Disclaimer: I don't own it. Any of it.
This is what happens when the black plot bunnies, that I was keeping locked in the closet got out by accident. Sorry about the depressing drivel but... they were black. Thanks to my beta.
Anyway, give it a go.
I Am No One
By Chaimera.
Anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)…
It was his voice inside her head that kept her sane. Perhaps, the very presence of that voice was evidence of her lack of sanity. It spoke softly to her, telling her it wouldn't be long now, one way or the other. That he loved her. Sometimes, it left her alone, when the pain was too much. When the kicking and punching was relentless. She liked to think she just couldn't hear him. That he was still there.
She couldn't hear him now, as the punches and kicks and blows rained down from her captors.
She could barely recount how long she had been here. A week? Three weeks? Three years? It made no difference now. It was always the same. They'd beat her until she was on the edge of the darkness. It was a place she knew well now. That jagged cliff at the edge of the void. There were times she wished they'd just let her fall in. Into the quiet and darkness. But no. They'd bring her back. Make her healthy, just to tear it all away again. It seemed endless. It was only his voice, at nights, in the darkness and cold that kept her hoping. He would come.
She yelled in pain, her voice raw, as another kick broke another rib. She could hear the sickening crack.
Soon they would get bored of her. Leave her to fall.
Her tormentor asked her the questions. The same questions they had been asking her since she had first been captured.
"Who are you?"
"I am no one." She smiled to herself, feeling the blood caked on her face crack.
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all…
Another kick. In a while, they would put her back in her cell, where he would speak to her softly. Comforting her. Sometimes, she could almost feel his arms around her. Mostly he spoke small nothings to her, keeping her alive but sometimes he recited the poem. She had found it in the library shortly after they had moved from being 'just friends' to 'just lovers'. She had showed it to him, telling him it reminded her of them. Well, most of it anyway. The end was sad.
Another punch.
"Who is the man with you?"
She laughed softly to herself, her voice raw. "He's anyone."
"Where is he?"
"Ahh, the question is 'when' is he?"
autumn winter spring summer
that noone loved him more by more…
When she slept at night. Those two or three precious hours that she was in her cell, the memories came back. Their first kiss, their first night together, the first time she had told him she loved him. That was her favourite. He had been so happy. It had been, well, it had been fantastic. The voice of course, said it was corny. That was when she didn't pay attention to him.
When by now and leaf by tree
She laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by now and stir by still
anyone's any was to her
It was quiet again now, as she was dragged down the hall towards the med lab of her prison. The voice was back, speaking in hushed tones to her. Always keeping her sane. Helping her not to scream out loud when they pushed her harder and harder. Finally they reached the small white room. She had always hated hospitals, ever since she was little. All white and clean and stark, no life, no voice.
The nurse sighed as she was pushed roughly onto the exam table with a harsh bark to 'clean her up again'.
"Why don't you just tell them who you are?"
She laughed again. "See, that's the thing. I really am no one."
The nurse smiled down at her softly. This was the answer she always got.
"And your friend?"
"Oh, he's no one too."
"I though he was anyone."
"Only to me." She grabbed the nurses arm tightly. "He'll come for me you know."
The nurse nodded. "I'm sure he will."
The nurse was nice. If only she wouldn't fix her up and send her back to them. That's what she would think, but then he would start speaking again, more harshly. Telling her she shouldn't think like that. So she didn't as she was dragged back along the corridor and thrown into the small black room where she would sleep and dream and hope.
One day anyone died I guess(and noone stooped to kiss his face)…
She smiled as he spoke those sad lines and stared up at the tiny grate in the wall, watching the red moon rise in a velvety black sky. She had always said the ending wasn't like them, except now it was, maybe. Only the roles would be reversed and he would kiss her face for the last time. Unless he came. I will come said the voice and she closed her eyes.
Back in the small white room the nurse, with the soft smile and sad heart, began to clean the blood off the shining exam table when she heard the door open. She looked up and there was a man there. Not one she recognised. He was tall, with dark hair and the clearest of blue eyes that were a storm. That storm sacred her. It was the kind that could sweep you away into nothingness if you weren't careful. His face was set and the storm in his eyes increased as his gaze swept over the bloodied table. He reached into his worn leather jacket and pulled out a wallet. He showed her a card that identified him as a government official. When he spoke, with a strange accent, his voice was black.
"I'm looking for the prisoner that came last week. A girl. Where is she?"
End
I told you. Black as night they were, raiding carrot stores and all sorts of trouble. Sorry if the formatting gets a little funky. Upload and preview is screwing with me big time. I tired to fix it.
Review Please.