I don't own these characters, or the song Stein um Stein, by Rammstein. And this is a rough draft, I wrote it in like 2 seconds to just get my head awake lolol so umm.. I may or may not rewrite it at a future date. If you'd like to see the shiny polished one tell me so in a review and I'll be sure that you do. ... that's all. XD!
Stein um Stein
She stares with bleary, bloodshot eyes at nothing. That's what happens when you're stressed, when you can't sleep and you're not sure you want to, when you're in pain. That's what he tells himself. He knows the feeling, too familiar. Watches her with a detachment because of it.
He knows that she's not stupid... he can tell because she's stopped squirming, over night has accepted her fate. For hours she would writhe and fidget and whine and he would just watch from the shadows, watch her tiny shoulders rise and fall to pull the wrists out of the ties, the ropes only grinding and burning her skin even worse, wearing them down, but now sits still, like a doll. Her lower forearms are beginning to match the color of her hair, chaffed and bruised, blushing marvelous shades of red, almost burgundy.
From where she is, she can't see him. He's crouched in the corner, cloaked by the darkness, just watching her in the little pool of light flooding over, waiting for a moment, collecting himself. It's a sure decision, he just wants to watch her suffer a little more, wants to wait until he just can't stand the appeal of it any longer. The best pleasures of life are drawn out as such, just hang on until it's about to explode.
She hasn't moved in quite a while now, an hour perhaps. Shoulders hang lazily and hopelessly, head hangs down over her chest, hair limp around it. The blood trickling from her lip and her nose has made a little stain on her beige cargo pants, her tears had long since dried. It had taken a long time before she finally started crying. That was the transition- he'd seen it clearly while just watching and waiting. There had been a specific point, where she realized it was the end, that it was useless to keep fighting. And that was when she'd started to cry. No words, no voice, just the tears. He was silent, watching her head turn here and there, neck twisting, trying to see into the darkness, trying to tell what was around her. Surely she felt his eyes watching, felt his still breath somewhere against her.
In the darkness he reaches slowly beside him, lets his fingers graze the metal petrol container. She's still alive, he can see her body just barely moving with the shallow breath. And it's time, isn't it? No use dwelling on things forever.
His hand press flat against the wall behind him to push up, other hand wrapping around the handle of the gas can. From sitting there so long his muscles are stiff, and the pain leaks slowly over for a moment. He grits his teeth, pushing his short hair out of his face once he's standing. Also hasn't noticed a gnawing hunger in his stomach... there's time for that, later.
Chapped lips press together as he steps into the light, as she slowly lifts her head to look at him. Blood smeared down her face, from her nose, from her temple, from her mouth. He quells the urge to kiss it away, just watches her, waits for her to say something, anything. Last words, my dear.
Their eyes lock, his numb and dead and mismatched, hers raw and pink and angry. He kneels down in front of her, her legs fussing with the ties again, the ones that bind her ankles to the chair. The can touches against the floor with a raspy scratch, breaking the silence.
Gently, lovingly, he reaches up to touch her face, the back of his knuckles stroking her cheekbone. She's cold, she's so cold. He can fix that.
"Ich habe Pläne... große Pläne... Ich baue dir ein Haus. Jeder Stein ist eine Träne und du ziehst nie wieder aus..." he whispers. Her face twists and contorts, head turning away from his hand. But he doesn't care. He expects this from her. After all... he has made this decision. "Ja... ich baue ein Häuschen dir, hat keine Fenster keine Tür. Innen wird es dunkel sein- dringt überhaupt kein Licht hinein..."
A strand of hair falls out of place, hangs in her eyes. He tilts his head, his own bangs shifting of his forehead while he pushes the stray piece away, tucks it behind her ear. Her jaw clenches, she lifts her head away from him and looks up into the darkness, away. Just away from him. He sighs, and reaches, without looking, to the can, dragging it closer to him. The sound resonates, loud, and she twitches, yet makes no sound. He understands.
