G o d f o r s a k e n





C h a p t e r T w o





'O God, why hast thou forsaken me?'













My mind rebels against the still-life quality of the room, but I refuse to move even a muscle. I have gotten very good at this over the years, seeing how long I could delay the inevitable sleep. I feel the urge to move my leg crash into me, almost painful in its force. I do not move. I can not move. If I move, they'll know, and they'll come for me

I do not let myself think about why I am awake. It makes no sense, but I don't want to think about it. It's better sometimes to focus on the things that you understood, like rage. Like pain. Like horror. Like the loneliness that would steal over you and snatch away your breath; leaving you dumb and hollow, unable to speak, wondering how you were so utterly and abruptly alone. Leaving you wondering why God was so angry with you.

That is the only reason I can think of as to why I'm here in this hellish house with its ice walls and dead, smiling caretakers. In brief, blurry moments I sometimes imagine that I'm here because of what I am, but then the moment fades, leaving me wondering what kind of person I could possibly be to deserve this place. I'm not really even sure if it's real. I'm beginning to believe that it's a special device belonging to God, made for those unfortunate ones who are especially deserving of an awful fate.

I strain my memory, trying to remember what I had done, and could not come up with anything. I was someone of great importance, but I never did anything. Which, of course, may very well be why I was here, even though that sort of thing only happened in fairy tales when the spoiled princess needed to be taught a lesson.

The walls buckle around me, and reality vibrates with a cruel, mocking sound. My hands fly to my ears, and I pull my knees to my chest in a tight little ball, trying to keep the sound out of my ears. It dies away, but there is still another sound beneath it.

It was a roar of pure rage, somewhat like mine had been. Was it only an echo, or was there someone else in this house with enough soul to scream out against the smiling ones? Cautiously, ever so cautiously I sit up in the bed and focus my eyes on the plain wood mirror. It seemed very old, but the glass itself looked as if it might flow right out of the frame. I blink and try to make sense of what I am seeing in the mirror.

I am seeing myself.

I crawl out from under the comforter and crouch on the edge of my bed, warily eyeing my reflection. I am worrying now that Lady Silver would step out of there laughing, and tell me that it was all just a joke and I would have to go to sleep, now. If she does, I think with a certain degree of anger, I will kill her. Anything to keep that sleep at bay. Anything.

The roar is cut off, and I find myself suddenly terrified that the soul had been destroyed, just like how they were slowly destroying mine. I leap out of bed and run to the mirror. I grab the frame and press my nose against the glass, wishing fervently that I could see the soul.

And to my utter shock, I can.

He is standing in the hall right in front of room 201, having what looked to be a heated conversation with a vaguely familiar green haired woman. She does not look entirely pleased with him, but neither does he look pleased with her. I find a perverse pleasure in the fact that things could go wrong for people even when they weren't my kind of predicament.

The man-boy really-is shouting at her. His violet eyes are flashing at the woman in a way that makes me want to shiver. He looks so furious. But I tell myself that fury is better than a blank sheet of ice, like the other inhabitants of the house. He's waving his hands around, and gesticulating wildly at the door behind him. The woman looks concerned, but has the expression of someone who will worry plenty and never do anything.

Curious, I send my mind toward the room that they are arguing about, and after a moment I see why the brown haired boy was getting so excited. There is another boy laying curled up on the ground, just like a little baby. The image reminds me of something. Not a picture, exactly. More like a feeling. A *bad* feeling. It suddenly occurs to me why the image was bothering me so much: he is trying to cry but can't, because the tears are frozen onto his cheeks.

I look furtively around the room. He should be helped. I watch helplessly for a moment, and then an idea comes to me. I admit, I am terrified to even try, but I feel like I have to help him; so I will. As long as no one sees me, it would be fine.

So, taking a deep, steady breath, I walk through the mirror. Reality murmurs angrily, disappointed at my escape, and the fact that I am helping the boy. That makes me all the more convinced that I'm doing the right thing.

I step softly over to the man and touch his arm. My breath hisses through my clenched teeth, and I shake my head. He's either dead or dying. My hand moves towards his neck, and I take his pulse without really remembering how to do so. Well, he's alive. Now what to do with him?

My eyes skip over the room and land on his bed. The ghost of a smile flits across my lips and I pick him up. It's a small struggle (since he's so heavy) but I can manage. I carry him over to the bed and drop him on top. Growling softly to myself, I remove his shoes and pull the covers up to his chin. It reminds me of what they do to me, but he needs it. He's going to freeze otherwise.

