September 1, 2000
this is twisted. and strange. :D
For Tyr, for being so wonderful and archiving our fics. ^_~ *mwah*
Sorry it's such an...angsty piece...
We're like the Keepers of Relena's Sex Life... First Colors, then
the Relena-Dorothy Torture arc...
Warnings: Squicky, hetero, AU, INCEST. Strange. Relena's POV. !!!OOC!!! Angst.
Pairings: 1xR, 2+R, implied 1xJ and Rx9, RxD, DaddyXR (does he have a number?)
Archive: Woohoo! *hides* GW Addiction, I guess... :D
Disclaimer: We do not own these puppets.
*Cut my life into pieces*
Father works so hard that he never has time for 'us', the vase-like wife and the garish smiling child, anymore. His favorite red leather chair and his fuzzy slippers are still cold. He never came home last night. His box of Cuban cigars sits, abandoned, in the ease of the family man and breadwinner.
The door.
*This is my last resort*
"Father," I say, bowing my head like one awaiting the kiss of the guillotine. I hear him swallow and can barely contain the smile. "You came home."
"Relena...you're sick," he says slowly, drawing two of those wicked, tempting fingers over his scratchy beard. "We need to get help, Princess." I growl at the use of the old nickname, warning him away. That's out of bounds; he should know, he pushes them often enough.
"I know."
Two steps, and then I fling my arms around his waist, twining around him as neatly as the sheets around our bodies. A tent for our sex.
*Suffocation*
"Not in this house!" he roars, slamming one fist down onto the hard red cherry. Mother, miraculously, is no where to be found. It's terrible, it's a sin, but I can't help it. He made me in his image, taken straight from his rib cage and laid out ceremonially onto the bed, legs already spread. I wish those powerful hands were clenching around my neck, hitting me, bruising me.
I want it to hurt. "Not in this house what?" I ask politely, wrinkling my nose at the overcooked chicken and broccoli dinner. "You can't tell me you don't like it."
"I don't!" he blusters, but he's lying and we both know it. So we lift our glasses in a toast to ourselves and the secrets of our house. Ours. And mother is still hiding in her room, as it should be. So odd, that the daughter should usurp the mother's position so quickly. First the press conferences, answering questions with a sugary sweet smile, answering accusations with a perplexed look of cautious innocence. Now I'm the little missus.
*No breathing*
"What the fuck were you doing?" he demands, shaking me roughly. So hard, like Father did. His mouth twists into a snarl, even as he shoves a towel at me. "This is the boys' shower room, you know." I can't help noticing the way that he looks at me, out of the corner of his eye.
I smile. He's mine and he doesn't even know it.
"I know. Do you know that I'm a girl?" He blushes and moves to stand.
"It's rather obvious, Relena." Sighing, I stand from my bath, shivering as the cool air hits blue-tinged skin, and wrap the towel loosely around my waist. He shoots me a quizzical look.
I point to his cock. Or rather, it's meant to be his waist, where his own towel rides low on butterfly hips, but I aim a little too low and his face burns. "When in Rome..."
"As to what I was doing..." He leans forward, dark hair falling over my face in a shadow. "You don't need to breathe if you're dead. You don't need to sleep if you're never awake."
Let the soldier muddle over the philosopher's adage.
*Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm, bleeding*
"What are you doing?" I examine my nails; in the darkness, it seems feigned interest. He tosses the razor under the bed, scowling, trying to hide the wide slashes along his thighs. "I thought it strange that a boy with no peach fuzz to speak of requested a razor, and an old fashioned one at that. 'Decent values', 'good family name'," I mock, lowering my voice. He snarls like a trapped animal.
"It's not your concern." Flatter than roadkill on Route 269.
"It is my concern, Heero. I care for all of my fellow classmates." Then I show him exactly how I 'care' for them.
*This is my last resort*
Love.
I strike him hard across the face. My twisted soldier, my pretty toy. I think I love him. It hurts me.
I hurt him.
Another blow, and his nose breaks, yielding beneath the brass knuckles. Pargan...what a dear old man. Who would have thought he would have such an obsession with torture instruments? Borrowed from his glass display case behind the false wall; I'll have to stop hitting Heero now, they might scratch.
*Cut my life into pieces*
I love him, and he does this. Duo sits on the bed, watching impassively, that massively long braid practically twitching with lust, writhing with a life of its own. Heero falls down, long enough for a white marble hand to reach down and toss him easily back onto his feet.
"Take it like a man," he advises wisely, eyebrows peaking, and Heero wipes the blood from a cut under his eye onto the sheets, his naked body trembling. It's just another drop to add to the amount already starching the sheets stiff. Duo and I, we're two of an aberrant kind.
When it's over, Duo reaches out a hand, as if he were guiding a dog to euthanasia. "Be a good boy and let Daddy fuck you," he sighs, and motions for me to stay, to observe how he breaks his spirit so efficiently. In a movement like a blur, like a red wind, Heero flies out of the room, cradling his face in his bird-thin hands. We exchange looks.
"Shit."
