Story Title: Toys
Disclaimer: NOTHING is mine. Except the story! The concept doesn't belong to me either. Oh, and don't sue me. Please?
Censor: R. Poor Chibiusa…
Notes: Um…major OOC, as always. The setting is after Mistress Nine is killed and crap; I guess you could say around the SS season. Also some very disturbing hints and crap. So run away if you have a weak stomach.
Still here? Well then, on with the show!
Chapter One: Toys
When I close my eyes, I still see the fleeting images hanging in front of me, haunting me. Nightmares plague me, and sometimes I wake up screaming for my parents and I start to cry. After my tears stop, I feel a boiling rage at myself because I was being broken enough to be reduced to tears. The pictures always come at night, when everything unreal seems to arise in a twisted ritual, waiting for me. A collection of demons have the strong desire to claw my sanity away and slowly – ever so slowly – chew them up. Through tunnels, horrible paintings hang on the walls, remnant of the things I have seen.
And then, during these vivid nightmares I inch through, there's another me. The same repulsive blood-colored eyes, the same mass of tangled, twisted cotton candy pink hair. She stands in front of me, not moving, her eyes bright and glossy. That person stands as if she's made of glass, unblinking, motionless. The only thing she can do is watch me powerlessly as I scream in desperation, begging for the demons of the nightmare to release me. Hot tears stream down my face, almost boiling my skin as I try to break free from the reverie.
The other me is almost like another creation because she does not share my feelings; she merely cries for me, hitting her fists against an invisible wall that blocks our communication. Even though we're two separate bodies, I can hear that glass figure's thoughts. As she gazes at me, she closes her wide red rubies under her thick eyelashes, unable to watch my pain, and she thinks: That's not me. She's like another me, looking at me like I'm just in a horror movie, my common sense slowly being washed down the silvery river that souls drown in.
My counterpart is my negligence and imprudent side; not stopping to think out anything and plunging into things headfirst. She is guided by my insensitive heart; the only thing that is binding her down are silvery-gray strings of altruistic wisdom. She simply cries for me because I am her. Her desires, her wants, her unnecessary needs – they're all mine. She denies anything melancholic and she only desires bliss, and in her ignorance and defiance she finds her bliss. Idyllic, limp hands fall to her sides, and her thoughts echo throughout the dreamland: That's not me.
That's not me.
I'm sad to say that person is me. The same rubies flickering under angry pink brows, the same odangos that unravel into curly, knotted strings of baby pink, the same china white skin, and the very same self-centered heart beating. For a fleeting moment, our eyes lock, then the demons claim my arm, dragging me back down into the swampy nightmares where my reminiscences lie, contained in shards of glass. Reality escapes my mind as twisted, chaotic thoughts twirl in a psychotic waltz inside my very own mind.
Gentle winds caress my face, whispering warnings that tell the tales of demons that have driven others to the monotonous oceans of insanity. But alas, I cannot take their guidance and advice, for my feet walk on their own in this dream.
The path that twists out of the tunnel leads to a barren land, and I walk across a bridge with no railings, only a sea of jagged rocks awaited me as my savior if my feet slipped. I sob, knowing what await me in the chamber of nightmares that lay ahead of my pathway. But no, I am forced to drag my chilly feet over the grimy, pebbled path.
As I turned my gaze to the sky, the air's velvety breath attempting to dry my burning tears without success. The sky was a stultified olive green color, almost the shade of vomit, which I felt like doing right at this particular moment. The sky seemed almost – artificial. Of course it did; this was an illusion, a dream. But it seemed too real – the touch of the wind, the glass doll, and the hot tears that surged down my cheeks. No sanity restrained any part of my mind anymore; the dream's cruel strings were pulling on me, the vulnerable puppet. The demons beckon me; I beg not to let myself follow, but my body disobeys me, taking step after excruciating step forward. Now the tears were not stopping, and I had no strength left in my arms to clean my tears away as I silently inch after those revolting creatures.
