Author's Note: Aside from not writing Animorphs, I did not write any of the songs used in this piece.
In a Skull
Two and a half days. Two and a half days since the gas. I have no idea where the others are, whether they can't find me, or they abandoned me, or they died too. So for two and a half days, I have been here, nothing but me, my own personal fallout shelter, and what is left of her head. Her hair is gone, her eyes are gone, her flesh and bones and blood and pulse are all blasted apart from the impact of the gas and the rocks and the Andalite scum's Taxxon teeth. The ears are mangled, blocking my way out. Unless someone comes and gets me, this is where I die.
That is not to say that I am alone. Oh no, even in death, I am in her, part of her. I am pushed flat against the inside of her newly metallic skull, trying to avoid the death and decomposition that lies just centimeters away. And even though I am not connected into the dying tissue, the memories of her stay firmly rooted in my mind. I flick through everything I have of her, images and conversations and sounds. The first notes of the fugue mesh with left-over strands of teenage anthems, music from the mouths of vapid adults into the ears of vapid teens.
I feel like I've been locked up tight for a century of lonely nights.
But we are two worlds apart. Can't reach to your heart.
Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know that something wasn't right here?
Oh, you knew, you always knew, bitch. You lowered yourself down, you swam in the dark waters, and you let bugs into your head, all so that you could be pretty. And you were. You were gorgeous. I loved your eyes, not to look out into the world, but to look into the mirror and take in every bit of your loveliness. My loveliness. I did not want to shut out a moment of it. They kept their promises, strapped us down, and asked if I wanted anesthesia. Were they mad? I had spent a life in a pool, why would I ever want to be numb again? I took it all in, you took it all in, awake the whole time, and we clung to each other through the beautiful pain and grasped onto the knowledge that it was all worth it. Because we would be lovely. So lovely.
I know it's not mine but I'll see if I can use it for the weekend or a one-night stand.
My loneliness is killing me.
No it's not. Starvation is. I still have you, I have always had you. From the first days we felt it, felt the melding. I wanted the pretty. You wanted the power. And I have to say, I got some tips from you. You were a teenage girl, who could possibly know better how to break someone? Do you hear that, Visser? You try to smash, but she and I, we know how to break. We know how to break people, in ways they will never come back from. The Andalite is still broken. If we failed, then why is he still cracked? Why is he still so very damaged? Spend a day in a high school; then you can talk to me about proper torture techniques.
Show me how you want it to be. Tell me, baby, 'cause I need to know now what we've got.
I outgrew you. You were a wonderful mind to lavish in, but I needed to be more, I needed to have control, I needed to be fully Yeerk, at least for a time. I am sorry; the time for beauty had passed. But I could never be cruel, no, not to you. I ripped open your head, packed down your skull with protection, put a divider between me and you, but I never destroyed your face. I spent hours looking in the mirror, for you, for me, yes, but for you, giving you the gift of yourself. You truly were a gift. The last thing I heard with your ears was your laugh, and I will hold on to that until my last moment, however close or far that may be.
She's touch, smell, sight, taste and sound.
At least we will be together until the end. The fugue is rising; can you hear it? What a way to go. On the remains of my final battle field, in a coffin of my own design, lying so close to your pretty pretty pretty brain.