The Diary of Possession.
Summary: P/C Song AU FF.
The world has changed for Phoebe and her sisters, in an unlikely way. Evil has spread and corrupted the lives of witches and mortals alike. And Phoebe has become the 'personal' slave for, who else? Cole Turner. [Cole still has all those crazy powers that he collected from the demonic wasteland, since I'm basing some of it right before he was killed off.] Good witches are now commonly becoming the slaves of demons, and other evil do'ers. Phoebe's sister have considered themselves lucky for not being imprisoned. As for Phoebe, they try to help save her from her captivity, but it won't be up to them to decide the fate of their sister. It will be up to Phoebe to find it in herself to break free of her bondage, but not just from slavery, but from Cole.
A/N: Another one of my song fanfic's focused of course on Phoebe and Cole. Yes, I know he's dead an all. But he'll never be dead in my mind. :P Read/Review. Flame me, hate me, love me, whatever.
Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed, and none of these characters, unless it's someone that obviously never appeared in an episode of Charmed. Or you never heard the name of. Charmed belongs to Aaron Spelling and The WB network. Therefore, I own nothing. :P I am just another fanatic, who has way too much time on their hands. So, please, don't sue. :]
Song: "Haunted" by Evanescence.
First Entry
He has allowed me little solace in my own mind. So I write my thoughts down on these pieces of paper bound into a fine looking maroon color diary.
He gave me this diary, "out of the goodness of his heart." Hah. You're probably the only companion I will have, ever. He will not release me from this bondage and I have no idea to why I cannot free myself.
Is it because apart of me, somewhere inside me, this tiny part of me is too afraid to leave his side? To leave him to this dark, gloomy life? A life without love nor light, or me in it?
I cannot finish now. He is coming for me. They're coming for me. Those frickin mindless min—
Second Entry
I had meant to say minions. But those frickin dumb heads pulled me out of my cell, before I could finish.
Let me tell you about yesterday. When that frickin bonehead pulled me out of this prison of mine. Shackled me of course and my ankles too. Usually I have to act like a damn penguin and waddle my way to him. The bonehead kept pushing and shoving me along ahead. I've already gotten so used to their mindless acts of cruelty I just ignore them, cursing silently that I didn't get to vanquish their sorry asses. Lucky bastards!
My clothes consist of what looked like it belonged to a hobo. I wear long dirty ass pants. Too long if I may add. And a shirt, if that's what you would call it, that has rips and tears everywhere. Everywhere that it usually slips down one shoulder of mine. I think he takes pleasure in my ragged appearance. The bastard.
Once we reached the door of my captor, never 'master.' I'd refused from the first day of my servitude. No captivity, bondage that I would never call him master.
I'm not like those frickin fools outside that take simple pleasure in actually pleasing their so-called 'master' by acting like they couldn't fend for themselves. They're pathetic.
The fool pushed me inside and slammed the door behind me. What was I? An animal? I peered inside the dimly lit room. My eyes had to adjust to the lights, so I had to blink a couple of times. It wasn't the first time that I had been in his room. It probably wouldn't be the last either.
The room is decorated with candles everywhere. No electricity except outside of that room. There is a dark wooden closet, big enough to stuff two people. A bed with maroon satin covers and big fluffy pillows that just say, 'sleep on me!' My eyes scanned the area quickly, until it landed on him he didn't seem to have noticed me. Maybe I had entered too quietly, or just maybe he was ignoring me for that day? He stood in front of the large mirror that was placed right in the middle of everything in his room. In front of his bed, and in between his dressers and shelves. His hair was wild, some of it was in his eyes, instead of how he usually had it back, and kept. It was unkept and it looked better, fitting his nature truly. He wore no shirt, his bare chest seemed to be glistening with what seemed like water. He had just gotten out of the shower, which explained his lack attire and form. He looked, peaceful almost. Like there never was a trace of that ruthless monster that seemed to always consume him during the day, and a masked phantom that came to me at night.
He seems like a schizophrenic, almost!
I had kept my eyes locked on his form, just staring, until I took a shaky inhale, and that seemed to alert him, that I was there . . . watching. He smiled at me, almost grinning, then beckoned me over next to him. I walked slowly, almost dreading that I would have to undertake the same rendezvous that happened basically every night.
Once I stood in front of him, he removed my shackled wrists, and ankles. Throwing them behind him. Sometimes he even used those to his pleasure. He stood up in front of me, his eyes scanning my features. All I could do was stare back at him. His eyes were so enchanting, they made you almost think that all the bad things that had happened to you or are happening will just go away. He smiled at me, as his face crept closer to mine, and one of his hands was placed on my torso, and made its way up underneath my shirt to cup one of my breasts. I took a shaky in hale breath in parting my lips which gave him just enough invitation for him that he devoured my mouth with his. Kissing me hungrily, with passion, his tongue slipping in, mixing with mine.