I looked to my right – an enormous effort, as my body was being pulled towards that dreaded chamber. On a canyon, far away, that glass doll of me stands, her stabbing, daunting crimson gaze offering no consolation to me. Stifled sobs held in explode, and boiling tears burn down my swollen, pink cheeks. The air now was turning frosty as I approached the chamber. Its livid breathing beats a steady pulse, unrelenting and monotonous.
Once again, she holds my gaze, now her eyes were cruel instead of pathetic and defenseless. Her taunt floated n a hypnotic duet with the furious wind: It's not me. I'm not suffering. I'm perfectly happy. It took me every ounce of concentration to steady my shaking body. To my own amazement, my body slowly stopped my trembling limbs, only shivering because of the light frost that the wind laid on my shoulders. I stare straight ahead, forcing my fear to recede as I replaced my growing consternation with defiance and a steaming fury that shot white-hot through my veins.
I forgot my fear for a blissful moment as the demons presented me to their master. But soon it shot through me, and a painful sensation made the tears flood in my eyes, threatening to burst out in scorching rivers.
I quivered, my hair whipping in front of my eyes, blocking my vision. My nightmare stood, and shards of memoirs shuddered on the ground as he stood. I felt humiliated that I would let a monster that my dark façade's philosophy concocted to stalk my sanity.
As its hot breath slowly covered me in a wave of nausea, all I wanted to do was to run.
Run.
Run away from the bastard – and so I did.
Fumbling with the chamber's door, my sweaty hands managed to pull the door handle and I ran through the sharp, frigid air. Demons searched for me, but I didn't bother to look back. I'd rather die than face my past.
So I flung myself off into the ocean of rocks waiting for me.
I closed my eyes tightly, praying for the touch of death…
My eyes flew open; I sat straight up, my stringy hair in front of my flushed, heated face. "No. It was a dream. Just a dream," I whispered to myself. I covered my clammy face with my shaking, cold hands, dragging them down my cheeks. I felt little crescents cut in my face from my fingernails when I grabbed my face. It seemed so real – the sensations of fear, the demons scouting the area to feed on my sanity, the boiling tears that ran down my face and dampened my cheeks.
"Another of those stupid dreams," I whispered. I slowly crawled out of bed, leaving my snoring mother to sleep peacefully, with no mysterious thoughts plaguing her as I made my way blindly to the bathroom.
*
Ami tapped her chin with her pencil. She was so goddamn bored; she was so bored she didn't even want to study. Azure eyes blinked as she fought to stay awake. She needed to wait until her mother called, someone called with some important message for her…
*riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*
Her sleepy eyes gaze blearily around the room, flat and unintelligent as she searched for the phone. That medium-sized hunk of blue plastic. Ami reached out for it. "Moshi moshi, Mizuno…" she muttered sleepily, breaking off her string of tired, quiet words. "Ano…Mizuno residence," she said, finishing her sentence.
"Ami-chan?"
Ami blinked; she was a little more awake now. It was Mamoru.
"Ami, you sound awful tired. Did I wake you up? Gomen."
"Iie, Mamoru-san…" Ami rubbed her eyes furiously, trying to clear her blurred vision as she gripped the phone tighter, afraid that she'd drop the phone. "Can I…ano…help you?"
"Ano, hai…listen, could you come over to my house? Like now?"
"Why? Mamoru-san, it's two in the morning!"
"Onegai, Ami, this is important."
"Alright," Ami gave a sign of resignation. "I'll be there in a few moments." She hung up before he could respond. Her blue brows furrowed in confusion. What could be so important that he would just call her at two in the morning? Ami brushed her indigo strands away from the sides of her face as she unfocusedly walked down the stairs from her house. She could take her mother's other car, but she didn't want to risk crashing because of the lack of sleep. So she inched painfully on the sidewalk as she rubbed her eyes, pinched her arm, even slapped herself in the face to force herself to stay awake long enough to go to Mamoru's apartment.
