FINGERTIPS

hi. Enjoy.

When he was half awake, half dreaming and half dead, he could feel the fingers. He heard nothing when he was awake. Absolutely nothing. But when he was sleepy and tired, dozing and drowsy, that was when it talked to him. Because it's powers were stronger when he was tired.

The fingers ran through his hair in a way that was oddly familiar. And he would smile softly at the touch. though, in the day he would forget it until he felt it again that night.

And as his powers as a shinigami grew, the quieter that it got. He didn't mind.

He didn't like feeling like he was crazy after all.

Soon, he'd forgotten all about it. every touch and broken whisper. It often sounded like it was in pain. But he payed it no mind, for now it was gone.

There was an absolute silence, even when he was dreaming, even in the half light when he smiled at those little touches. There was nothing. But he still felt something creep on him. He still felt something fill his soul up on the inside.

But it was silent, so he didn't care. Even though he felt like the inside of his brain was being raped.

Power flowed from him at all times, and he forgot because he had more important things to do. He had people to save.

He was normal for about two months, until Rukia tried to run back to soul society. He'd fought as he always had.

And when he'd felt like he was dying like there was no hope, he felt it. Rushing up and giving him strength. "Stupid Alice King. Nev...never could..f-fight with...out m-me..." the voice was a little clearer. The feeling that consumed him, the pain and pleasure that came with having your soul raped from the outside. It felt damn good.

Something inside him cracked, burst and screamed. There was a smile on his lips, it wasn't his. But damned if he cared. No it felt too...indescribable "I don't really get it but..." the power flowing through his veins intensified, sending pleasurable crashes through his brain. "I definitely feel good!"

"Sw...sweet al..ice...King...d-don't you kn..ow it was me?" thin fingers combed through his hair. But that gentle touch was lost in the power that poured into him like a waterfall into a canyon. It rushed and grabbed.

Until he was defeated, and his power failed him. The voice was gone, the power was gone, the pain was engulfing him, and that itching feeling of his soul being raped with words and feelings stuck to him.

It started raining. He lost his sense of mind. Only words came to his mind. And a little song that he used to sing when he was little. It's raining it's pouring. The old man is snoring. Went to bed and bumped his head... but the song was forced out of his head, replaced by something a little darker.

If only just a little.

"It's...r-raining, it's pouring...Alic..e Kin..g is mourning... he went to bed, I killed him dead...he'll...n-never get u-up in the morning!"

He was being crushed and he didn't even understand how.

OWARI

god. Killing myself trying to read through a looking glass... it's not so bad. I get it... it think. But that said, there are reasons why I like Lewis Carroll. Heh heh heh. Please review. God my head hurts...