1ShOT } let's be clear, i'll trust n o n e
Jun 17, 2014 23:28:48 GMT -5
Post by анзие (Anz) on Jun 17, 2014 23:28:48 GMT -5
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[attr="class","AlysGTable"]
But you won't see me fall apart
I may snap and I move fast
[attr="class","AlysGScrolly"]
You first found him on the arms of a blue-skinned woman, her smile so predatory that the shiver that runs down your spine is far from pleasant, and she is not even looking your way, the irrelevant Avox you're meant to be. Even so you can barely keep yourself from gaping and glaring as the woman takes no notice in you in favor of running her hands possessively over your little brother; he shudders and arches, his expression serenely blank even as his body responds to her touch. When you meet his eyes you realize in horror that he is only a puppet, eyes and fiery soul dulled by the icy punishments both you and he had had to endure.
You could not reach for him, for your then-owner noticed your rising fury and locked you in your cell-like room for the remainder of the party. When you're finally released three days later, half-starved out of your mind, vaguely you notice that he is missing.
Your rage is paid for in your blood and you are returned to your handler, cited as faulty goods.
Your next owner is rather more handsy than your first; your mind is sluggish when you are first sent to him, dulled by the desire for medicines you're not sure should be legally available to Avoxes such as yourself, dulled from the endless days of training you had to undergo yet again.
(Bright in your mind you hold onto the image of your brother, and you play nice with the handler to get out of his disgusting grasp because you want to be out there looking for him; but perhaps you've gone too far, done too much, because you're numb and smiling when your owner demands you lie with him at night. But your brother never fades from your mind and he is the rope you hang onto to keep from falling into the abyss of mindlessness.)
And though you search long and hard when you are allowed the only time you see your dear brother is when he appears in your dreams, always just out of reach from your fingertips, to wake up with your face in a tear-dampened pillow.
You see him next as you head out onto the streets, two and a half owners later, with your brother's face so fucking blurry in your mind's eye that you can barely remember what he looks like. You were at the market in search of silk for your stylist owner - blue-green silk, not green-blue, that distinction was very important - when you hear soulless laughter. For some reason you turned to the sound and you see the face of your brother disappear into the jacket of a burly man (who you recognize as someone you once served, who treated you kindly) with fangs like a wolf; the man is grinning down at him, seemingly content, and your brother's posture is relaxed and calm, but still your fury rises; you walk towards them and your brother lifts his head when the wolf-man speaks to you, wondering who you belong to; and the look on his face was so distant, so calm that tears roll down your cheeks and you start screaming - wordless shrieks that rise in pitch and causes Peacekeepers to descend onto your furiously shaking body (and why couldn't you move? Why didn't you break free and lunge for him, when he was so close, when he was just there, you could have held onto him and never let go, why are you so stupid why didn't you do anything why why why?). They drag you 'home', though what is home when you have no family to call your own? When you're only a slave?
Your owner disciplines you, but even her creativity cannot stop you from waking up screaming in terrified rage in the middle of the night, with your brother's politely confused face in the bright light of your mind's eye.
You're sent back to your handler but all of his ministrations cannot stop your body-wracking sobs. You're hooked up to a machine that puts you into a deep, dreamless sleep and you rest.
When you wake up next you cannot remember your own name. Your new owners call you 'pet' and you eagerly lap up their affections like an affection-starved pup, almost purring when they lay their hands on your head gently with proud smiles. Still there remains a sense of wrongness about your existence and you wonder about it in the times when you're left alone, poke and prod but you cannot remember for the life of you why everything feels so wrong when it's all so right.
But you live through it and rush to serve your owners, who often touch the scar on your eye and tell you that it's a pity you cannot see. But you don't care because they treat you well, run their hands through your hair and press kisses to your forehead and you beam at them like there's nothing else you'd rather do.
(You cannot get rid of the wrongness and you cannot remember why it is wrong, and you think on it occasionally, but Avoxes should not have thoughts; you wonder why the image of the young brilliant boy with a beautiful smile makes you sad, but you do not dwell. You move along with your life, because this is who you are.
You are an Avox, and they call you 'Pet'.)
You could not reach for him, for your then-owner noticed your rising fury and locked you in your cell-like room for the remainder of the party. When you're finally released three days later, half-starved out of your mind, vaguely you notice that he is missing.
Your rage is paid for in your blood and you are returned to your handler, cited as faulty goods.
Your next owner is rather more handsy than your first; your mind is sluggish when you are first sent to him, dulled by the desire for medicines you're not sure should be legally available to Avoxes such as yourself, dulled from the endless days of training you had to undergo yet again.
(Bright in your mind you hold onto the image of your brother, and you play nice with the handler to get out of his disgusting grasp because you want to be out there looking for him; but perhaps you've gone too far, done too much, because you're numb and smiling when your owner demands you lie with him at night. But your brother never fades from your mind and he is the rope you hang onto to keep from falling into the abyss of mindlessness.)
And though you search long and hard when you are allowed the only time you see your dear brother is when he appears in your dreams, always just out of reach from your fingertips, to wake up with your face in a tear-dampened pillow.
You see him next as you head out onto the streets, two and a half owners later, with your brother's face so fucking blurry in your mind's eye that you can barely remember what he looks like. You were at the market in search of silk for your stylist owner - blue-green silk, not green-blue, that distinction was very important - when you hear soulless laughter. For some reason you turned to the sound and you see the face of your brother disappear into the jacket of a burly man (who you recognize as someone you once served, who treated you kindly) with fangs like a wolf; the man is grinning down at him, seemingly content, and your brother's posture is relaxed and calm, but still your fury rises; you walk towards them and your brother lifts his head when the wolf-man speaks to you, wondering who you belong to; and the look on his face was so distant, so calm that tears roll down your cheeks and you start screaming - wordless shrieks that rise in pitch and causes Peacekeepers to descend onto your furiously shaking body (and why couldn't you move? Why didn't you break free and lunge for him, when he was so close, when he was just there, you could have held onto him and never let go, why are you so stupid why didn't you do anything why why why?). They drag you 'home', though what is home when you have no family to call your own? When you're only a slave?
Your owner disciplines you, but even her creativity cannot stop you from waking up screaming in terrified rage in the middle of the night, with your brother's politely confused face in the bright light of your mind's eye.
You're sent back to your handler but all of his ministrations cannot stop your body-wracking sobs. You're hooked up to a machine that puts you into a deep, dreamless sleep and you rest.
When you wake up next you cannot remember your own name. Your new owners call you 'pet' and you eagerly lap up their affections like an affection-starved pup, almost purring when they lay their hands on your head gently with proud smiles. Still there remains a sense of wrongness about your existence and you wonder about it in the times when you're left alone, poke and prod but you cannot remember for the life of you why everything feels so wrong when it's all so right.
But you live through it and rush to serve your owners, who often touch the scar on your eye and tell you that it's a pity you cannot see. But you don't care because they treat you well, run their hands through your hair and press kisses to your forehead and you beam at them like there's nothing else you'd rather do.
(You cannot get rid of the wrongness and you cannot remember why it is wrong, and you think on it occasionally, but Avoxes should not have thoughts; you wonder why the image of the young brilliant boy with a beautiful smile makes you sad, but you do not dwell. You move along with your life, because this is who you are.
You are an Avox, and they call you 'Pet'.)
But you won't see me fall apart
[attr="class","AlysGSlider"]
wc: 902
Alyssa Gene Gray
you did not break me
wc: 902
