30-May-2001
Standard disclaimers apply. The music and lyrics to "Into the Void" are property of Nine Inch Nails. Not mine. Not yours. Let us do the mambo. This fic contains depression, death, and dementia. Don't blame me, it was the sugar's fault. And uh... 2+?... please be careful when reading this fic. I'm not responsible for any flying objects, mkay?
*AUTHOR'S NOTE*
A very special thanks goes out to my partner in crime, Page. She stayed up late with me many a night when I know she had school in the morning. It was just one of those... interesting... conversations that we happened upon the idea for this fic. She was a great help and this one goes out to her.
What is insane?
The dictionary says it means afflicted with insanity, mentally unsound, demented, or an absence of sense.
I say it's... me.
/talking to myself all the way to the station/
Yet, he's the one sitting here, closed off from the entire world. Alone...
I never understood that, really. Why do doctors believe that locking up a mental patient in a place where human contact is null, will aid them? Is solitary confinement parallel to safety?
Whose safety...?
I guess that's why I didn't have the heart to cart him off with a stylish white jacket, padded room, and five burly men that want to do nothing but pump his veins full of sedatives.
Yet... I did encase him from the outside. It was I that had to cage him in the end. None of the others had the heart. Or rather...
They had too much.
Therefore, I kept him here, in a regular home environment, full of all the normal things that I thought could perhaps bring him back one day... bring him out of his dream.
/pictures in my head of the final destination/
I was the dreamer.
Nothing changed. Scratch that, things always change... just never for the better.
And as I sit here and watch him stare into space, I find myself yearning. I'm immensely jealous. It must be so quiet in that void... so perfect.
No problems. No pain. No more voices.
Voices... they're getting so much harder to control these days.
I squint my eyes at him, the black fabric of the chair I propped him in melting and swirling against the color of his hair.
I love him, you know? At least, that's what one of the voices told me. In addition, another agreed. And the discussion that ensued is what led me to this position today.
/all lined up, all the ones that are allowed to stay/
To help the one I love.
*CLICK*
Empty.
So what exactly makes a person crazy?
/tried to save myself but myself keep slipping away/
I would venture to guess it was the war. Everyone saw him as a stone. I saw a stick.
A stick that was ready to break... and break he did.
I don't remember exactly when or how it happened. I think it was a gradual thing. Him spacing out one minute, or talking to himself in Japanese the next.
Sure, that doesn't qualify someone as insane... but it was a start.
*CLICK*
Empty again.
You know I've forgotten the sound of his voice? The timbre, the sheer feel of cascading velvet when he'd speak... it's gone. I haven't heard an intelligible word from that mouth in what... three years now?
/tried to save a place from the cuts and the scratches/
Three years of talking to nothing but my voices.
What qualifies a person as mental?
I don't know, maybe it's when you become too violent to possess. And believe me, he had his violent stage. I can remember some nights having to stand up for eight straight hours... watching him from across the room... tied to a chair.
It's funny... when he was sane, it would take him nothing less than ten seconds to find his way out of a rope bind. I guess you forget things like that when you have no mind.
/tried to overcome the complications and the catches/
*CLICK*
Empty.
Well, I say it's time to end this dance. It's been three years and no one's the smarter... or the saner.
/nothing ever grows and the sun doesn't shine all day/
I'm not sure when I realized what I was doing. Perhaps it was when one of the voices told me I had left it locked up in the bedside cabinet.
Perhaps it was when I felt the splitting cold and the heavy burden of the metal bullet lying in my hand.
Maybe it was when I locked the chamber... and for some strange reason...
He jumped at the sound.
So what really qualifies a person as insane?
*BOOM*
I'm not quite sure...
/tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping away/
...I watch as Heero's blood seeps into the black fabric like a shadow.
But one thing's for sure...
Duo Maxwell just met all of the qualifications.
I let loose a resounding laugh across the empty walls...
... and the voices agree.
/tried to save myself but myself keeps slipping.../
The End
*nervous laugh* No, I DON'T know what I was thinking when I wrote that one. *hides*
Kirei
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