He leans forward, onto his knees, unscrewing the top of the petrol can without looking, feeling a ripple of something warm and sweet as the scent of it rises, heavy. He can taste it. "Ja..." he says, beginning to feel somewhat elated. "Ich schaffe dir ein Heim, und du sollst Tiel des Ganzen sein..."
The petrol isn't cold, feels sort of thick and thin at the same time when he dips his fingers into it, shuddering and closing his eyes, pulling his hand away from her face to touch his own, press into the skin of his own cheek, heat spreading through his chest and loins just thinking about it, the smell making him light headed. It's sweet. He knows it's sweet, and dips his hand in further, stirring it around idly before drawing back, letting it drip. He lifts his digits to his face, inhales the fumes, tastes it. Eyes close, smile shines through a little.
She holds her breath.
"Stein um Stein mauer ich dich ein... Stein um Stein..." her futile struggles act up again. This is what hysteria does. This is what love does to people. "Ich werde immer bei dir sein..."
Yes, that was the decision, that was the great plan. Put her away somewhere, put her away so that he didn't need to look, so that she would suffer for it. Someone had to, someone had to share that with him. Not to be alone, no. It was her fault. He was the vigilante; he always had been. The victim, the enigma. The vigilante.
She squirmed and cried when he touched her again, thumb soaked in gasoline, pressing it against her cheek, slowly rubbing it in. Started at her cheekbone, then down her jaw, thumb pressing against her bottom lip. It was chapped but still remained soft, like it usually was. Months since he'd last seen her but she still had that about her. He sighed, leaned forward to kiss her lightly, tasting fumes and blood, and... her.
"Ohne Kleider ohne Schuh siehst du mir dei der Arbeit zu mit den Füßen im Zement. Verschönerst du das Fundament. Draußen wird ein Garten sein..." his words were muffled by her skin, that close, but she could hear. "Und niemand hört dich schreien..."
Stein um Stein mauer ich dich ein. Stein um Stein. Ich werde immer bei dir sein...
She screamed. Her cry shot through the silence and made him shrink back, stand up. Enough was enough, he couldn't stand this anymore. Was going to do what he needed to do and then leave, let this distract become walled away where he couldn't see her anymore, where he didn't need to feel it. Cut it off at the root, put an end to the problem.
"Welch ein Klopfen welch ein Hämmern! Draußen fängt es an zu dämmern... Alle Nägel stehen stramm..." Grabs the can. Sprinkles the liquid over her. She gasps and screams as it soaks her hair, stings her wounds, sinks into her clothes. And he tosses it aside, feels like crying as well. But it's her fault. This is her fault, not yours, Kane.
Reaches into his pocket, curls his fingers on the cold metal of the Zippo. Snaps it open. She closes her eyes in fear, and he can only laugh. "...wenn ich sie in dein Leibholz Ramm..."
The flames burst up when he snaps the spark, drops it in her lap. Takes a step back to marvel, then another. Isn't bothered by the smell, the smoke. Crying already, what does the sting matter? Another step back, blinding, watching her shoulders convulse, her head thrown back and forth while the flames glide up her body, from her lap up around her breasts, her hair.
His back hits into the wall and he sits down again, takes his place once more.
She screams, more than screams. This is a death rattle, a death cry. More than that, more than anything. Never showed this type of passion while she was alive, saved it all for now.
That's what happens when you're in pain, when you can't see and you're not sure you want to, when you're burning. That's what he tells himself. He knows the feeling, too familiar. Watching her with a detachment because of it.
It was her fault. It was. He was a victim. He just wanted to make things right.
Her screaming slows, though the fire continues to rage, engulfing the ropes around her wrists, disfiguring the tattoo on her shoulder. She stops fighting it. She falls limp. The voice dies out.
And he wipes his eyes.
"Stein um Stein, mauer ich dich ein," he tells himself. "Stein um Stein... und keiner hrt dich schreien..."
Don't speak German? If you're nice maybe I'll email an English version. D