A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 9: You think it's Over but It's Just Begun

Wind cast, an explosion on her skin stings against everyone of her pores. No air, wet, she's been engulfed by vast water. When she opens her eyes to the blur of the sea she can see him. He is far from her under the sway and shimmer of waves above. He puts a curve in his back, straightens his legs, and heads for the surface. She reaches an arm out for him and swims till she runs out of air. They emerge together above the dark horizon. In the distance there is a dull light.


She plants herself on a glinting black-blue rock to rid the water from her shoes and hair. Sand covers the bottom of her feet and sticks to parts of her clothes from dragging herself to the shoreline.

"Ansem, where are we?" She asks again and combs her hands through her dark dripping hair.

"Dark Margin," is all he says in return before he's on the move again. She leaps off the rock with a sigh and re-continues walking.

"Hurry, Phoebe,"

His tone is slow and deep. He means it. She hurries. The stale salty wind that blows there whips her drying hair around her face and ices her to her core. She shivers because it makes her cold.

Shhhhhh Shhhhh

They both leave foot steps in the grainy black. She tiptoes in the centers of his imprints, but only when the hills of sand become to deep and tedious for her to make her own.

She looks behind. This time she can see where they have been. The abstract shapes fade from her vision as she staggers to keep up with his long strides. It's silent. The sea's crashing waves are the only things heard by listening ears. She doesn't like almost-utter silence.

"Aren't you cold?" She speaks. It's hard to stop herself from shaking.

"No," he stops his trek for a last time and looks beyond the landscape.

She comes to his side and stands close. He glowers at her, but lends her his arm to cease her pathetic quivering. Hesitantly she wraps her own arms around his muscular limb and siphons the heat that radiates from his body.

"Thank you," she presses into his side. He grunts, but doesn't move her.

"Look beyond the desolate rifts of sand. What do you see?" He lifts his chin and raises his head high. She looks in the direction his eyes do.

"I don't see anything, Ansem," she clings gripping the thick fabric of his coat.

"Are you so sure?" there it is again. He knows something.

A long pause. "Yes, I'm sure I don't see anything. Do you?"

"Memory, memory Phoebe. Tsk tsk tsk," the arm he gave her is taken away. Two hands are set heavily on her shoulders. His shadow looms above her head and hides her own.

Uh oh. On the inside she swells with a sudden spark of fear.

The hand that weighed down her left shoulder hovers above her neck. Slowly he taps her chest unlocking a rift into her soul. She gasps whimpering her hasty protests. Without warning he clutches her exposed heart.

She screams reeling back in pain. The back of her head thumps loudly against his hard chest. She thrashes but he's got her tight under his claws. He squeezes harder and she responds with a louder scream that shatters the silence the world was so accustomed to.

Another searing twist of her spirit collapses the surface of her eyes and turns her murky on the inside. He presses his nose into the side of her neck and relishes in the savory scent of her toiled darkness.

"Give in. Give into it," he licks his teeth.

When she can take no more he grabs her by her stomach and uses his other hand to yank up her head and fix open her weary eyes.

"Now Phoebe," he whispers darkly. "What do you see?"


Door.

A door.

A grand door.

Grand and far in the distance. Far from anyone's reach.

No, not one door. Two. Boundless and untouched. She feels that there should be one more. But, there isn't.

She tastes the name of the third on the tip of her tongue. She can, can't see it, and he knows now that she can- can't...when he turns out the lights.

Out they go...

Memory Memory

"That's a good girl,"


Down she drowns in a split second he holds her. A second of eternity on the inside. The voices are screaming again like people tortured by ropes and thrown in infernos of fire.

The hands that sank deep into her flesh emerge, rip pieces and portions away. Wearing away years of her paint. Clawing making everything burn on the insides. They're hissing, yelling, cackling, and turning her sanity inside out.

"Make it stop," she pleads him to.

No stopping, he's much too amused. She eventually gives up.

They—it takes over; tells her what she wants. The want she's need all along.

Close you eyes now...

Shhhh shhhhh

Author's Notes:

Another short chapter, but with good reason. There is another part to this but I feel it would be too much.

Hmm, haha, it seems one moment Ansem is Nonchalant, and in the next he's painfully cruel.

R&R