It seemed like eternity before she could rest outside the door of Mamoru's house. She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She could barely breathe; it was like strings were tugging on her throat to restrain her breathing. Ami put a hand on her chest and tried to slow down her breathing; her chest rose and fell rapidly. Slowly, she started to calm down again. She sighed and mopped the cold sticky sweat on her forehead with her hand. She turned and knocked on the door.
He opened the door immediately. "Ami-chan," he said softly, catching her wide azure eyes with his intelligent, penetrating gaze. She seemed almost like a dancer in a dream, delicate with wide, intuitive eyes that sparkled like sapphires in any kind of light. "Ami…I know how intelligent you are, and I need your help."
"Ano…okay…Mamoru-san, what is it?" Ami questioned. He gestured for her to come in, which she gratefully accepted. She plopped onto the couch, her shivering body slowly regaining heat. The scent of tea leaves floated under nose. The sweet scent was so strong it almost made her sick to her stomach. Blue brows furrowed in confusion. What would Mamoru need to ask at this time of night? It can't be this important…he must be just overreacting…
Suddenly, Mamoru placed the teacups on the coffee table with a *clink*. She was so lost in her swimming thoughts; the quiet sound brought her back to earth, as if someone had dunked her head in ice-cold water. "Mamoru- san!" Ami exclaimed, "Tell me, what's bothering you? You do look troubled."
On closer inspection, slight purple shadows were under his exhausted but still sensible blue orbs, yet they were bloodshot and he kept rubbing his eyes to wipe away the sand crusting his eyelashes. He blinked, straining to stay awake after the lack of several days of sleep.
His white dress shirt was crumpled and some of the buttons were missing; brown streaks of coffee stained his shirt and his hair was disheveled. He sat down quickly on the couch next to Ami, feverishly rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clean his vision. Ami still looked closer – suddenly, her deep sapphire eyes widened and her blue brows arched in surprise.
Sparkling tears were framing his bloodshot eyes, slowly making their way down his face as he tried to hide his tears from her, covering his face with his large hands. His tall frame started to shudder as more burning tears fell down his cheeks. Through the cracks of his fingers, Ami could see his usually intelligent dark blue eyes were now broken down to shadows that flickered uncertainly and the tears that dissolved the light in his eyes.
"Mamoru-san, tell me what's wrong," Ami said gently, guiding his hands back to his lap with her own small hands. "You called me over for a reason, and I want you to tell me exactly what's wrong. If you're crying so much, then something must be wrong. I'm really concerned. You can tell me, I won't laugh. I promise."
Her wide blue eyes were met with teary, almost lifeless eyes with a dull shine in them.
"Ami…I…have a problem," he croaked.
"What is it?" Ami asked.
Mamoru looked towards the glass doors that led out to the balcony. He could see the city's lights blur from the tears in his eyes. "You know…Usagi and I…" he trailed off, trying to force the words out of his mouth.
Ami's eyes saddened. He really did sound so emotionally wounded, his slightly low voice trembling and his whole body shuddering. "I…Usagi and I are s-supposed to be destined lovers…but…Usagi…I…"
"You saw her with someone else?" Ami guessed.
He shook his black head. Ami blinked in astonishment. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that that's not it, she thought, Usagi would never do that…she only flirts sometimes…and Mamoru never gets worked up over it. He's so sensitive, though. More sensitive than I expected someone like him to be.
Ami picked up a cup of green tea, slowly sipping the warm, soothing liquid and waiting patiently for his answer.
Mamoru gazed back at Ami's wide, startled eyes and wiped the tears away from his eyes. He was done crying now. "Ami…I'm…" He strained to tell her his predicament, looking down and grabbing some of his ebony strands on the back of his head with his shaking hands. "Damn it, Ami, I'm in love with someone else!" he burst out.
