Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Dead Inside ❯ Madness ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. I don't really want to.

Warnings: Extreme gore, future lemon, rape, language, etc. Proceed with caution.

Notes: I normally write plain angst, but this time, I decided to put a twist on my favourite genre of writing. The following fic is a mix of pretty much every horror movie I've ever seen, as well as the product of my twisted little mind hyped up on sugar. The pairing begins as 4x2 and 3x1, but will change.

Soundtrack: Anything from the Queen of the Damned.

Dead Inside

My lover lies beside me, face calm and smooth in sleep. I watch the play of dreams upon his face, before bending to touch my forehead to his. If I try, I can almost see what he's dreaming. He thinks of love and lust, thoughts abstracted by the facets of our reality. I smile grimly, tenderly, my expression hiding my rage, my fear, my insanity.

He is but a child in form, hand under his face and fist by his mouth in an infantile instinct ingrained in his subconscious. I trail my hand along his arm, watching the tendons jump and flex below the skin in reaction, and giggle when his fingers twitch. I look at myself and giggle again, watching my own exposed and blood-slick tendons bend and twist.

I slide off the bed, leaving the blade that had bared things never to see the light upon the crimson saturated sheets, padding over to the full-length mirror in the corner. I can feel wet trickles sliding down my skin and falling to the ground in saturnine droplets. My hand presses against a cut, inflicted in my insanity, holding back what threatens to spill out.

The air is foul with the scent of bile, and things digested. Against my splayed fingers, acid is barely restrained, the heated liquid nearly burning even through the organic material that contains it. I stop in front of the mirror and lift my arm, digits barely brushing the reflective surface, but still leaving smears behind, seeming black and brown in the darkness. To be true, I do not know if that is their true colour or if the streaks are red and scarlet; I cannot see from my left eye for it no longer exists. I smile at my image; leaning forward until our lips meet, mine leaving behind marks inked in clotting blood.

The copy of myself sneers in disgust at the blemish on the walls of his prison and I return the look with a grin, whistling a jaunty tune as I return to bed. The sound is a rasping breath, accompanied by a gurgle of blood that froths around in the wreck of my jaw. Teeth fragmented and missing, tongue removed. I created this horrific work of art from myself, listening to the whispering night that urged me to it, promising me eternal life if I gave them these unneeded body items. I agreed. I carefully lie down upon the bed once more, noting that the mattress bubbles when I rest my weight upon it. It will have to be burnt.

The night has granted its promise. I raise my head off the pillows and look down towards the gash I had been holding closed previously; glistening coils now bulge from the wound and cascade over my sides. I tangle my fingers in them and laugh again, weaving them into knots and fanciful figures, humming instead of whistling, chocking on the blood that is now filling my lungs. I tire of my activities and roll over, pulling my lover close and wrapping my arms around him. My left hand finds the blade I dropped upon the bed and brings it into the light for my inspection. The tool is encrusted with blood from the last hours, and I smirk. It will have one more offering released upon its blade tonight.

The silver and crimson tip falls, approaching my eye. I blink and several lashes are cut, falling onto the surface of my iris. I blink, and they're wiped away. The knife moves again, point now resting on the delicate tissue, scraping across the miniscule veins. The night keens around me, as wild and mystical as any music score, calling for the tribute.

The noise builds to a crescendo as my grip tightens upon the hilt. I smile, blood spilling from my lips. Tissue parts, deflating under the edge. The tip skitters across bone, end chipping away before it thrusts home.

~*~

The sun rose outside, gilding the antique farmhouse in gold and vermilion before fading into citrus and rose hues, leaving the white clapboard tinted the colour of bloodless flesh. The grounds around the house set it in a natural depression, a gem on a cushion, priceless. From the surrounding area, birds called as they started their daily rituals, unaware of the menace among them.

A scream rocked the house shortly after the last rose tint had faded from the white siding, the noise reverberating through the walls, repeated endlessly as living awoke and smiled lazily at his lover, only to open his eyes and meet empty sockets. Footsteps pounded through the halls, echoed and magnifying until it seemed an army marched through the house to prosecute he who had disturbed the peaceful place while the man scrambled away from his mutilated lover, dragging the corpse with him when the blonde body's limbs tangled in his long hair. Struggling to get away and becoming smeared with the dead man's blood, he finally yanked himself free, leaving ragged strands of hair behind, his scalp bleeding. The pain didn't, couldn't register through his terror. Violet eyes darted towards the door as it slammed open, and he huddled in on himself, shaking and sobbing, unable to take his eyes off the body.