I'm moving to leave when my eyes fall on a picture of Jesus with several angels and some holy man from the Bible. A shadowy, blistering emotion erupts within me and I walk towards it with my eyes affixed firmly on Jesus' faintly haloed face.

Angels deserved to die.

*

"What do you mean, I can't demand a doctor?" Duo hissed at the woman.

The woman sighed again. "Duo Maxwell, you don't seem to understand how grave your situation is! If you let Serenity and her comrades know that you know what they've done to your friend, or that you don't trust them, or that you see through their smiles, you're dead. No, excuse me. You'll never die, here. Oh, no! Not death!"

The woman laughed bitterly. Her eyes flicked towards the left, and then down to the ground. Her fingers clenched, and then relaxed. She raised her head again and looked at him squarely. "Not even Death herself dares visit this manor. He just lets these people march on with their dead, cold bodies," she said, her voice beginning to raise.

"Well you're one of them, aren't you?" he snapped.

Her hand flashed out, and she slapped him full across the face. The woman's lips were white where they were pressed together, and her cheeks flamed an angry red. "Don't you dare call me one of them," she whispered.

Duo glared at her and decided to ignore her. He didn't trust anything in this whole damn house. He didn't trust the sweet Serenity, he didn't trust the mean Rei, he didn't trust the livelier Haruka, and he didn't trust the mysterious green haired woman.

"Well what the hell am I supposed to do about Hiiro then?" he demanded, returning to the subject.

The woman frowned. "I honestly don't think you know what you're talking about. Serenity herself wouldn't even go so far as to-" she cut herself off, seeing Duo's expression.

"Okay, fine. You don't believe me? Come in and see for yourself!"

He stomped into the room with the woman close behind and then stopped in surprise. Hiiro was not where he had left him; lying in a shivering ball on the floor. The man was, in fact, very peacefully sleeping. The green haired woman raised an eyebrow at him, and then looked pointedly at Hiiro.

"You need to get your stories straight, Mr. Maxwell."

Duo wasn't listening to her. He was trying to figure out how Hiiro had gotten from the floor to the bed and why the room didn't seem so cold and crowded as it had when he had first entered. His eyes roamed around the room, and came to rest on the large, once beautiful painting of Heaven.

"Ma'am, I don't think that picture's supposed to look like that," he said, indicating the ruined picture.

And ruined it was. Jesus' face had been stripped from the canvas board in tiny, angry strips. The angels' faces had been scratched out by what looked like nails, and King David's face, heart area, and hands had been similarly destroyed. It was a careful destruction. The anti-artist had made sure that nothing besides the faces had been destroyed, and that the end result was one of faceless and inhumane gods, angels, and holy men: blind to the rest of the world.

Duo turned and lifted his own eyebrow at the woman's shocked face. He guessed that she was shocked to see such amazing artwork ruined like that. He knew he would have been if it hadn't been so damned creepy.

The woman took a half-step forward, with her hand outstretched. Her fingers grazed Jesus' stripped face, and then she let her hand fall. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"Koneko-chan," she said in a tiny whisper. She looked down and inspected her fingers. Frowning and rubbing her fingers together, she exited the room without another word.

Duo looked after her quizzically, and then shrugged. He didn't need that over-excitable woman anyways. But she left him with a mystery. Why had Hiiro been moved, and who had moved him? Did the same person who moved Hiiro destroy the painting, and if so, why? Who was Koneko? What was its relationship to the woman? How did the woman know Serenity? What was Serenity? What had she done to Hiiro? What exactly had happened to Hiiro?

He grimaced. Okay. So she had left him with a few more mysteries than only one. But he could deal with it. He was a strong guy, he could deal with a few seriously disturbing questions that could mean life and death. But that didn't mean that he had to like it.

*

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, yet gave off no heat. The light it cast on the chilly room was a thin white light that seemed to be stretched over too much blackness. The real light in the room came from a small, lagged crystal that looked like it had been broken at one time. It shone with a cold brilliance that outshone any fluorescent light. It illuminated the large, richly furnished parlor and the faces of the two that sat silently on opposite sides of the room. One of the figures had drawn back slightly in surprise at the news the other had relayed.

Serenity frowned. "Rei, what do you mean that he's come with news of Endymion?"

Her raven haired companion's expression didn't change-not even in the slightest. "They have come to tell you of Endymion, Serenity-sama. I do not know what the news is-they refused to tell me even a small amount of their mission."

The silver haired princess' curiosity was piqued, despite the chill beating at her heart and mind. "Mission?" she echoed. "Surely that word is a bit strong for what they've come to tell us."