Ami gasped, stood up rather abruptly and dropped her teacup. Hot liquid splashed all over the couch, her legs, the floor, and the table, slowly spreading around the broken white china pieces. "Gomen nasai, Mamoru-san, I – I didn't mean to break your teacup…oh dear…" She lowered herself to her knees on the floor and started to pick up the white shards when his large hand reached out to hold her wrist. "Don't worry, Mamoru-san, I'll clean it up…"
"Iie, it's okay, you don't have to."
Ami looked at him, raising a blue eyebrow. "It's alright, Mamoru-san, I can do it." Before he could say anything else, she sweeped up all the shards off the carpet and made her way to the kitchen to dump the pieces into the trash can. She emerged with a cloth dampened with water and she wiped the sticky tea off the carpet.
"Arigatou," he muttered as she rejoined him on the couch.
"It's alright. Mamoru-san, why…with who, though?" Curious blue eyes held his dreary, dark gaze. "Please tell me, I won't laugh."
He didn't answer.
Ami picked up his teacup and offered it to him, but he didn't seem to notice; swirling thoughts were raging in his head. "Is it me?" Ami teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere up with a little humor.
His black head bobbed up and down in a positive affirmative.
*crack*
There goes another cup, he thought.
*
Slowly, ever so slowly, I creep towards the closet and quietly open the door. Then I shut the door behind me and yank on the string. Instantly, a golden-yellow light fills the tiny closet, the clothes and other contents of the place clearly visible. I brush my tangled pink hair out of my face as I search among the messy little room, hunting for my little pink tin box.
Under a pink angora sweater and a peach-orange cashmere sweater, I found it. My little Hello Kitty tin lunch box. I needed a little boost in energy. I ripped open the lid and inhale the sweet-smelling powder. Oh, it smells so damn good…
I picked up the needle, nestled in pink tissues that smelled strongly of peach lotion with trembling hands, looking for a spot I could stick the needle in. I rolled up my turquoise pajama sleeve and looked closely with sleep-clouded eyes. I found a spot. That vein. Perfect. I rolled my sleeves up even higher so that the bunched up cloth rested on my shoulder.
With the precision of a surgeon, I stop my fingers from trembling for I might rip a hole in skin and slowly place the needle in. A minuscule red river streamed from the hole as I pushed the needle further until it was deep enough. I pushed the syringe hard and swiftly – I don't insert it in gradually.
My eyes widened. It hurt a little. A sharp, shooting pain shot down my arm for a brief moment. Then it was gone and my energy soared as I turned off the closet light and marched out of the closet. I felt alert, invigorated – most of all, I felt alive.
Now that I was awake, I could concentrate on the one question haunting my mind: Why did I have these dreams? They felt…so real…It was like I was walking through another world, only reached by a path of dreams among the stars. I was terrified – what did these dreams mean? Were they some kind of an omen? Would I die soon? I shook my head furiously, trying to rid my head of these thoughts. I was stupid to think these things. They probably meant nothing; I was just reliving the nightmares that were the Black Moon Family. That's all.
I knew the sensible side of me was shaking her head sadly, but that glass doll slowly pulled on me; I am her puppet.
Why do I have these dreams?
Am I someone different? I tapped my chin as I stared blankly at the plastic bunny clock beside the bed Usagi and I share. I was so distracted it took me quite awhile to figure out what time it was. "Five thirty," I muttered. "Oh gods, I woke up so damn early…" Maybe I should ask Rei. She has dreams like this all the time.
Another voice told me, But she's psychic and you're not. I don't think she'll be able to help you.
You're right…
With a sigh, I grabbed a brush and savagely ran it through my hair and smoothed out all the knots and tangles before putting my hair up in odangos, then I yanked my school blouse over my head. I tried to put my skirt on, but after ten minutes of frustration, I was thinking all those doughnuts and chips had gotten to me when I realized that I was trying to put my skirt on my head.
After getting all the clothes on the right parts of my body, I smoothed out my blue skirt, grabbed my schoolbag, and walked down to the kitchen to eat some breakfast.