Two of the newcomer's gagged, one chocking upon his bile and running from the room while the other got himself under control, barely. The third stood fast, staring at the carnage within the room, eyes unfocused and unseeing as the blood drained from his face, leaving him pale and trembling. "Mon Dieu..." It was Trowa who broke the horrified silence, his eyes never moving from what remained of Quatre's body as he reverted to his inherited language. Behind he and Heero, Wufei made his way shakily back into the room, only to gag again.

Heero's eyes turned to Duo who was huddled in the middle of the room, crying hysterically, covered in what was obviously Quatre's blood from head to toe.

"Doushite... doushite... doushite..." The brunette whispered like a mantra as he rocked, his violet eyes wide and haunted by the sight of his former lover. "Doushite, doushite..." Stretching out, he reached towards the blonde, fingers almost brushing Quatre's crimson-soaked hair before pulling away as if burnt. "Iie!!! Yamete, Quatre!"

The three at the door snapped from their shock at Duo's scream, Wufei and Trowa moving to take the brunette from the blood and gore strewn room as Heero stripped the ruined sheets to hide the body.

"DOUSHITE?!"

~*~

Duo sat curled in a wicker rocking chair by the bay window, unable to stand watching the paramedics bag Quatre's body and carry it away for autopsy. It was clear how he died, but they, Heero and the others, wanted to know why he did it. He just wanted it to end... To stop seeing Quatre's gutted and mutilated body... To stop seeing his ghost, to stop hearing the voices that urged him to join the blonde.

"Duo...?" Pale violet eyes flicked towards the speaker then returned to their study of the leave pasted to the window by the rainstorm a few nights ago. "Duo?" His eyes flicked towards her, then back again. Relena wasn't one of the people he wanted to see.

The girl was dressed in black, having laid her traditional pastels to rest to mourn Quatre. Though the energetic and prideful gleam remained, even her eyes were dull and washed out by the red puffiness of crying. Duo had no more tears. He'd cried all of his already, several times over as Wufei had helped him bathe and clean away the blood. Heero had been busy with the authorities, and Trowa with alerting everyone to the blonde's death.

Those closest to Quatre were the first to arrive, commandeering shuttles in order to arrive within the hour. Sally had made the original examination; Dorothy and Lady Une had escorted Relena. Lucrezia and Milliardo had sent their condolences, unable to leave the terraforming project on Mars.

"Duo!" Long nailed fingers closed on Duo's shoulder and once again his eyes flicked away from the leave, this time remaining there to stare pointedly at the offending digits. "Didn't you hear me Duo?" Relena bent, obviously not noticing Duo's pointed stare at her fingers, which remained on his shoulder. "Wufei wants to know if you're hungry."

"Don't touch me."

The girl blinked, drawing back as her eyes widened in shock. "Duo?"

"Don't EVER touch me unless I say it's alright, ojou-san." Duo's pale face turned towards her, hand coming up to pry her nerveless fingers from his shoulder. "Understand me?" Frosted lavender eyes met Relena's before a smile tilted Duo's lips and he laughed. "No Quatre, I'm not scaring her."

Relena pressed a trembling hand to her lips, staring at the boy in front of her before he spun and fled the room, heels clicking furiously as she stumbled in her haste to get away.

Wufei swiftly stepped aside as the politician ran past him, terrified. The Asian bot looked back at her, already able to guess what had frightened her so and walked further into the room, placing his hand on the back of the chair, finger tips brushing Duo's shoulder. "Maxwell, are you hungry?"

"What?" The American glanced up, the piercing look he'd fixed on Relena gone. "Oh, hey `Fei. Sure… Just a sandwich though please. You know how I like `em, ne?"

"Hai. Cut diagonally, no crusts." Though Wufei's brow had arched at Duo's use of his name for the Asian boy, Wufei didn't comment on it. Better to humour the American, at least until he got over Quatre's suicide.

"Yep!" A genki smile seemed to erase all signs of mourning on Duo's face before fading away again. "Thanks man… This… This hit me harder than I thought I guess…"

"I understand." Wufei smiled slightly at his best friend, then turned to prepare Duo's lunch.