Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Under Stress ❯ The Speed Of Pain ( Chapter 7 )

Forgive me, y'all. That last chapter was terribly
dark and deep down, I knew I had it wrong...
<...sob..>
But this chapter is better! No writer's remorse
here. So BLAH!
Heh, sorry for that, it was a little childish.
Chapter Six will NOT be mutilated (like I regretfully did to
chapter one) and the story will continue on slowly in it's own
sick, twisted little way. ~_^

This song contains a couple bad words, but this is rated R people!
Sorry...
It's The Speed Of Pain by Marilyn Manson and I've never heard
it, but the lyrics fit not too shabbily.

Claimer: I own Digimon.
Wallpaper, that is.

One more thing: This is the first storylet I've typed on my new
BLACK keyboard. I'm so happy! It's so pretty! I'd christen it proper,
but I hear champagne does a number on electronics.

Miyako ran down the dark, crushing hallway. The tears were coming, running down her face, laughing as they spattered by her feet.
She couldn't breathe.
Death? It stared menacingly from behind her, chasing her. If she could just outrun it, Takeru wouldn't be dead, Ken wouldn't be responsible, and the game they played wouldn't be irrevocably soured.

They slit our throats
Like we were flowers
And our milk has been devoured

Too many thoughts raced through her mind. She had been so happy; why did he have to take it all away?
Happy?
Here?
This was her prison where she had but the thinnest whiff of self-determination. Her freedom - their relationship - was all a lie, he did as he pleased, and she continued to believe it was her idea.
Oh, but how she'd been happy.
He was Ken Ichijouji to her again, the Kaiser while he was away - but what if he was playing this game all the time?
Why couldn't she just be happy!?

When you want it
It goes away too fast
When you hate it
It always seems to last
But just remember when you think you're free
The crack inside your fucking heart is me

Oh, but how she'd been happy.

Her lungs and legs were fit to burn, and she stopped, leaning on the mute black of his walls. She glanced behind her and - even though the liquid in her eyes clouded her vision - she could see the spectre that was chasing forebodingly had given up. She was so far away from any room or landmark, the hall stretched into shadows on either side.

I wanna outrace the speed of pain for another day

And now it caught up with her. No, not the dark ghostly harbinger she imagined, but all the thoughts and screams running around in her head. And it hurt. Knowing he was always playing one step ahead, always detached, directing her soft, pretty heart with one eye on his empire.
He'd given her what she wanted, a shy, delicate little boy to love, and - one way or another - brought her under control. It wasn't the violence or the fear of it that held her in check, it was her own foolish head. Traitor.

I wish I could sleep
But I can't lay on my back
Because there's a knife
For everyday that I've known you

She was the Brutus of the Destineds' struggle, giving in to the enemy who whispered softly. The Julius C. whose silken hair fell in his face when his glasses were off, when he bent over her at night and told her precious things in a foreign tongue. Sliding to her knees, Miyako shuddered slightly. Her heart ached, for she'd never imagined the depth of her joy. She hadn't said it out loud, and that was the one thing that kept her self-esteem afloat now. But she loved him.
And even if it wasn't for real, she wanted that boy back.

When you want it
it goes away too fast
When you hate it
It always seems to last
But just remember when you think you're free
The crack inside your fucking heart is me

Her purple hair swayed lightly as she decided to stand up.
Now or never, honey.
She had two choices, and she started walking her way out of this concrete jungle to find them.
One: live happily, stupidly, and pretend nothing had happened.
Two: declare war, forget your mistakes, and take the miserable pain as it came. 'Et tu...?'
She left it up to his reaction to decide for her.

The youngest Inoue knew she'd found familiar territory when she saw the little Wormmon. The wind blew a door to the outside behind him closed, and she recognized she was near the glass-domed control center that sat on top of his floating citadel like a crown.
"I wouldn't go out there." She'd never been 'out there', the balcony-of-sorts that was the cement roof. It didn't have a railing, but it was flat, high, and exposed to the stabbing wind - what else would you call it?
"I have to." She didn't speak it, for the voice in her throat stayed there. The little insect nodded his head, now burnished slightly red with lost tears, and crawled aside to let the human past.
"He's out there, you know. I wouldn't-"

I wanna outrace the speed of pain for another day

She turned back to him, only to solidify her resolve. How the creature must be hurting, he'd been betrayed most of all. But, perhaps, there was some comfort in the fact that he'd turned on the bug so many times and knew it was coming so many more. Some relief in repetition.
Perhaps not. His antennae were so low he was bound to step on them. She wanted to pick him up and hold him, but that would only make her cry again, and crying was NOT something she wanted to give in to now.

Setting her jaw, straightening her shoulders, and breathing in deep, Miyako psyched herself up. It wasn't going to be easy, but the old Miyako could. She could too.
She pushed the door open to face der Kaiser and tell him exactly how heartless he was and how he'd never be better than her, Takeru, or the rest who fought against him.
There he was, standing by the edge - almost too close to the edge. A small fire was lit and smoldering next to him, wind carrying the ashes away into space. She cleared her throat to make him turn around and face her. When he did, all her 'choices' became null and void.

He was wearing some odd clothing, grey and uncreative, and his glasses were gone, dropping from his limp hand to the sooty mark still half-burning next to him. He didn't watch them fall, but she did. Watched them click on the roof and nestle next to the burning material.
In that scrutinizing instant, she realized what he'd lit on fire.

His cape. His jumpsuit.
...His whip.

Her firm mouth spread open, failing to stifle a gasp. Then... he must be wearing his school uniform...? She looked back up, their eyes locking onto each other, reaching to talk without speaking. Under his tousled hair, those big, blue eyes of his filled and spilled, dethroning the Caesar as they hissed in the coals when they fell.

Lie to me, cry to me, give to me
I would
Lie with me, die with me, give to me
I would
Keep all your secrets wrapped in dead hair
I hope at least we die holding hands for always

She no longer had any choices.

Wormmon: Somebody feels my pain! <gushes>
EH: Oh, you poor little neglected creature.
Miyako: Ahem- I'd like to thank you for that nice little
bit of mushiness at the end.
EH: You're welcome. You were crying for a long time, so I
figured it was Ken's turn.
Kaiser: I-
EH: Silence! You don't get to comment at all.