Disclaimer: NOTHING is mine. Except the story! The concept doesn't belong to me either. Oh, and don't sue me. Please?
Censor: R. Poor Chibiusa…
Notes: Um…major OOC, as always. The setting is after Mistress Nine is killed and crap; I guess you could say around the SS season. Also some very disturbing hints and crap. So run away if you have a weak stomach.
Still here? Well then, on with the show!
Chapter One: Toys
When I close my eyes, I still see the fleeting images hanging in front of me, haunting me. Nightmares plague me, and sometimes I wake up screaming for my parents and I start to cry. After my tears stop, I feel a boiling rage at myself because I was being broken enough to be reduced to tears. The pictures always come at night, when everything unreal seems to arise in a twisted ritual, waiting for me. A collection of demons have the strong desire to claw my sanity away and slowly – ever so slowly – chew them up. Through tunnels, horrible paintings hang on the walls, remnant of the things I have seen.
And then, during these vivid nightmares I inch through, there's another me. The same repulsive blood-colored eyes, the same mass of tangled, twisted cotton candy pink hair. She stands in front of me, not moving, her eyes bright and glossy. That person stands as if she's made of glass, unblinking, motionless. The only thing she can do is watch me powerlessly as I scream in desperation, begging for the demons of the nightmare to release me. Hot tears stream down my face, almost boiling my skin as I try to break free from the reverie.
The other me is almost like another creation because she does not share my feelings; she merely cries for me, hitting her fists against an invisible wall that blocks our communication. Even though we're two separate bodies, I can hear that glass figure's thoughts. As she gazes at me, she closes her wide red rubies under her thick eyelashes, unable to watch my pain, and she thinks: That's not me. She's like another me, looking at me like I'm just in a horror movie, my common sense slowly being washed down the silvery river that souls drown in.
My counterpart is my negligence and imprudent side; not stopping to think out anything and plunging into things headfirst. She is guided by my insensitive heart; the only thing that is binding her down are silvery-gray strings of altruistic wisdom. She simply cries for me because I am her. Her desires, her wants, her unnecessary needs – they're all mine. She denies anything melancholic and she only desires bliss, and in her ignorance and defiance she finds her bliss. Idyllic, limp hands fall to her sides, and her thoughts echo throughout the dreamland: That's not me.
That's not me.
I'm sad to say that person is me. The same rubies flickering under angry pink brows, the same odangos that unravel into curly, knotted strings of baby pink, the same china white skin, and the very same self-centered heart beating. For a fleeting moment, our eyes lock, then the demons claim my arm, dragging me back down into the swampy nightmares where my reminiscences lie, contained in shards of glass. Reality escapes my mind as twisted, chaotic thoughts twirl in a psychotic waltz inside my very own mind.
Gentle winds caress my face, whispering warnings that tell the tales of demons that have driven others to the monotonous oceans of insanity. But alas, I cannot take their guidance and advice, for my feet walk on their own in this dream.
The path that twists out of the tunnel leads to a barren land, and I walk across a bridge with no railings, only a sea of jagged rocks awaited me as my savior if my feet slipped. I sob, knowing what await me in the chamber of nightmares that lay ahead of my pathway. But no, I am forced to drag my chilly feet over the grimy, pebbled path.
As I turned my gaze to the sky, the air's velvety breath attempting to dry my burning tears without success. The sky was a stultified olive green color, almost the shade of vomit, which I felt like doing right at this particular moment. The sky seemed almost – artificial. Of course it did; this was an illusion, a dream. But it seemed too real – the touch of the wind, the glass doll, and the hot tears that surged down my cheeks. No sanity restrained any part of my mind anymore; the dream's cruel strings were pulling on me, the vulnerable puppet. The demons beckon me; I beg not to let myself follow, but my body disobeys me, taking step after excruciating step forward. Now the tears were not stopping, and I had no strength left in my arms to clean my tears away as I silently inch after those revolting creatures.