I know exactly where he's going.
*I've reached my last resort* "It doesn't matter!" I call after him. "I own you! You hear me?" My voice sounds foreign to my ears as the screams rips through the paper walls. "I OWN YOU! You can't kill me, Heero, no matter how hard you try!"
*Suffocation*
"So," I say, turning back to Duo, "how long before he gets to J?"
He shrugs, and fingers his cross in a manner so erotic it's obscene, and so sacred that I can understand why my lover turned to him for comfort.
*No breathing*
I look at him coyly and he curses fluently.
"I'm a little gay boy, Relena. Don't even bother trying it."
*Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm, bleeding*
It's always been easy getting people to do what I want. "Doesn't matter," I reply softly, prowling towards him. Stalking through the wild grass towards the wounded kill... He looks at me evenly, tugging on one ear absently.
"It matters. I'll be faithful to that little fucker, even if he's with you when he should be with me." So much for going for the jugular.
"Well fuck you, Mr. High and Mighty."
*Do you even care if I die bleeding?*
Duo looks distracted, as if seven demons are sitting on his shoulders, whispering to him, pulling him away with a red, wax apple. "I've got to find him," he says quietly. "Good night, Relena."
"Good night." I'm still cordial, even though I feel like taking that razor of Heero's and thrusting it into Duo's windpipe. I leave, feeling somewhat disappointed with this turn of events, and then I see a long swatch of blonde disappearing around the corner, hear black heels clicking violently against the floor, stabbing the earth to the core.
*Would it be wrong?*
"Relena," she says, her eyes flickering nervously like twin candle flames.
"Dorothy." Like the Wizard of Oz, like the fairy tales Father used to read me. I *am* sorry the fucker bit the dust.
Is she really so idealistic, so hopeful like that age-old heroine? War, war, war, that's all she preaches about, all she knows. You can't have wild, mind-blowing sex with a concept, though.
*Would it be right?*
I try the innocent look, cherubic and halo-inspiring. "I think we need to talk."
"Yes." She swallows, reaching behind her ear to tame a stray flaxen strand of hair back. "We do."
*If I took my life tonight*
"My room?"
She smiles, a biting grin that hints of things to come. I study my scarred palms and see our bodies wrapped in sweaty sheets. Things to come.
*Chances are that I might*
"Are you sure you're just shaving your legs, Relena?" Smug, self-satisfied, sated. A regular housecat with a domestic domain. I look into the mirror and practice my Relena-smile. "Come back to bed!"
*Mutilation outta sight*
"I'm coming, Dorothy." The door flies open and I step through for my grand performance. The spotlight burns my back, and I slump against the door, letting one hand tug the hair away from my face. "Are you ready?"
"Of course." She leans over to turn the light on, then winces as a shoe flies through the air to her head. "What the hell?"
"Leave the light off."
*And I'm contemplating suicide*
She lies spooned against my back, long arms limp over her breasts protectively. I have a beautiful, intelligent lover to call my own, one who will never question me, will never do anything to manipulate me other than the petty games she plays. I've never wanted to die so much.
I stare out through the darkened window and think of his eyes.
*Cuz I'm losing my sight*
"Are you sure, Relena-sama?" she asks, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders.
I nod vigorously. "Just a month," I whisper. My fingers are shaking so badly I can't even light my cigarette. She moves to do it for me; I slap at her hands, leaving red marks on her knuckles where my Father's wedding ring connects with her flesh.
"You still wear your Father's ring, Relena?"
"It's none of your business, Noin." And it isn't.
*Losing my mind*
He taunts me on the way to Bellview. Heero, still young and wantonly dressed, sits in the front seat and laughs. "You see what you did to me?" he asks, tugging on his shirt and pressing his body to the plastic caging, hips flexing under the spandex. It inches higher and higher until he finally yanks it off, leaving it to slither away into a mess of green cloth.
There's a hole, a gaping red flesh wound where his heart should be beating. He grins.
"See what you did?" *Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine*
"Stop the car," I order. Pargan, ever dependable, does.
I vomit up my lunch. Then we keep going, further down the road into the open highway. There are daisies decorating the waysides. I find myself wanting to pick some, but I know that I shouldn't indulge. Noin's voice haunts me.
'Not a vacation, Miss Relena...'
*Losing my sight*
But it is. It's a vacation from me. I could use one.
*Losing my mind*
"What's your name?" she asks. 'She' is a petite blonde, her face and hands all angles. The sharp ones keep disappearing and reappearing in strange places. I try to smile, seeing the monitor hiding conspicuously behind the door. We both wear the white robes of the suicidal.
"Relena."
She nods, then says, "What's your name?"
"Relena."
"What's your--"
I explode, spontaneously combust. It would have been funny, except for the sedative they gave me.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
*Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine*
She whimpers and wanders away, wringing her hands, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. All crazy, all surrounding me. They're crazy. I'm just vacationing, like in the Bahamas. Except if I choose to sunbathe, I'll get little diamond shapes from the iron grating in the windows.
