Chapter Thirteen

"Come on," she said, standing. "I have to take you to Aizen now."

"Why?" I moved the blanket and tossed my legs down over the side of the couch, setting my feet firmly on the floor. My body was shaking from the relapse I had gone into, every nerve craving for the medication that had become part of my daily routine.

"Orders," was her short reply. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, because "orders" always seemed to be the answer.

Good little soldiers in an army for a man who wants to be God.

I held my head a little higher as I stood, nerves focused on ignoring the voice for as long as I could manage it. Should things begin to go downhill for me, at least I knew that Usagi was as capable of incapacitating me as Grimmjow was—even if he didn't know why I snapped and couldn't seem to recall the incident.

Silently, I followed Usagi out of my room.

The throne room—as Usagi called it on our walk there; she was much more personable than Grimmjow was, even when we were on our way to see Aizen—was just as white and cold and echo-y as it had been on my other visits. This time, though, I had Usagi at my back; because of that, I felt much more confident as I walked in and towards Aizen, who sat in his little throne looking like he was asleep.

Why did he always look like he was asleep? It was almost like he was bored with everything that was happening and like he didn't need to be alert to any of the things that were going on around him. With his eyes closed all of the time, it would be easy for anyone to sneak up behind him and do him in.

Which is exactly what I would do if I was capable of such atrocities while fully conscious of myself.

You're weak. You could never do such a thing.

Every time the voice spoke in it's singular, non-contradicting form, it seared my mind with white-hot pain. It was like a flash migraine, there and gone all in the same instant.

I stopped walking when I reached dead center of the throne room, just as I had the few times before. My hands were shoved into the pockets of the white shorts I wore, my messenger bag hooked over one of my shoulders, the strap lying across my chest.

Usagi had ceased walking after me just a few feet inside of the towering double doors.

"Kaori." Though he looked to be asleep, Aizen's voice held no trace of rest. "How's your little problem doing?"

I still wasn't sure how he knew about my schizophrenia, let alone how he knew so much about it; a small knot began working itself into the pit of my stomach.

"Terrible, if you absolutely must know. I figure you do, since you ask me every single time I stand here. I have a bruise on my tummy because of it, too, thank you very much." It had been a quick decision to give up on my lies to Aizen—they hadn't really gotten me anywhere before, except for sent back to my room, so what could the truth possibly do to me? "And, I ran out of medication about two days ago? I don't know; time is so difficult to distinguish here."

You're a blathering idiot.

Kill him.

The voice had split again, sending a barely suppressed shiver up my spine.

"Otherwise, the problem is great! Endless, meaningless chatter that makes my teeth grind and my skull vibrate, but the problem is fine. It's great." I was rambling, but it seemed like I couldn't get my mouth to stop quite yet. "I mean, you know, random blackouts, searing headaches and the whole trembling like I'm some kind of chihuahua that needs to pee aside."

"What does this voice of yours talk about?" There was no interest in Aizen's voice, but at some point during my ramblings he had shifted in his throne, which lead me to the conclusion that he either found something that I said somewhat interesting and relevant, or whatever material the chair was made out of was quite uncomfortable.

"Which one?" I shot back quickly.

Even from halfway across the room, I saw his eyes snap open.

Got'cha. Okay. So he didn't know as much as he claimed, even though the double voice was a new development even for myself. But he had thought that there was only one, which meant that he did somewhat understand how bizarre my schizophrenia was.

There was a pregnant silence in which I was not granted an answer. Growing bolder as the time silence stretched out, I asked again, "Which voice do you mean?"

He was staring at me, eyes somewhat vacant—at least, that's what they looked like from the distance between us. For all I knew, he was likely calculating what I would do next, or even what his next move would be, almost like a game of chess. But had this been a game of chess, his time would have ran out for his next move already.

When I received no reply once again, I turned around and began to walk towards the doors that led into the throne room, removing my hand from my pocket and tightening the strap of my messenger bag out of habit. Sure, Aizen seemed plenty intimidating—in fact, he was the reason I was in Hueco Mundo in the first place—but he had kept me alive for however long I had been there, even though I had been admittedly difficult.

I made it down three hallways before I got hopelessly lost; Usagi had stayed behind in the throne room, the look on her face indicating the shock she felt at my words. I had expected her to follow me, but that hadn't been the case.

You're lostlostlostlostlostlost.

You're going to die here.

I was determined not to die in Hueco Mundo; no matter what it took, I promised myself that I was going to get home to Mizuri and my mother, and no one would stop me.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, fucking whoa." A hand grabbed me by the hood and yanked me up off of my feet, startling to the point where I screamed. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Okay, so maybe someone might stop me. Namely, Grimmjow.

"Not sure," I answered, my body slowly rotating in a circle. It was disconcerting to be held up in the air by nothing but a piece of fabric that could rip and send me to the ground on my bottom at any second. "My room, I think. It's so hard to navigate this place, you know?"

By the time I had rotated enough to actually gain a visual of him, the collar of my jacket was digging into the base of my throat. He was frowning at me, and I smiled sheepishly even though my stomach was doing flips from having my feet dangling a good foot off of the ground.

"Why the fuck are you in the hall? You know you're supposed to be out here a-fucking-lone." At that point, I was still slowly rotating in the circle and he was just barely in my peripheral vision.

"Well, you see, Usagi was with me, but then I stormed out of Aizen's little party room and she didn't follow. So I just kept going, and then I guess I walked past you or something because suddenly, BAM, I'm here swinging." The collar of my coat/shirt was getting tighter and tighter around my neck, nearly to the point where it was preparing to choke me.

After a moment, I was gently set back down on my feet, and then I felt hands busy at the back of my neck, fighting with the fabric of the hood in an attempt to straighten it out.

"You're like a mother hen," I muttered under my breath, reaching my own hands back to yank the hood into it's proper position; he was taking too long. When I did so, one of his hands landed on top of mine and latched on to it, while my other hand bumped his.

He froze, but I yanked my hand free and immediately fixed my hood in a quick and proper fashion. Then, I pulled it down in the front a bit so the collar didn't dig into my neck quite so much.

"There!" I announced, tossing my hands up in the air with a flourish once I was comfortable with my coat. "That's better."

He was going to strangle you. End your life. Cut off your air.

Let him do it. You deserve to die. You should have never been born.

I bit my lip minutely, wishing I had more medication or a chance to get more. The voices would be the death of me, I knew—or was it a singular voice? I couldn't quite make up my mind on that front, because at that point it could have been either option.

I straightened up and turned around to face Grimmjow, who was still frowning.

"Well?" I said snappishly. "What are you gawking at?"

"You're shaking worse than you normally fucking do," he snapped back, deciding to jump into action and stalk past me, shoving his hands in his pockets as he did so. "Come on, bitch."

I raised my eyebrows at his sudden mood change, but shrugged and followed him anyway.

See? This one was much, much faster! Hopefully, things will start picking up at this point-I know how long it's going to be and how it's going to end, now all we have to do is get there.