I looked to my right – an enormous effort, as my body was being pulled towards that dreaded chamber. On a canyon, far away, that glass doll of me stands, her stabbing, daunting crimson gaze offering no consolation to me. Stifled sobs held in explode, and boiling tears burn down my swollen, pink cheeks. The air now was turning frosty as I approached the chamber. Its livid breathing beats a steady pulse, unrelenting and monotonous.
Once again, she holds my gaze, now her eyes were cruel instead of pathetic and defenseless. Her taunt floated n a hypnotic duet with the furious wind: It's not me. I'm not suffering. I'm perfectly happy. It took me every ounce of concentration to steady my shaking body. To my own amazement, my body slowly stopped my trembling limbs, only shivering because of the light frost that the wind laid on my shoulders. I stare straight ahead, forcing my fear to recede as I replaced my growing consternation with defiance and a steaming fury that shot white-hot through my veins.
I forgot my fear for a blissful moment as the demons presented me to their master. But soon it shot through me, and a painful sensation made the tears flood in my eyes, threatening to burst out in scorching rivers.
I quivered, my hair whipping in front of my eyes, blocking my vision. My nightmare stood, and shards of memoirs shuddered on the ground as he stood. I felt humiliated that I would let a monster that my dark façade's philosophy concocted to stalk my sanity.
As its hot breath slowly covered me in a wave of nausea, all I wanted to do was to run.
Run.
Run away from the bastard – and so I did.
Fumbling with the chamber's door, my sweaty hands managed to pull the door handle and I ran through the sharp, frigid air. Demons searched for me, but I didn't bother to look back. I'd rather die than face my past.
So I flung myself off into the ocean of rocks waiting for me.
I closed my eyes tightly, praying for the touch of death…
My eyes flew open; I sat straight up, my stringy hair in front of my flushed, heated face. "No. It was a dream. Just a dream," I whispered to myself. I covered my clammy face with my shaking, cold hands, dragging them down my cheeks. I felt little crescents cut in my face from my fingernails when I grabbed my face. It seemed so real – the sensations of fear, the demons scouting the area to feed on my sanity, the boiling tears that ran down my face and dampened my cheeks.
"Another of those stupid dreams," I whispered. I slowly crawled out of bed, leaving my snoring mother to sleep peacefully, with no mysterious thoughts plaguing her as I made my way blindly to the bathroom.
*
Ami tapped her chin with her pencil. She was so goddamn bored; she was so bored she didn't even want to study. Azure eyes blinked as she fought to stay awake. She needed to wait until her mother called, someone called with some important message for her…
*riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*
Her sleepy eyes gaze blearily around the room, flat and unintelligent as she searched for the phone. That medium-sized hunk of blue plastic. Ami reached out for it. "Moshi moshi, Mizuno…" she muttered sleepily, breaking off her string of tired, quiet words. "Ano…Mizuno residence," she said, finishing her sentence.
"Ami-chan?"
Ami blinked; she was a little more awake now. It was Mamoru.
"Ami, you sound awful tired. Did I wake you up? Gomen."
"Iie, Mamoru-san…" Ami rubbed her eyes furiously, trying to clear her blurred vision as she gripped the phone tighter, afraid that she'd drop the phone. "Can I…ano…help you?"
"Ano, hai…listen, could you come over to my house? Like now?"
"Why? Mamoru-san, it's two in the morning!"
"Onegai, Ami, this is important."
"Alright," Ami gave a sign of resignation. "I'll be there in a few moments." She hung up before he could respond. Her blue brows furrowed in confusion. What could be so important that he would just call her at two in the morning? Ami brushed her indigo strands away from the sides of her face as she unfocusedly walked down the stairs from her house. She could take her mother's other car, but she didn't want to risk crashing because of the lack of sleep. So she inched painfully on the sidewalk as she rubbed her eyes, pinched her arm, even slapped herself in the face to force herself to stay awake long enough to go to Mamoru's apartment.