It's like a dance routine, and you know it so well. When he kisses me, it's all planned out. I know practically all his moves. I know when he wants it desperately. I know when he wants to go slow. I know it all. It's been done over and over, yet sometimes he always surprises me in the end.
Cole is mysterious like that . . .
I finally said his name, Cole. But I don't think he deserve's a name. Sometimes he does, sometimes, but he doesn't. It's all very confusing. But I know what's not confusing, when he wants me, I can feel it. And I knew he wanted me now.
Our lips never parted, he kept his firmly locked on mine, over and over thrusting his tongue deep inside my mouth. I was losing myself again, losing myself to him again. He backed me up to the bed, where I felt the silky satin brush against my pants. It always seems to slide across. There was no need in telling me to undress myself or pushing me onto the bed. I did everything as a routine, I pushed down my shirt that was even big enough to slip down my waist and onto the floor. My pants fell down with one shove. I wear no undergarments so there is no need for unhooking anything at all. As I did these things, Cole did what he had to do. Undress his own self, as he usually did. Which was only to remove the towel that was around his waist.
We both fell onto the bed together, our lips still doing what they always did . . .
All I can tell you is that, I only speak of this like it's boring, because it's the same as always. But it's not boring really. Even if it's the same, I knew he wanted it fast. That's why he didn't do with the caresses or anything else.
He just pushed my thighs apart and entered me. Once he had done that, I could feel myself going with him. As he thrust into me, I moved my hips to the motion he was setting. I was completely out of my mind and somewhere else, somewhere else where I was screaming out his name wanting him to do the things he did to me over and over. I wasn't myself anymore.
I was his. I am his . . . or so they say.
When he came, he thrust himself hard into me, roaring like a lion, but he kept moving, he wanted me to come as well. And I wasn't far behind. As I climaxed, I knew I totally lost myself completely. I wasn't the Phoebe that had rebelled against his cruelty, I wasn't the Phoebe who hated him. I wasn't the Phoebe who was confused most of the time. I wasn't Phoebe at all.
I was just there... I was his Phoebe. I was, I am his possession.
Third Entry
I'd given up counting the days that I was locked in this cell. So that's why there's only those words, which I write there. I don't even know what today is. Only that it's morning, and I sit here waiting to be taken to the showers, and to be given my daily breakfast. I might be locked up and a slave, but they always gave me the best of food.
I guess it's because, they don't want the 'captor's' pet to die quickly. Hah. I'm already dead inside. Only when I'm with him do I really feel there's something left. But sometimes I feel ashamed of myself and my behavior. Sometimes I'm not. It's very confusing to me.
Your lost words whisper slowly, to me
Still can't find what keeps me here
But all this time I've felt so hollow, inside I know you're still there . . .
Later
I am losing myself to him. I've just come back from our nightly rendevous. And now, that I think on it. I can't believe how I can feel so me, when I'm with him. I can't believe that when he brought me up to my breaking point that I actually felt somewhere in my heart that I might want to stay with him that I actually might . . . love him.
Every time I'm with him, I can feel myself give in to his will, as if he controls me completely. His words echo in my head, constantly. All those words, those soon to be broken promises he tells me, and somewhere I believe he just might fulfil it one day.
Entry Four
I've regained control of my life, I no longer feel like I need to be with him to be me. I can be Phoebe, and you want to know why? I think it was because of my sisters. They managed to come to see me, but unfortunately, they couldn't stay, they left in a hurry. But it was so good to see them. I hadn't seen them in months of my captivity. And when they showed it, it was just . . . a miracle. I couldn't believe my eyes that I had to blink several times, but they were there, and they were solid.
We shared some experiences, and we cried. They told me they tried desperately to get me out, but he wouldn't budge. They told me it was up to me, to get myself out. Now that we all know, he won't let me go willingly.
To tell you the truth, this idea of getting myself out, has been done hundreds of times, with no success. I'm still trapped in her, aren't I? God dammit. If I could, I would get of here, but I can't. I don't want to go stay here at all. The frickin' bastard. Well, if he won't let me go willingly, just because he thinks I'll obey him now, he's got another thing coming.
Entry Five
The usual today . . . showered, ate, wrote, ate again. And now, I'm writing and thinking. I've got a plan, it might not be grand, but it's something. When I wrote in here, "if he won't let me go willingly, just because he thinks I'll obey him now, he's got another thing coming." I am not going to obey him as I always do. No matter what, I need to save myself, I need to just forget him, forget everything he promised. And only focus on all the negativity, it would help greatly for me to keep on track, and to not obey him.
Tomorrow, that's when I strike. Tomorrow, when our little 'rendevous' happens. Whatever he does, I must not give in. No matter how much his presence makes me feel so good, no matter how appealing he looks, no matter anything. I must keep on track!