"They don't let us outside," one older woman in duck footsie pajamas informs me haughtily. *I never realized I was spread too thin*
"So you had intercourse with your father?"
I nod, tucking my hands behind my head. This couch is too comfortable, too soft. I could just float away and he, hiding behind his yellow notepad and his doctorate certificates, would never notice. "Yeah." Then I smile. "I liked it too."
*Till it was too late*
"You realize that we won't be able to let you go after one month? You've made very little progress, Miss Darlian."
"Fuck you."
"That's inappropriate language, young lady." The woman, straight-edged and diamond cut in her white uniform and slippers, glares at me over the top of her spectacles.
I hold up three fingers. "Read between the lines."
*And I was empty within*
It comes the second month. When Heero was around, I could just do him, could just savor the feel of his cock spasming, his hips grinding against mine, the little noises he made as he came. So violent, so bestial. Gorgeous.
The world is spinning, and I stagger into the commons area, bracing myself on the frayed couch. "Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"
*Hungry!*
I see the attendant, the only male working in this house. "Hey there pretty boy, want to take a walk on the wild side?"
He shakes his head. "Sit down, Relena. It's time for meds."
I disappoint myself, but I follow him commands, because that's what they teach you. What I learn so I can get out.
*Feeding on chaos*
It's just a little mistake, but they'll live to regret it. The nurse forgets to lock the rec room door. There's lots of fun things to play with in there, and we've got lots of little hands to touch with.
*And living in sin*
I paint her body Martian green and she paints mine, the brush tickling over my ribs, pink. Pink.
It's always pink.
*Downward spiral, where do I begin?*
And then we all go over to the one window, large enough for six giggling girls to stand around and watch the glittering stars. They look vicious, like my Heero's eyes.
*It all started when I lost my mother*
"Heero," I say quietly.
Danalynn looks at me strangely, flipping a long waterfall of crimson hair over a pale, smooth back. "There aren't any," she scoffs, and puts out the burning stub of her cigarette on the woodwork.
*No love for myself*
"There were once..."
*And no love for another.*
She smiles, a genuine, brilliant lop-sided grin that seems to mimic the moon. "Maybe there were." Then Marks joins us, Marks with her short black hair and desperate green eyes. And Bianca who talks to birds. And her hand-holding Jack-the-Ripper-idolizing girlfriend, Ria, who carved one blue eye out on a hazy September night and ended up here.
*Searching to find a love up on a higher level*
They kiss, close-mouthed and chaste, but I feel a burning jealousy seep through me. And before I know it, my hands are on their shoulders, shoving them apart.
*Finding nothing but questions and devils*
"What the fuck?" Bianca, our quiet little flower seller, winds her blonde hair around her head in a comfort turban. The movement is childish and less than pragmatic, but still entrancing.
"Get a room," I snarl, and they freeze.
We all laugh, because we know that we're lifers. We're not going anywhere.
*Cuz I'm losing my sight*
Then her voice, matronly and disrupting, echoes throughout the room.
*Losing my mind*
"What are you girls doing? Get back into your rooms."
So we slink into our cubicles without windows or locks, because that's what they tell us to do. We're just puppets and they have to move our hands and feet, even if we still talk. They wish we wouldn't.
*Wish somebody would tell me in fine*
I look at Ria, and she tosses her curly black hair back, exposing the scar running from over her eyebrow down her cheek. It's silvery in the wan light, standing out against the smooth tan of her skin. "You're not crazy," she says quietly. "Get out of this place. Find a nice boy. Your hero."
And I laugh, because she's closer to the mark than she knows. But it's too late to tell her that, because we're shuffling, shuffling down the hall, our bare feet slapping angrily against the cold floors. It smells like shit in here, but no one else seems to notice. They've gotten used to shitting where they eat.
*Losing my sight*
It's sad. Some days I can't even tell the difference between them and me. I guess I'm getting used to it too.
*Losing my mind*
I hear a scream erupt in the early morning, fire racing across the sky. At least, that's what the mornings in my head look like. And in that morning, Heero and I stand on a grassy hill and we watch the sun rise. And neither of us says anything, because our love is too shallow for words. It might break if we handle it carelessly.
*Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine*
I peer out into the hallway. It's Bianca. Poor Bianca; her hair is tangled in her captors' hands as she struggles. It reminds me of Dorothy's in a way, the flaxen white and the sheen. And then I see the stretcher, and the body bag, and I know Ria's dead.
I envy her.
At least she's free.
*Nothing's alright*
We're not free. We pretend to be, running around in our rooms with padded walls, taking our crazy-meds, making merry. But really, we're just primal animals, locked up in a white nuthouse
*Nothing is fine*
up two flights of twisted, old stairs that creak under more than a pound of weight
*I'm running and I'm crying*
past a hard metal door painted white, painted pure
*I'm crying*
down a gray hallway with shaking lights that tremble at night
*I'm crying*
and then into our realm of never-ending checks and medications.
*I'm crying*
But I know I belong here.
*I'm crying*
In this house.
Ariana and Bianca
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