It seemed like eternity before she could rest outside the door of Mamoru's house. She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She could barely breathe; it was like strings were tugging on her throat to restrain her breathing. Ami put a hand on her chest and tried to slow down her breathing; her chest rose and fell rapidly. Slowly, she started to calm down again. She sighed and mopped the cold sticky sweat on her forehead with her hand. She turned and knocked on the door.
He opened the door immediately. "Ami-chan," he said softly, catching her wide azure eyes with his intelligent, penetrating gaze. She seemed almost like a dancer in a dream, delicate with wide, intuitive eyes that sparkled like sapphires in any kind of light. "Ami…I know how intelligent you are, and I need your help."
"Ano…okay…Mamoru-san, what is it?" Ami questioned. He gestured for her to come in, which she gratefully accepted. She plopped onto the couch, her shivering body slowly regaining heat. The scent of tea leaves floated under nose. The sweet scent was so strong it almost made her sick to her stomach. Blue brows furrowed in confusion. What would Mamoru need to ask at this time of night? It can't be this important…he must be just overreacting…
Suddenly, Mamoru placed the teacups on the coffee table with a *clink*. She was so lost in her swimming thoughts; the quiet sound brought her back to earth, as if someone had dunked her head in ice-cold water. "Mamoru- san!" Ami exclaimed, "Tell me, what's bothering you? You do look troubled."
On closer inspection, slight purple shadows were under his exhausted but still sensible blue orbs, yet they were bloodshot and he kept rubbing his eyes to wipe away the sand crusting his eyelashes. He blinked, straining to stay awake after the lack of several days of sleep.
His white dress shirt was crumpled and some of the buttons were missing; brown streaks of coffee stained his shirt and his hair was disheveled. He sat down quickly on the couch next to Ami, feverishly rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clean his vision. Ami still looked closer – suddenly, her deep sapphire eyes widened and her blue brows arched in surprise.
Sparkling tears were framing his bloodshot eyes, slowly making their way down his face as he tried to hide his tears from her, covering his face with his large hands. His tall frame started to shudder as more burning tears fell down his cheeks. Through the cracks of his fingers, Ami could see his usually intelligent dark blue eyes were now broken down to shadows that flickered uncertainly and the tears that dissolved the light in his eyes.
"Mamoru-san, tell me what's wrong," Ami said gently, guiding his hands back to his lap with her own small hands. "You called me over for a reason, and I want you to tell me exactly what's wrong. If you're crying so much, then something must be wrong. I'm really concerned. You can tell me, I won't laugh. I promise."
Her wide blue eyes were met with teary, almost lifeless eyes with a dull shine in them.
"Ami…I…have a problem," he croaked.
"What is it?" Ami asked.
Mamoru looked towards the glass doors that led out to the balcony. He could see the city's lights blur from the tears in his eyes. "You know…Usagi and I…" he trailed off, trying to force the words out of his mouth.
Ami's eyes saddened. He really did sound so emotionally wounded, his slightly low voice trembling and his whole body shuddering. "I…Usagi and I are s-supposed to be destined lovers…but…Usagi…I…"
"You saw her with someone else?" Ami guessed.
He shook his black head. Ami blinked in astonishment. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that that's not it, she thought, Usagi would never do that…she only flirts sometimes…and Mamoru never gets worked up over it. He's so sensitive, though. More sensitive than I expected someone like him to be.
Ami picked up a cup of green tea, slowly sipping the warm, soothing liquid and waiting patiently for his answer.
Mamoru gazed back at Ami's wide, startled eyes and wiped the tears away from his eyes. He was done crying now. "Ami…I'm…" He strained to tell her his predicament, looking down and grabbing some of his ebony strands on the back of his head with his shaking hands. "Damn it, Ami, I'm in love with someone else!" he burst out.