Rei shook her head; a tiny, almost invisible movement. "No. It is their mission to tell you about Endymion. They are not messenger boys, Serenity. They're here on a mission-they're soldiers. Their movement and way of standing perfectly still shouts out what they are. I am amazed that they've survived this long in the war without being noticed. These boys are not the most subtle humans in the universe," she said, contempt lacing her voice.

Serenity looked coldly amused. Rei was amazed? That was a laugh. None of them had felt true emotions since that tragedy a few years after they had defeated Chaos. She refused to admit it, but Serenity was still at a loss as to why it had happened in the first place. The Goddess of the Moon had given her all the Senshi powers and placed the crown on her head, when then two different voices-both belonging to her-cried out; one in joy of coronation, the other in grief of a lost childhood. Then there had been a splitting pain-

--like the one she was feeling now. Serenity's eyes filled with the winter that howled outside their windows and whose cold had seeped into their hearts, freezing the tears that could no longer fall. Beside her, Rei's eyebrows twitched, and she stood.

"Do you want me to deal with her this time, hime-sama?"

Serenity shot a look at Rei, and the image of who she had been flashed through her mind. She saw the girl who's name they never spoke lunging through the mirror, screaming, crying; begging to just-stay-awake. What was left of her heart wrenched, reliving that moment when Serenity had looked into that girl's eyes and seen the mess of what they had done to her heart and soul.

What they had left inside that girl now could no longer even be classified as a soul. It was a gnarled, crippled, twisted black mess of energy that glowed with a dull, fading light. In a sense, the girl was less human than they were. She was essentially undead. Neither totally alive, but neither completely dead. She was hovering, teetering between the two, trying to understand what she had done to herself-

"I'll do it myself," she said suddenly.

Rei, for the first time in what seemed like ages-and actually was-looked surprised. "Serenity-sama," she said after collecting herself, "are you sure that seeing her is such a good idea? I think you should wait until the-"

"I said I'll do it, Rei. Do not presume to order me," Serenity interrupted. She at least owed it to herself to explain why she was doing it.

Rei rose from the plush blood red chair in a fluid, graceful movement and curtsied deeply. Her red dress and black hair glowed in the crystal's white light, and goosebumps rippled up Serenity's arms. Rei looked completely inhuman in this fancy, white parlor.

The silver haired princess suddenly felt utterly out of place with her friend. They had once been friends-didn't they at least owe each other the courtesy that friendship brought? Serenity was beginning to feel like Rei was fake; just like everything else in the manor. Fake smiles, fake laughs, fake hearts, and fake people.

For the first time in years, Serenity stripped all the fancy stitching from her life and examined it. And for the first time in her life, she realized that coming here, coming here to this palace had been the worst thing Serenity ever could have done. The hair raised on her arms as the temperature dropped several degrees in accordance with Serenity's attitude. She shivered, and then clamped down on her muscles. Rei must not know! She couldn't know-but Serenity knew that her friend had seen.

She stood up nervously and touched Rei's shoulder. Forcing herself not to flinch away, she smiled serenely. "You don't need to be so formal with me, Rei. We're friends, remember?"

The raven haired woman rose and gave Serenity one of those empty, blank gazes. "Serenity-sama, I do not remember what a "friend" is. If I do not remember what a "friend" is, how can I possibly be one?"

Then she glided out of the room without waiting for Serenity's response. The princess just stared after her with an open mouth. Realizing how she must look, she snapped her mouth closed and rearranged the folds of her dress absentmindedly as she repeated what Rei had said in her mind. She had no idea that it had been getting so bad that Rei would forget the meaning of friendship. Yes, Rei had been in the house the longest, besides Serenity of course. Then came Ami, then Makoto, and then Minako. Haruka, Michiru, Setsuna, and Hotaru stayed as far away from the manor as they possibly could, and they had a good reason to. The "Outers" as they had been called once upon a time were still bitter about the incident that had changed everything.

Serenity drifted up the stairs and walked right towards the elevator-the hidden one, Elevator Two-and stepped inside. The machinery moaned loudly, and then began to creak upwards. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed to whatever god would listen that this would not be the time that the elevator failed.

It was not.

She stepped out of the cage unharmed, and breathed a sigh of relief. Taking the few steps needed to reach the girl's door, she stopped outside the heavily spelled wooden door with her hand on the doorknob. Serenity heard the sounds of a caught sob, and then someone scrambling away from the door. Holding back her own tiny grief, Serenity turned the knob and stepped inside.

