Into Pain's Waiting Embrace
Summary: One-shot Sometimes it's the stupidest things that drive you to the pain. One-sided Naminé x Sora
Prompt #45: Embrace
Warning: Self-injury! And a bit of gruesomeness… I think.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. If you thought I did you are an idiot.
Sometimes it's the stupidest things that drive you to the pain.
She was a wreck ever since he left. She knew it was her fault; her fault that she got herself mixed up in his mess. It was her fault that she gave him the memories and then made him forget. It was her fault she fell in love with him. Ever since she let him go she turned into a sobbing mess. That was all she was now.
She would fill her days planning; revenge was all she had left. She would get back at them all for using her as another pawn in their twisted games. She would get her revenge, because she hated that they turned her into this. It may have been her fault but she would get her revenge because they made her do it. She knows she should have fought back- refused at least once. She was just too weak. She was always too weak.
She didn't want to be weak any longer. So she spent her days planning her revenge just to show them she was strong and she would have the last laugh.
She spent her days planning her revenge so she wouldn't have time to remember him. That was the real reason.
She hated it all, what they made her do and who she had become. She didn't want to be so weak. Every single night she would sob her heart out, screaming obscenities at the white walls that surrounded her. Her cage.
Every night she would wish she were somewhere else. She would shout it to the ceiling like some God would take mercy on her tortured soul and grant her futile wishes. Then she would cry, curse everyone and everything, and just wish to forget. She hated having the knowledge that no one anywhere could or would grant her wishes.
She hated it because all she wanted to do is let him go for good.
Then, once she collapsed to the floor, letting soundless sobs wrack her skeletal frame she would surrender to the monster inside. Her mind would cloud with her emotional pain and she would kick and scream as her fists flew in a flurry of movement. Blow upon blow would rain onto her porcelain skin, marring its pale beauty. The next day hideous bruises, vivid and revolting, would decorate where her fists fell upon her thighs.
In her pain-filled rage she would strike out at walls, taking pleasure in the resulting bangs as flesh met plaster. Her arms would be bruised the next day. Drawing would be painful because her wrist would display a myriad of blue-tinted discolorations. Every time she would lower her hand to the paper she would bite back a yelp as her tender, stained skin met the rough paper of her sketchbook. She would draw on though, painting a likeliness of him with a simple pencil or a pack of pastels. Every page was soon decorated with his face, staring up at her. But his face was always blank, always emotionless. Just like what she felt when she drew him. Detached.
After the striking out at walls would come the tearing of skin. Fingernails would dig into pale stretches of tender flesh, leaving faint lines and trails of blood when she penetrated the skin far enough. Her skin would sting where unpainted nails would drag across her soft flesh but by then she would be too numb to feel it. By then all she knew was that she was being punished for being so stupid; so foolish. And she would surrender to it. Surrender to her inner monster. She would let herself lash out upon her own body. She needed to be punished and she was the only one around who could do it now.
After all the pain, all the torment she would inflict upon herself she would stagger to a balcony and she would stand in the freezing cold alone. She felt so numb that the biting cold had no effect now. It froze the blood adorning her body but by then she had forgotten it was there.
Standing outside, alone, she would scream herself hoarse, cursing him because it was entirely his fault. He made her this way; he made her fall in love with him. It was his fault and his fault alone. She would collapse onto the icy planks of wood beneath herself, body shaking and soul yearning to cry tears she couldn't shed. She would scream and curse and wail into the night. Her lonely howls would echo around the barren landscape, returning to haunt her lonesome existence. Pale hands would clutch at her equally pale hair, pulling harshly, ripping it from a tender scalp. Then she would turn away, disappearing back into the room that was her life. Her cage.
When she would finally be ready to drop off into a fitful sleep she would hang her head in shame. Guilt for blaming him, such a perfectly flawed masterpiece, for her pain would wash over her, making her want to hurl in disgust. She was disgusted at herself, the horrible, cruel person she was. They were right when they called her a monster. That's all she ever was. In the end she knew it was her fault and her fault alone that she was this way. She was all to blame.
The next day she would awake with bags under her dull, ever-so weary eyes; the hideous discolorations and the already fading scratches would mar her skin's pale perfection. Her self-mutilation would shine in the light of dawn and all she could do was smile sadly for she knew she deserved this. That was her routine, spending days planning revenge, spending nights beating herself, crying and drawing the perfection of him.
She would not try to end this destructive routine. She had become addicted to the pain. She liked poking her bruises because the pain let her know she was alive. She liked hurting herself because then she knew she would be too tired to think of him until the next night. She would die feeling alive; she would die to forget him. It was a destructive path but it was the one she chose.
So the next night she would collapse on the floor in tears. Before the pain would come she would think of him, miss him, remember him and just cry. Before the pain she would lose herself in her despair. When the pain would come she would wholeheartedly welcome it but until then she would cry and just wish for things she could not have.
She wants someone to be there. Someone who will wrap a pair of strong arms around her and refuse to let go. She wants someone to smooth her hair as she cries, kissing the back of her head, and whispering I'm here. That's all she really wants. She just wants him to come back to her, remember her. Protect her.
Sometimes it's the stupidest things that drive you to the pain. Like being alone.
Wow. I never really do self-injury fics but... yeah. I have done things like this though (but notso extreme). There are those days when like really sucks and everything you wants seems out of reach. When you break down in tears you find yourself just fitting your legs in anger at your own helplessness... And I've got a bad temper so when I get seriously pissed I lash out at walls (witch is a lot better than someone's face).
I hope you liked this and sorry for all the angsty stuffa! Review...please?
-Frozen-Passion-