Decided to update this in the hopes of actually finishing it someday lol. My motivation is fickle and fleeting. Sorry about that…

Once upon a time, I locked my heart away. When you realized there was no key, You decided to pry it open. Now look at what you've done. You broke it. It's gone. All that remains is you… And I hate it.

The next morning, I am awake on my own.

I seldom wake up like this, and I realize that it feels strange. It's always "Young Master, it is morning." Always him, pulling the curtains apart so that the sunlight bathes my face, the brightness forcing me out of my slumber. Always the scent of tea, and the feel of his hands as he dresses me swiftly, and his deep voice filling my head as he explains the day's schedule.

Always.

But not now.

The sun has barely risen, as I can see no more than a dim glimmer peeking through the windows. There is no rich, herbal smell. There is no teasing voice, no capable hands… no Sebastian. No one.

I sit up, clutching my pillow (the one I will never admit to being unable to sleep without) and I feel overcome by a severe amount of resentment. Everything rushes back to me, all of last night, and I grit my teeth. I was weak in front of him. I was helpless. I was not a watchdog, but a lost pup seeking reassurance.

I begin punching the pillow and watching it yield to every blow. It molds to the shape of my fist again and again without protest. How could I be so stupid? How could I let him see that? How could I dishonor the strength of the Phantomhive name with such a pathetic display?

The pillow never answers. It merely sits, hunched in on itself. A misshapen creature with a crease for a frown and a strangely dejected appearance. I pull it back to my chest, smoothing it out and pressing my cheek to it as if in apology. Inanimate as it is, it isn't deserving of my little fit of rage. What is, is made of a guise of false human flesh, blood-luster eyes, and a smirk that makes a growl bubble in my throat.

I lay back, realizing that there is still a decent amount of time before I am supposed to be woken up. The soft ticking of the clock on my nightstand becomes pronounced, and I wish I could smash the obnoxious little thing and freeze time by doing so.

I don't want him to come. I don't want him to look at me. He'll be laughing at me on the inside. He'll be sweeping the length of me from head to toe with that preying gaze, and I'm sure that it will glow with a newfound superiority. It won't matter that I can tell him to do as I please. I have him in a cage wrought from the will of my commands, but even that is of no use. What good is a cage if the captive can slip through the bars?

My breathing is too fast. My chest feels too tight. I hug the pillow closely and bury my face against it. Sebastian is supposed to keep me safe from everything, but then… who will keep me safe from him…?

I roll over onto my stomach, grasping the sheets beneath my palms. My pillow has suffered enough, I think, and I'm sure I'd wind up breaking it if I have at it again. As my grip on the bedspread grows stronger, so does the strange churning feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I don't know who I'd prefer to throttle: him, or myself. As I wait for morning to come, I think for a brief second that both would be much more satisfying.

The light begins to peek through the curtains, lining their edges, setting them aglow as though some miraculous promise waits behind them. I get up and part them, and although it is no miracle, it is something of a spectacle: the sunrise. The colors of dawn paint themselves across the sky while the sun blazes beyond the horizon. Horizon… what a concept. A horizon is nothing more than a taunt. It can't be reached no matter how far you travel, because the horizon is always in front of you, waiting for you, never with you.

Never.

The door creaks open and I flinch slightly but remain still. I know who stands behind me.

"You're awake quite early, Young Master. Are you feeling well?"

"Fine."

"Are… you certain?"

And I know why he asks, and damn it, he can go right back to hell if he thinks that something like that could break me!

"I'm fine," I grit. "Breakfast."

"A little tea and milk with honey. I have an assortment of pastries you can choose from, warm with a little butter, Young Master."

"I want a scone." Is all I mutter, sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the tiny but intricate pattern of the teacup Sebastian gives me. The tea and milk is good, as expected; it's warm and smooth with that touch of sweetness from the honey. I nibble the scone next, but delicious as it is, I find my appetite to be absent and set it down after having a half.

"Lady Elizabeth was supposed to be visiting today, sir, but if you aren't of sorts then perhaps it'd be better to-"

"I believe you asked me if I was earlier. Furthermore, I believe I said I was fine, did I not?"

"You did. My apologies, Young Master." He bows, and at the moment I can't stand him. I can't stand what I see in his sanguine eyes as he stands erect, searching my gaze for… well, hell if I know what. What does he think he'll find, besides the proof that I own him?

He leaves for mere seconds before returning with my clothing. An ensemble of navy blue, no doubt to please Lizzy's preference for clothes that 'bring out my eyes'. What folly…

He pulls my nightshirt over my head and begins and for the first time I feel self-conscious. I realize that he's looking at me. I feel ridiculously exposed but remain composed as I step into my trousers. But when he touches my shoulder his hand lingers and I forget how to breathe.