Serenity stood in the doorway for a few seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the unlit room. The *warm* black wholeness slashed at her heart, but the chill that reigned supreme beat it back with barely a flicker of blood. Her eyes finally adjusted, and she could see into that terrifying black room

The girl stood before her, eyes wide like a deer caught in a headlight. She and Serenity stared at each other, until she crumpled to the floor with silent tears streaming down her face. Despite her own feelings, she kept herself still and did not let her run to her side and wipe the tears away. Serenity made herself watch impassively as the girl soaked the wood beneath her with salty tears.

"Bed time," Serenity said softly.

The girl looked for a moment like she was just going to sit placidly on the floor and let the inevitable happen to her, but then color flamed in her cheeks and those blue eyes that Serenity envied so much began to burn with an inner fire. The girl staggered to her feet and then drew herself up tall.

Serenity stared at her in something that felt close to awe. This simple girl-a girl that refused to follow orders-stood there staring at Serenity in open defiance. She was scarred, her hair hung in limp blonde tatters, and her face was smudged with dust that had accumulated over years of sleep. The girl began to inch sideways, while Serenity just looked on in curiosity. The girl's eyes flicked to the side, and Serenity suddenly realized the girl's intentions.

"Venus Love Chain!" she cried just as the girl flung herself at the mirror.

*

Hiiro sat up in bed, rubbing his head. Something had happened to him-but what? There had been a pinprick of pain in his left shoulder, and then every ounce of feeling had drained from his body. He had fallen to the ground at watched through closing eyelids as Duo had walked in and then left.

And that was all he remembered. He did a body-check, making sure that nothing was out of the ordinary. He tested his arms, legs, back, neck, feet, hands, and everything else he had been taught to check. Nothing had appeared to happen to him, so why did he feel so wrong? Then he noticed it. His hands were white.

White. Not pasty grayish like they show in movies where the hero is battling a disease. His hands were white. Pure white. The absence of any color that was supposed to be there. Hiiro touched his forehead and scowled deeply. His head was cold. Ice cold. Testing his arms and legs, he discovered that they were cold too. But he wasn't cold.

His scowl deepened. He did not like it when things did not make sense, and things most definitely did not make sense right then. A shriek tore through his room, and his head snapped up right in time to see an arm come through his mirror. The arm grabbed the frame of his mirror and pulled. The next thing he saw was a face.

Hiiro stared. There was a girl that looked somewhat like Serenity's lost twin sister coming through his mirror. She raised her eyes to his, and she cried out a wordless plea for help.

"Who are you?" he asked in a monotone.

A look of pure fury contorted her pretty face, and she was yanked backwards. Her fingers were becoming white trying to keep a hold of his frame. Her mouth opened, and then closed with a snap. She twisted, and then was yanked backwards again. She let out a loud sob as blood ran from her fingers out of the cut made by Hiiro's sharp mirror.

"Jupiter Oak Evolution!" someone from the other side of the mirror cried out.

His mirror flashed green, and the girl screamed in pain. Then her eyes began to flutter closed, but the tears didn't stop. They kept dripping down her face, making tracks in the history of dust on her cheeks. Her fingers slipped from his frame, and she was sucked backwards. His entire mirror rippled, and he just kept staring.

"There was no way that was real," he said to himself. Then he laid his head back on the pillow, convincing himself that it was just a dream. A bad, bad dream. A dream of a tortured soul trying to escape something or someone that could not be escaped.

Duo burst into the room and looked around wildly. "Hiiro! Who screamed? That's the second time today!"

Hiiro frowned, and rolled over so that his back was facing Duo and the open door. "No one screamed. I was dreaming. No one screamed," he repeated.

The braided man looked strangely at him. "Bull shit, Hiiro! Everyone heard the scream. That Rei lady flipped out and went upstairs muttering about weak-hearted people who just couldn't do what needed to be done."

"Rei flipped out," Hiiro echoed skeptically.

Duo scowled. "Well, her eyebrow twitched, and I consider that to be flipping out for her. Haruka went nuts, and started shouting about seeing someone named Koneko, which I think is a really weird name."

The braided boy suddenly stopped, as if realizing that he was just trying to fill the space that was a given in Rosethorn Manor. "Hiiro, something is seriously wrong with this place." A dark look crossed his face. "What was your dream about?"

Hiiro grunted and glared at Duo. "Get out of my room."

"Hiiro, I need to know! Something is wrong with this manor! There is something wrong with these people! There've been two screams today, I found you passed out on your floor, and now you're as white as a sheet! Something is going on!"

"You've been watching too many movies, Maxwell. Now get out my room!"

Duo clenched his teeth and walked out of the room. Let the damn house take him. See if he cared. If Hiiro was to blind to see that something wrong could happen, and that this time it might not be something that they knew how to handle.

*

Sleep.

