you shouldn't be so noisy. Clients wouldn't like that." As he is tugging my pants off, he finishes explaining. "You're too weak for regular duties, so you'll be added to the 'special ward.' You can consider this your initiation." His next movements are rough but quick, and it is soon over, but my body feels devalued beyond measure. Somehow, I still can't cry, regardless of the grief surging through me.
He still isn't finished. After redoing his pants, he leans over me, producing a long, thin knife from a sheath attached to his belt. He uses his own legs to pin mine down, and he almost gently grips my face with one hand, forcing me to look at him. "Now you're here to stay." All gentleness is ripped from his face as he pushes my head back and places the knife onto the skin of my brow. "As long as you're here, this will be your namesake."
Shuddering, my eyes slide open to allow the outside rain to replace the mental images flashing through my mind. I hadn't even noticed that I had closed my eyes, and shooting a glance down at the courtyard, I find it vacant yet again. Much more time than I must be aware of has passed, for the room has gotten very dark. There is a quiet noise behind me, and panicked, I spin around, and claws collide with a solid mass. A shattering noise erupts in the silence as I realize that I had struck only an inanimate object.
Sighing, I step over the mess to turn a lamp on, and looking back at the floor, there is nothing but a mutilated chair lying on there. The tall man is gone. You know he's gone, I tell myself.
It is the middle of night. I have been in this prison for over ten years, and enough has been enough. He is completely unaware, sleeping away his worries. The full moon is bright tonight, and I can see it shining through the window. People say that some go insane on the night of the full moon, and I suppose I now understand that more than ever.
The man stirs slightly, and with eyes barely open, he mumbles something incoherent. It would be more satisfying to have him scream and beg for mercy. But I am impatient on this delirious night. I have had enough. My fingernails dig into the man's throat, cutting off any air supply. His eyes fly open, but as he struggles, it is evident that I am no longer the weak boy that was abandoned on his doorstep. I cannot make myself release him even when he stops struggling and falls victim to rigor mortis's icy grip.
My heart feels so tight as I stare at this monster of a man beneath me, and wanting to escape everything, I lift my eyes to the rays of moonlight glistening on the window panes. The pressure in my chest slowly lessens while my vision blurs. What should be frightening is actually comforting me. The silver light looks so intoxicating, I think as I let go of my victim and stumble towards glimmer. I never reach it though as my eyesight faded into black.
It was following that night of insanity that the Superior found me, amazed that someone who had known nothing of hearts and heartless could become an intelligent nobody like himself. It had taken much to subdue me, for every fragment of bitterness, rage, and ferocity had remained in me while other emotions were forgotten. And now, I am this empty shell, doing whatever I can to lessen the pain of my current existence and straining for that evanescent vision of a utopian world that the Superior cherishes.
It is all I can do to keep groping for that dream. News that some of our comrades were being slain at Castle Oblivion has planted shards of despair in me, unable to fully believe in that future Kingdom Hearts. It is a thought that is dangerous to hold, but I cannot erase the mental voices whispering how I would never change from the being I had been.
Freak. Idiot. Stupid. It is the voice of that man--dead for so long. Ignoring it, my stare returns to the window, hoping with a foreign feeling of dejection that I could see the moon, but the rain still streaks the glass, cold and dreary. The emptiness of emotions that had once been soothing now only serves to suffocate me. If our Kingdom Heart succeeds, every emotion I had known will return to me. Will it truly be worth it to have everything back?
I turn from the window to walk to the bed but am startled to see a young boy standing between me and the furniture--the same blue-haired imp from the garden. He has two gashes, freshly cut, on his face now, forming that carved x. All is silent for a moment, but it is enough. I think of everything that I've endured since losing my heart, and I know everything I need to know.
It is worth it to have a new beginning, devoid of the past's scars. A tiny smirk pulls the side of my lips as I stare at the boy. There is only one last memory I wish to have returned to me, a sliver of proof that once I had been in possession of a heart?
"Boy...what is your name?"
I wrote a majority of this at a painfully early time of day...like 1 a.m. And I think it shows...very badly.