"Shaggy," Viktor spoke quietly, "You have a visitor-"
"Christina? Christina's come back? Chris-" he stood so suddenly the doctor took a frightened step back.
"No, Shaggy, Clawdeen is here to see you," Viktor kept his composure, "You remember Clawdeen?"
At once the haunted, hopeless demeanor returned. Shaggy all but crumpling onto his bed, "Tell her to go away," he turned his back to the doctor, "I don't want to see anyone"
"But, I want to see you," Clawdeen entered the room, waving Viktor away, "I miss you"
"You don't believe me, no one believes me no one ever does," Shaggy sourly stated. "Like, I'm not crazy"
"Not this again, Shaggy please"
Silence.
Thick. Smothering. Silence that choked all life out of the room. Silence that Clawdeen couldn't stand but there was nothing they could do. And, they had tried. They had tried everything. Pictures, talking, home videos, hypnosis, medication. Nothing they could do brought Shaggy out of this delusion, this spell. If anything it pushed him further and further in.
Sitting in the hard chair beside the bed, Clawdeen let out a heavy sigh.
Shaggy steadfastly ignored her. Lies. Lies. Lies. They wanted him to believe lies. The lies that said Christina was an unwanted child. An unwanted and unloved beastly creature raised in contempt. Filled with malice, and hatred, with only a black hole where her heart should have been. Devastatingly beautiful but vindictive, all too eager to plunge a knife,-or more often her teeth-into anyone who got too close to her.
But, he knew. He knew the truth. He remembered. He remembered what no one else could. That Christina did have a heart. A heart so big that she couldn't hurt anyone or anything even when they might have deserved it. She was beautiful because of her heart.
She'd not left. She didn't die. She'd been taken. He knew. He'd SEEN it happen. Heard her scream.
HELP ME!
He would have. Had they not trapped him here. Had they not declared him mentally unwell. Now, his life was reduced to this white, plain room, the clinic, and the grounds. If he so much as looked at the gate surrounding the place he was put back in this room.
He hated this room. Hated the boring color. The bed was too short for him, the one window too small to fit through even for him.
Eventually, Clawdeen left shaking her head and wiping a tear.
I miss you, Christina.
...
"And Goodness knows the Wicked's lives are lonely
Goodness knows the Wicked die alone
It just shows, when you're wicked
You're left only on your own
Yes, Goodness knows the Wicked's lives are lonely
Goodness knows the Wicked cry alone
Nothing grows for the Wicked
They reap only what they've sown"
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she sang. Alone. She was alone for now. Dawn was swiftly approaching, however, bringing her alone time to a close—all too soon, much too soon.
Her song faltering, Christina stood wiping her tears. Nothing but a hollow shell she climbed back into the bed and waited for the door to unlock. Through the window, she could barely make out the outline of the glass building. Its doors always locked. A twisting tangle of enchanted, hungry vines that would try to eat her if she got too close. Unaffected by her fire. Undaunted by her magic. In fact, they seemed to enjoy it. Past that, she could see the first of the guests leaving—drunken paths marked by loops and swirls of magic.
There was always a party, always a revel.
After all, Cadfael loved to show off.
Oh, look, I did write something thanks to No One Mourns The Wicked.
Although as previously stated IDK what I'm doing. This just sort of happened.