Sleep, she said to me.

(wake up) What?

(wake up!) But I can't-(wake up now!)

My eyes opened. I was awake, and I had never felt so unleashed. I felt like I could do anything if I wanted to. The pictures of the people that I had interacted with danced fleetingly through my sleep clogged mind, and I suddenly knew what was going on. Over all the thousands of years I had spent alone, I had considered myself the only person in the universe. But now I knew that there were souls out there. Souls out there that could still burn.

And I was now operating in real time.

I slid out of bed and stood perfectly still. I stood like that for several hours, until I was sure that no one knew I was awake. I giggled, scaring myself with the sound. I smiled broadly, wondering what they would say if they saw me awake only ten minutes after I had been put back to sleep? They'd make me sleep again, but could they really? I'd just wake up and then come for them. I'd come for them, and I'd make them pay.

I giggled to myself, and I almost felt like a part of me drew away in fear, but I dragged it back. I wasn't enough of myself as it was. I couldn't afford to lose any more of my spirit. It's a known fact, I thought with a bright smile as I leaped jauntily towards the mirror, that the less of a person you are, the less sane you are too. I paused, reflecting on this. Was it true? Of course it was!-I thought with a merry laugh.

But how to make the smiling ones pay? I thumped down to the floor and crossed my legs; thinking.

(not yet)

Not yet. Of course. I wanted to scare them first. Angels deserved to die and Serenity needed to be shown that you can't simply dispose of someone with a soul that could burn. What a terrible waste of life!

Without a real thought, I rearranged my legs in a position that I half- remembered. I rested my hands on my knees and closed my eyes. Could I still burn? I reached inside myself and touched the rage, the pain, and the terror. My soul was burning with flames twisted black and blue. That was not the color one should burn, but I could still burn.

A tiny, pleasant smile carved itself into my face and I stood up. I turned to face the mirror and projected my thoughts there. No, I did not want them to see me. I wanted to see her. The image came to me with frightening clarity. The room was decorated in red and black, and was carefully Spartan. My eyes roamed around her room, and then fell on the painting of someone that actually looked familiar. She was tall, and was wearing a crown. Lavender hair fell in long pigtails from two buns that looked like mine, but much more tidy. I was tempted to ignore her, but then I saw the incriminating evidence. Large, feathery wings extended from her back.

I growled deep in my throat and stepped through the mirror. Without taking my eyes from the woman's face, I removed the chunk of crystal from its place in my pocket. I had no idea where it came from, but I had found it on a chain around my neck the very first time I woke up. I had never really given it much thought, but it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't have to tear my nails because I was destroying works of art. I could use a sharpened weapon. So during my last time awake, I had sharpened it to a gleaming point, made especially for the destruction of angels. For some reason, it seemed that crystal was a fitting death. Death by crystal.

A sick chuckle escaped my lips, and I looked around guiltily. Good. No one had heard me. I raised the crystal to the painting with a thoughtfulness that both frightened and exhilarated me. In my hand was absolute power. I placed the sharpened point and pressed it against the angel's forehead. With sudden viciousness I tore through the canvas and ripped downwards. Her face faded away beneath my crystal, and then I stepped back and surveyed my work

She was an angel. A megami. The Megami no Tsuki, as the plaque proclaimed her.

Let her return to God, then, I thought with grim satisfaction. I had destroyed the entire painting, even though it was progress in my eyes. Angels deserved to die, after all. There was a cross right through the middle of the woman, obscuring her wings, shoulders, her face, and a line down the middle of her body.

Angels deserved to die, I said to myself again.

I heard the creak of floorboards outside the room and flung myself at the mirror. I crouched inside my room, watching in avid fascination as the dead woman entered her room and then stopped in shock when she saw the painting. Her mouth dropped open, and then she spun and flew out of the room. I clutched my belly and rolled to the side; faint with soundless laughter. Humming to myself I stepped back through the mirror, but not appearing in any room.

This time when they came to my room to take me, I wouldn't be there.





_______________________

Eh. *scratches head* What do you think? I'm not so great at this whole un-funny thing, as far as I'm concerned. Jesus, I don't think I can do this! I don't think I'm going to continue. *shakes head* Way too traumatizing for me, I have to say. *sniff* And after just seeing "The Ring" I'm still kinda traumatized about that... *sniff* Oh yeah, you might want to check this aspiring authoress out. She's pretty good. Her name's watergoddess, and she's writing this story loosely based on Harry Potter, but it's mostly about psycho girls, magic powers, and mysterious men... THAT story's called Rain. Her other story is called Death-Bringer, and that's good too. Check her out and review! You won't regret it!