"Young Master." His hand, a wisp of white, rests beneath my chin gently.

"Your pulse is wild," he says in a whisper, and I can't tell, I simply can't…

Is it hunger making his eyes look so vivid?

Or something else? Something else like… what?

"Ridiculous," I hiss at him defensively. "How on earth would you-"

"I can hear it. Faintly; the ears of a human hardly allow me to employ the full extent of my natural senses, but it is there. Also…" his explanation catches me off guard, my thoughts geared towards this unexpected revelation of his true anatomy, but he continues, "I can feel it."

The pristine white cloaking his fingers creeps lower. It lingers over my left breast, palm facing the skin but never touching against it. The irony of it, this distant closeness, makes my hair stand on end and my skin prickle.

Come closer.

Stay away.

Fill the distance.

Why can I not decide?

"Even without contact, I can feel it better than you yourself can," he says, and then his hand is there. Over the heart I shouldn't have, a touch that is impossibly human and warm. A lie.

Don't touch me.

"I can feel the rhythm perfectly. Even the most miniscule exertion reaches my fingers in a way that your body cannot fathom. The swell of the blood within your veins as well."

A lie. A lie that knows more about my wretched existence than I ever will.

Invasive. Inhuman. Irresistible.

And then the memory, feral- gripping, threatening, tearing my flesh asunder like ribbons-

Don't touch me!

My reaction is instant: the sound of flesh colliding, the silken skin of his cheek glowing an vivid, blistering red.

I've slapped him as hard as I can manage.

The look on Sebastian's face is questioning. His eyes are seething, and I have to do what I've trained myself to. I have to replace the initial fear with indifference and anger. But am I angry at him… or myself?

"You have no reason to touch me in such a manner!" My voice is weaker than it should be, pathetically breathless like the plea of a cornered animal.

"Forgive me, Young Master. I merely meant to demonstrate how I was capable of knowing the pace of your heartbeat, nothing more."

I scoff. "Refrain from demonstrations that I do not ask for. Have I made myself clear?"

He smiles.

Broken. Furious. Lovely.

"As clear as a midday sky, my Lord."

"Then finish your task, and make certain," I emphasize the words crudely, "not to disobey me. Unless you wish to nullify our little deal."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Young Master."

"I did not think you would."

He remains silent. My shirt is slipped onto my body, the collar straightened and buttons fastened with a display of dexterity that is nearly mesmerizing. Sebastian slips my arms into my peacoat, the few seconds it takes for my hands to emerge giving me the sensation of being trapped- embalmed in a cocoon of demonic make. Would it matter? I've already done that to myself. I'm already in his jaws, between his talons, lying in wait for the moment they snap. And then…

Then I'll be through.

Will he be happy?

The soft rush of fabric as he ties it around my collar sounds abrasive to my ears. I watch it form the bow- over and under, around, through.

So intricately twisted, and yet if I were to tug upon a single strand-

My fingers obey my thoughts absentmindedly and pull one end of the ribbon.

It would simply fall apart.

"Young Master?"

"It was uneven. Tie it again."

It is tighter this time. The bow doesn't feel like an ornament around my neck, but rather like a collar. A warning… or perhaps a promise. But then Sebastian startles me.

"There." He tugs the bow forward gently and its hold loosens. I release a breath and look into his eyes. What? What does he want from me now? I offered him everything, and he accepted. I have nothing left to give.

He claimed it all as I lay dying, a hand that pulled me from misery and then plunged me into despair.

So then why is he looking at me as though there's anything left?

All that remains… is him.

Sebastian is everything I have, and everything I wish to rid myself of.

Everything that I wish to cling to.

Salvation with damnation blazing at its core.

All I have is this creature, whose sinful voice puts me to sleep. Whose hands suffocate me sweetly the closer he comes, his touches a nightmare so fearsome that all of the others fade away and make him glow like the solace that I know he isn't. That I wish he was. Because that's it.

That's all.

When I scream, cry, and search for the exit to the wasteland of my memory, it is crimson and ink that will guide me.

Hold me.

Taint me.

Infuriate me.

Lie.

Give me everything, because one day, you'll have me…

And that's the day I'll be gone.

I ignore the strange flutter of my heart- painfully tight- as he presses each of my feet into a shoe.

"Is there anything else that you need, Young Master?"

Yes.

Everything.

But everything has become you.

I despise everything.

I hate you.

"Nothing."

He turns to leave, hands teasing against the doorway as he assures me, "I will announce Lady Elizabeth's arrival accordingly. Please make sure to look over the set of proposals that arrived for you yesterday. They are on the desk in the study, Young Master."

"Fine."

Give it back.

Fix me.

When I look at you, the heart that I no longer have comes back to life.

Endless agony.

Beating, beating, beating…

Why is it that I never want it to end?