Author's Notes: The cover of this fic was made by Girlygo2 on Twitter, so go and send her some support.
Tired old wood sits beneath her, the ever present melody of a music box fills the room only to fade away as everything comes to light. It's a new day, but Six knows it's her last.
Six crawls from her safe space into the empty room. Her surroundings are familiar, stained with memories of fear and anger. Buckled with the weight of failure, Six collapses to her knees and falls to the floor. The Hunter is persistent, even if death lays in his path.
Six looks at the music box in front of her. It sits silently, waiting for use. After everything Six has been through, she's grown tired of cranking it.
Really, she's tired of everything. The running, the puzzles, the deaths, she's exhausted. Only now has the exhaustion become clear to her.
Well, that's a lie. It's not just the exhaustion. It's everything. Every gift, every lie, every lonely night, every stupid explanation, everything. Like an ocean wave crashing on an empty beach, every little memory comes through in paralyzing waves.
It's hollowing.
Six can't help but imagine Mono. How many times has he lived this nightmare?
Six looked at the barricade. Soon Mono will arrive. He will choose her fate when that moment comes.
Six frowns. That won't happen.
Six raises her head as wood chips fly into the empty room. Mono drops his hatchet and walks towards Six slowly, standing idle once he's close enough. He looks at Six's hiding place with an almost alien stare. Anger? Hate? Confusion? Understanding? Under that bag, it's all the same.
Six crawls slowly forward, mimicking the same song and dance she's done ages before. Mono crouches down, offering his hand, letting his guard down. As Six's frame is revealed in the faint light above, Mono notices Six's scowl. The same expression he saw mere moments before his death.
Some things never change.
Six leaps forward, pinning Mono to the ground. Before he can push her off Six wraps her hands around his neck. And with that, Six begins to squeeze.
Mono begins to panic as reality sets in. He flails and starts to hit Six wherever he can. Even with his stupid bag on, the light from above allows his eyes to be shown. His pupils dilate as Six squeezes harder. Surprisingly, through the bag, Six notices Mono's eyes. She sees all the darkness that fills them. Only a faint drop of brown gives the illusion of Mono truly being human; Six doesn't see a human under her hands.
As Mono keeps fighting for his life, Six is reminded of the campfire. The barrage of fists, the slow death. The thought only makes her grip tighten. Mono tries to fight back, his pitiful pushes and claustrophobic cries prove his fighting spirit. But hope is a fickle thing.
Six grits her teeth as red rage bleeds into her hands, infecting Mono's lips with a growing blue. She remembers the pain of every death, remembers the hatchet that came down on her head. It makes Six lift Mono's head and slam it.
The air surrounding the two begins to boil. Six's greedy lungs take the air Mono so desperately needs to survive. The red rage from Six's hands bleeds to her face, spreading to her eyes as everything turns hazy. Mono's voice croaks as he desperately tries to breathe, each little effort echoed into Six.
Mono's efforts diminish as his body gives out. His hands claw at his neck, desperate for a single breath. Six's hands begin to quiver as the strong façade that chokes Mono begins to fall apart. As Mono's voice hushes to a hollowing silence, the music box keeps churning, playing its hollow tune. Through the empty bag, a single thing remains. A single, cold, terrified eye that digs holes into the soul, saying a million things Mono could never speak. The eye watches Six, judging her and her every move.
As the room returns to a familiar emptiness, Six falls forward, gasping for air. A loud pounding echoes in her head, a feeling she's almost learned to tolerate. Almost.
Deep in her mind, muted by the pounding, a voice speaks to Six. It yells as hard as it can, demanding an answer for why Mono is gone.
Six rolls over, getting as far as possible from Mono's body. She looks to the ceiling, heaving and panting. Six's back aches as her hands blaze with a pain she's rarely ever felt. While the ceiling fills her vision, something stains Six's eyes. There's a feeling, a terrible sensation of someone watching. A unique guilt sags on Six's poor soul, making her sink deeper and deeper into the floor.
Six hates it.
Six runs up the basement stairs, hitting the same crooked steps as every other time. There's something almost comforting about how tired the stairs sound. Six leaves the basement, walking calmly down the hall. She considers running, but that unique guilt drags her to a snail's pace.
A familiar hunger sparks in Six. It's faint, but it will grow. The smell of rotting meats lures Six to the kitchen, the false promise of something better lurking within. The kitchen is nothing more than a collection of molding foods and nasty smells, all assaulting to the senses. Six gags as she enters the kitchen, immediately choosing to leave and never enter it again.
Six looks towards the empty hallway. The way forward can only be achieved with Mono's help. She's stuck.
Six slinks back to the basement, guilt invading her every step. The steps creak with a stronger, almost mournful sound. Once at the bottom, Six looks back at her temporary home.
He's there. Just laying there. Not doing anything. No running, no hand holding, no soft calling.
Six remembers all the bad. But, as she looks at Mono, she remembers the good.
Then the regret returns.
Like a gunshot ringing throughout an empty forest, the voice from before returns and demands an answer. Only, this time, it uses a different technique to get an answer.
Six hunches over as her stomach growls for food. Ever since she managed to get on that ship, her hunger has become a horrible thing; she never escaped alive. While rats and old pieces of meat suffice, there's nothing edible in the Hunter's cabin.
The music box churns its old song, luring Six back into her prison. It blurs her mind, making any rational thinking harder with the gut wrenching hunger. As Six trudges forward, she finds something to eat.
She's done this before. She can taste the faint metal, feel the ecstasy of fresh blood, she could almost imagine the scene. It won't be the last time she does it. But she remembers too much. Every little moment, every little feeling, it's all fresh in her mind. The high is never worth the low.
Six groans as another wave of hunger knocks her to the floor. It won't go away unless she eats. It'll destroy her from the inside out before it quells.
