Note: Angst

Straitjacket fetish

She was half-dead and broken.
She thought she was unwanted,
she believed it even before they made a final decision
so she had left earlier right after Sephiroth was defeated.

And when he had finally found her, she was battered and bruised;
wounds that clotted black with blood, old wounds reopened,
her eyes were empty and faraway. Vincent almost thought
she had died then, lest for her heavy breathing that had a wheeze
each time she took a breath. Her pipe had broken and it was letting
go air every time she breathed. It was as though she willed herself – no,
she was determined to kill herself in battle to make it look like a fucked up
accident. She was definitely looking for stronger monsters to seek her own death.

"WHY YOU STUPID THINGS CAN'T BE ANY STRONGER?"
she cried amidst the carnage she had done, falling to her knees.

She had hidden well for that was what ninjas did. They hide.
But Vincent was no ordinary man either; he tracked her down
by hook or by crook.

She replayed Aeris' death over and over in her head.
Had she truly been smiling or had she been crying?
Was she frowning or writhing in pain? Was death painful?
She had forgotten all the details, what's left of her memories
were so fogged and tainted with added pieces of imagination,
she did not commit to reality anymore.


we do not know the evil that seeks our lips
we half beasts know no prayer
worthy enough for God Almighty to relief our bloodshed
alas, we come crawling in the night
prey do us justice, we're turning over and under

She was strapped in a straitjacket with means to prevent her
from hurting herself. The straitjacket was for her to stop cutting
her fingers, slitting her wrists for random boredom. It was to stop
her from feeling so dead and imagine herself to be a mad person
for the acknowledgement that she was mad would mean that she
knew something about herself. It was to stop herself from feeling so
hollow and not even know who the person she was, seeking vacuum
out of air itself.

She had tugged her shoulders, arms, hands for minutes, hours, days
and soon months. Tossed and turned till she remained quiet.

Slumped in the corner of the room, she did not respond when
the door creaked to reveal Mister Valentine.

"Yuffie, it's time to eat." He should have known better she would not respond.

He walked towards her in that little corner where she half-sat and half-laid.
There were bruises on her thighs, her anger physically shown how she had
knocked into the walls and corners on purpose.

"Yuffie." He made a move to carry her, but she suddenly stood up on her
own with her ninja agility and faced him, body to body. He had forgotten how
minute she was, how quick she could be if she wanted to. Yet her eyes were
hollow as they stared at each other, as though in her little game.

She then gave a sick smile and asked almost sweetly if not for the fact it was
ironic and somewhat sarcastic, "You won't leave me alone, would you?"
He watched her eyes, for a moment there; they held this defiant attitude as
though challenging him.

As he gave a nod, she closed her eyes, tiptoed and sniffed him. Next, she
traced the curve of his jaw with the tip of her tongue. She licked it hard,
tantalizing him. He then realized she did not care for answers anymore.
She did not want to know about anything anymore. She did not care whether
the nod signified that he would stay or he would go.

He stood there as she ravished him, took him in to detail. She bit his ear gently,
then she nibbled. She nibbled all the way down to his neck to his shoulder then
proceeded to his collarbone where she pushed his black ribbed shirt's neckline
down, where she tried to nib his nipple when he pushed her down to the ground
and did the same, only rougher.

With no intention to untie her binds, his hands slipped underneath the straitjacket
to feel skin. Paper-thin and silk, cuts and tears.


the living undead they call us for we're like beasts with no right minds
we kill to savage on, we kill for the sake of blood
we kill to release ourselves from the knowledge we're bleeding
we walk like the undead, we walk like such monsters raving
craving more bleeding, it's a sweetness to the soul
a sadistic relief for the undead, cold upon cold.

He slid her briefs and thrust, over and over again till she screamed and she moaned,
till blood was drawn as she bit his shoulder for comfort and in pain. Such sweet noise
to the ears, such sweet taste to thy lips, honey blood suckle sweet. For she was
hand-bound by straitjacket and body-bound by his weight. He thrust forcefully, knowing
she would have liked it, knowing he would have done it anyway.


And we, like beasts show no mercy
(for it's you who feel the pain,
loud and clear, you scream our names)
we, like beasts have no shame
(for shame drags our hearts across concrete floor
we hide our flaws with blood and gore)

For he too, was broken.And infinity was a long way to go.

Author: Proses with are copyrighted to me, Joyce Poh Jiali.
Do comment and credit if you are using them.
And thank you for all the reviews, do keep them coming in :)
Hi :) to Sor Fuujin. Hope all of you readers liked this piece, personally I like it myself.
Tried something different this time, perhaps you could tell me your ideas.