Torn Apart: Part Five
By. Bento Box
01/01/02
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He felt light again. He felt as if he was floating on a cloud and as his feet moved to slide from the bed, he felt as if everything had become the soft shadows of darkness.
And as he moved from his shadowy resting place, he felt oddly empty.
As if someone had gone in and cleared everything out inside of him. He wasn't sure if he liked it, but a voice inside of him whispered why wouldn't he? He couldn't feel anything so why would he care if he liked or disliked?
The voice confused him so he shut it out. It buzzed softly inside his ears.
Shadows started to shift as he made his way out the door and into the dark hallway.
The floor was cold and with each step he felt his feet start to turn numb.
The shadows began to shift faster and he suddenly felt the barest of touches along his skin. He started to feel cold, and the numbness of his feet retreated slowly as if being drained away.
He suddenly realized with a startling clarity that he was wandering in a dark hallway with nothing but a thin shirt and shorts on; the cold started seeping in and the temperature dropped.
He stopped then, frozen in his place. He stood there, slowly beginning to shiver with the bumps upon his flesh rising.
Then the chiming began. The soft tolling of bells in the distance. It began to grow louder and louder. The distance seemed to close in around him and the ringing seemed closer.
He felt something glide past his cheek, and he turned his head to follow it.
The hallway had become a dead-end and he stared at the door now in front of him. He hesitated, a foreboding feeling washing over him, but he wasn't able to stop himself from taking one step towards the door.
Then another.
And another.
He couldn't stop himself from reaching for the knob.
He couldn't stop the screaming that was torn from him once he had opened the door.
He couldn't stop the flow of images that flickered and slashed at his eyes like a hurricane.
He couldn't stop.
Couldn't.
Stop.
Himself.
---
He couldn't see anything when he opened his eyes and his breathing was uneven, coming in with short gasps and breaths.
He wasn't even sure if his eyes were open. Everything was so dark.
"Farfarello?"
The name slipped out into the blackness, disappearing into the invisible arms of nothing. He uttered a small whimper and wished the darkness would go away.
As if something had heard the silent wish, the darkness began to recede around him and he began to feel the slight movements of his body once more. He felt the blood rush through his fingers, cold and numb spikes driven away by the newfound heat brought forth by movement.
The sheet that slipped from around his shoulders weighed and felt like nothing.
There was no light to guide him except for an uncontrollable instinct inside of him that told him to move and whispered to him to get up and stand.
Like a programmed machine he walked, gliding across the floor with soft feet slowly growing cold.
"Mommy once told me I was a bad boy."
He stopped in his tracks, blinking in confusion.
"Daddy once told me that I was too pretty to be his son."
His eyelashes fluttered as the world began to spin around him.
"Mommy didn't tell me she loved me."
What was going on? He felt so... so dizzy....
"Daddy made me bleed."
His lips moved in a silent plea. Where was Farfarello? Schuldich? Anyone. Someone.
"Mommy watched me cry."
The world began to tilt and his body swayed, trying to adjust to the strange alterations in his surroundings. He stood shakily on his feet.
"Daddy made me want to die."
He had nothing to brace on and he was falling again... falling....
---
The clock ticked far off in a corner of the room.
There were no lights, only darkness and shadows.
Outside the door footsteps echoed hollowly against the floor, and then there came a soft scratching at the door. The sound of metal sliding into the hole whispered quietly in the room, and there were murmurs as the lock opened with a soft click.
Light streamed in from behind, illuminating the faces and figures in dim halos.
Cold blue eyes flickered briefly and a silence fell among the figures.
Silently and swiftly, like the breaking of the calm before the storm, they rushed to the fallen figure on the floor. The chest was heaving so shallowly and painfully.
The clock continued to tick in the darkness.
---
Author's Notes: Oooookaaaaaaaay theeeeen. ;;o.O That was just bizarre. XD; If you guys can't seem to understand the way I write, I'll try to ease your confusion... I write in an abstract way. *nods* So everything I write is unexplainable, weird, and flat-out inexplicable. ^_^; That is, it's weird, unexplainable and confusing to those of you who aren't as equally weird and twisted as me. *^^* Until next time... ADIOS PEOPLE! XD; *Box is simply a strange, strange, strange child*
Italics indicates flashbacks or bizarre mental voices; normal text indicates present tense or memories.