Six closes her eyes as her mind is filled with an indescribable hunger. She grabs the nearest piece of flesh and pulls it to her mouth.
It's not him. It's just meat. There's no reason to feel guilt.
Yet, as her teeth sink into the flesh, as warm blood begins to spill, so do the tears.
Everything is swept in a haze of heat and music as Six feeds. The music box automatically sings, allowing Six to focus on something that isn't her meal. It's almost comforting. Almost.
That unique guilt from before churns and burns, hurting Six with each gulp of meat. It yells at Six, berating her for trying to survive. In a way, that guilt is right. Six can't help but feel disgust with each gulp of meat. What's the point of survival when the price for living can never be paid?
Six bites down on more meat, barely quelled by the meal. But as she rips the skin, Six screams.
She bit her own arm.
She ripped her own skin.
She's eating herself.
Barely satisfied, Six crawls away from her meal. Her fingers drip with blood, staining the old wood. It never forgets, never forgives.
Six curls into a ball, finding some warmth. She cries as the music box allows everything to fade away.
If this is a nightmare, Six is ready to wake up.
Tired old wood sits beneath her, the ever present humming of insects fill the room as everything comes to light. It's a new day, but Six knows it's her last.
Six climbs to her feet as the smell begins to sink in. Her surroundings are familiar, yet terribly different. Everything is stained with blood, soaked with the smell of rotting flesh, filled with memories of fear and anger. Six almost vomits as her eyes fixate on Mono's body. Dried blood, exposed bones, bountiful buzzards, rotting skin, pugnant stank.
Six runs out of the room as all the meat she ate leaves her body. As she vomits, more and more guilt fills her mind.
Six hazily stumbles around the basement, struggling to stand. She can't stand to stay in the basement, she can't stay near Mono's body. So she stumbles and groans, walking towards the stairs.
But it's too late.
A new wave of hunger hits Six as she barely takes the first step. She doubles over and grabs her stomach. Her head almost hits the stairs as the pain comes in a stronger wave. Six grits her teeth, deafening the loud grumbling from her stomach.
Six stumbles backwards as she hazily looks around. She can barely tell left from right, up from down. All she can do is march in the direction that her music box plays. Her meal is there, her salvation rests there.
Six stumbles into the empty room as her hunger knocks her to the ground. The last thing she wants to do is eat, but there's no other choice. Six finds the meat and begins to feed.
But it's spoiled. It tastes cold and dead.
Six spits out the meat as her hunger demands more. She's desperate, too desperate. Six turns to her arm and chomps down.
Blinding, burning pain. As the skin comes off, blood begins to flow. It's hollowing.
The meat isn't enough, but six can't keep eating herself. All she can do is fall to the ground and cry. Cry and yell as her hunger eats her from the inside out.
All she can do is cling to Mono, hugging his cold body as her body succumbs to pain. Whatever strength she has she uses it to hold Mono, holding some warmth. But he's cold, so very cold.
Six's breaths become slower and slower as her body becomes colder and colder. Her eyes shut as music fills the room. All Six can feel is Mono, all she wants is his comfort.
If this is a nightmare, Six is ready to wake up.
Tired old wood sits beneath her, the ever present melody of a music box fills the room only to fade away as everything comes to light. It's a new day, but Six knows it's her last.
Six jolts awake as everything comes back to her. She crawls from her safe space into the empty room, looking at the music box in front of her. It's the only thing that lays in the room. No more body, no more blood, nothing. Only the music box remains.
It sits silently, waiting for use. It's always waiting, like a ticking time bomb, ready to ruin everything at a moments notice. Its hollow tune fills the empty room, reminiscing on all the bad times.
Six hates it.
Six grabs the crank of the music box and pulls, distorting the tune into something unrecognizable. The music box shouts and cries, pleading to Six in hopes of playing one last tune. But to Six, it's nothing but white noise.
With a heavy heave, the crank separates from the music box. The room returns to an almost foreign silence, filled with only sounds of breathing. What lays in front of Six is nothing more than a hunk of metal.
It's a piece of junk. Always has been, always will be.
Six raises her head as wood chips fly into the empty room. Mono drops his hatchet and walks towards Six slowly, offering his hand once he's close enough. He believes she won't accept it, yet, he tries anyway. Mono looks at Six with an undefined glare. Anger? Hate? Confusion? Understanding? Under that bag, it's all the same.
Six crawls forward, reaching for his hand. There's uncertainty in her body, fear in her eyes. Mono can see it. He can feel the air between them thicken like mud. They've done this same song and dance for so long, it feels like nothing will truly change.
Then their hands meet.
Both in disbelief, Mono and Six freeze. The tips of their fingers graze each other, on the edge of change. Six's eyes fixate on their contact. Has she ever accepted his offer? All Six can remember is running. Always running. Never once has she taken his hand.
Six's hand slowly recoils, ready to slap the boy away. It would be easy, Mono always falls over.
Only a single finger connects the two. Six prepares to slap Mono away.
But she looks up. She notices Mono's eyes.
Black, with a single drop of brown. There's nothing normal about his eyes. He looks like a monster.
But does that really matter? Six is a monster too.
Slowly, but surely, Six gives in. Her hand glides forward, resting on Mono's palm. She glances to the ground, allowing shadows to tell the story.
Mono carefully accepts Six, closing his hand on hers. He remains almost perfectly still, keeping his eyes on Six and her reactions.
In a blink of an eye, Six is pulled forward.
Mono wraps his arms around Six as the barrier between them is broken. He sighs, given some peace.
Six gasps as Mono takes her in. But as he sighs, Six follows suit. She finally breathes a breath of fresh air as her arms wrap around Mono's back.
It's a new day.