Ami gasped, stood up rather abruptly and dropped her teacup. Hot liquid splashed all over the couch, her legs, the floor, and the table, slowly spreading around the broken white china pieces. "Gomen nasai, Mamoru-san, I – I didn't mean to break your teacup…oh dear…" She lowered herself to her knees on the floor and started to pick up the white shards when his large hand reached out to hold her wrist. "Don't worry, Mamoru-san, I'll clean it up…"
"Iie, it's okay, you don't have to."
Ami looked at him, raising a blue eyebrow. "It's alright, Mamoru-san, I can do it." Before he could say anything else, she sweeped up all the shards off the carpet and made her way to the kitchen to dump the pieces into the trash can. She emerged with a cloth dampened with water and she wiped the sticky tea off the carpet.
"Arigatou," he muttered as she rejoined him on the couch.
"It's alright. Mamoru-san, why…with who, though?" Curious blue eyes held his dreary, dark gaze. "Please tell me, I won't laugh."
He didn't answer.
Ami picked up his teacup and offered it to him, but he didn't seem to notice; swirling thoughts were raging in his head. "Is it me?" Ami teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere up with a little humor.
His black head bobbed up and down in a positive affirmative.
*crack*
There goes another cup, he thought.
*
Slowly, ever so slowly, I creep towards the closet and quietly open the door. Then I shut the door behind me and yank on the string. Instantly, a golden-yellow light fills the tiny closet, the clothes and other contents of the place clearly visible. I brush my tangled pink hair out of my face as I search among the messy little room, hunting for my little pink tin box.
Under a pink angora sweater and a peach-orange cashmere sweater, I found it. My little Hello Kitty tin lunch box. I needed a little boost in energy. I ripped open the lid and inhale the sweet-smelling powder. Oh, it smells so damn good…
I picked up the needle, nestled in pink tissues that smelled strongly of peach lotion with trembling hands, looking for a spot I could stick the needle in. I rolled up my turquoise pajama sleeve and looked closely with sleep-clouded eyes. I found a spot. That vein. Perfect. I rolled my sleeves up even higher so that the bunched up cloth rested on my shoulder.
With the precision of a surgeon, I stop my fingers from trembling for I might rip a hole in skin and slowly place the needle in. A minuscule red river streamed from the hole as I pushed the needle further until it was deep enough. I pushed the syringe hard and swiftly – I don't insert it in gradually.
My eyes widened. It hurt a little. A sharp, shooting pain shot down my arm for a brief moment. Then it was gone and my energy soared as I turned off the closet light and marched out of the closet. I felt alert, invigorated – most of all, I felt alive.
Now that I was awake, I could concentrate on the one question haunting my mind: Why did I have these dreams? They felt…so real…It was like I was walking through another world, only reached by a path of dreams among the stars. I was terrified – what did these dreams mean? Were they some kind of an omen? Would I die soon? I shook my head furiously, trying to rid my head of these thoughts. I was stupid to think these things. They probably meant nothing; I was just reliving the nightmares that were the Black Moon Family. That's all.
I knew the sensible side of me was shaking her head sadly, but that glass doll slowly pulled on me; I am her puppet.
Why do I have these dreams?
Am I someone different? I tapped my chin as I stared blankly at the plastic bunny clock beside the bed Usagi and I share. I was so distracted it took me quite awhile to figure out what time it was. "Five thirty," I muttered. "Oh gods, I woke up so damn early…" Maybe I should ask Rei. She has dreams like this all the time.
Another voice told me, But she's psychic and you're not. I don't think she'll be able to help you.
You're right…
With a sigh, I grabbed a brush and savagely ran it through my hair and smoothed out all the knots and tangles before putting my hair up in odangos, then I yanked my school blouse over my head. I tried to put my skirt on, but after ten minutes of frustration, I was thinking all those doughnuts and chips had gotten to me when I realized that I was trying to put my skirt on my head.
After getting all the clothes on the right parts of my body, I smoothed out my blue skirt, grabbed my schoolbag, and walked down to the kitchen to eat some breakfast.