Gothic Delusions

by Timesprite

 

 


All righty. Here's another short fic from everyone's favorite angst goddess (well, probably not, but humor my ego, okay? It's fragile.)

Special thanks go out to Em and Then who once again helped me nail down just what it was my brain was trying to come up with.

Disclaimers: Domino doesn't belong to me. In fact, I think she's hiding in wait behind some bushes so she can cap me for being so mean. Rated PG for very minor bad language.

Feedback is much appreciated.


Cold, damp floor under my cheek. The same as yesterday, as the day before as...I realize I’ve lost track of time, locked up here. Bound, lying bruised and battered on the floor, in the dark. Maybe it’s a blessing, to lay here and not know how long I’ve lain here. To listen to nothing but the ringing silence, stare at nothing but the pitch black darkness.

He’ll come for me again, I know. I intrigue him. At first, I railed at him, spit in his face, threw ever insult I knew at him until my throat was raw and I could not speak above a whisper. And even then, I cursed him in my mind. Damned him to the darkest hell I could conjure up in my mind. I can have quite a vivid imagination when I want to. I would lay here in the dark, aching, with a wide smile on my split and bleeding lips as I thought of what I’d do to him when I was rescued.

I don’t remember when it was I realized I wasn’t *going* to be rescued. He was right after all, the bastard. They weren’t going to come for me. And I couldn’t escape. That was the most sickening thought of all. *I* was trapped. *Me.* There wasn’t a damned thing I could do.

I stopped imagining him dead. And I stopped imagining footsteps outside my cell, the sound of imminent freedom. I stopped imagining anything at all. My world became this all encompassing darkness. It became the cool damp floor that soothed my pain and chilled me to the bone at the same time. This is all there is. Dark and cold. Cold and dark.

Time ticking by in irregular intervals. And I wonder, have I lost my mind? No, that would be too easy, too peaceful. I’m painfully, hatefully sane as I hear the door slam open, see a tiny sliver of light. The rescue that was never supposed to come. I’d laugh if I had the strength. And maybe one day, if I’m lucky, I’ll dance on that bastard’s grave.


continued in Mind Games

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