Simply Me

         One two three. One two three. One two three.
         Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum.
         The music plays over and over in my head until my heart and blood pulse out the rhythm. I want to puke. Want to scream. I want to...
         I don’t. My hands clench around my ears as I rock to and fro to the beat of the song…such a simple little tune. Annoying.
         Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum.
         I won’t scream. I won’t scream. I won’t scream.
         “MAKE IT STOP!” My voice, hoarse from the tube they shoved down my throat earlier, protests my voices sudden burst of strength. I claw at my hair, my eyes, my body. My head bangs into the white padded wall hard enough to leave a splattering of red paint on it, bright compared to the dull-once-red-paint splatters. A metallic smell fills the air with its enticing aroma as the door opens. The logical side of me knew that they would come. People with no feelings, no flaws…people who want to fix me. I am imperfect. I am simple, not complex.
         I am me. I am me. I am me.
         Three syllables. Three words.
         My mind goes into that dark corner where few memories reside. Happier memories. Memories of a time when I wasn’t imperfect. I was normal. When I screamed…it was because of the proverbial boogeyman in the closet not because I was slowly being driven mad. It hurts less when I do that. When I remember the little I know of my mind. There are four of them that I know of and they call themselves the Blades of Whispering. I only know them by what they call themselves in my presence. Whether this is their real names I don’t know.
Torture, he loves to hear me scream and always comes up with a couple more ways to do that. I can always tell when it’s Torture because there is always a smell of blood, a metallic sweetness. That and the fact he is the only one that has peircings and tattoos along one side of his face.
         Fury always slaps me around with the excuse “I’m sorry but you make me so angry”. The weird thing about Fury is the fact there is never a frown on his face. He reminds me of a kid playing dress up with their parents’ clothes; the way the shirts he wears are always longer than his arms.
         Fear, she is Fury’s twin due to the fact I’ve only heard those two talk. I swear though where Fury is homicidal and abusive, Fear has the tactic of making you suicidal by diving deep into your mind and pulling out your deepest fears. If there’s none to be found then Fear will make some.
         The last one I have never actually seen. Death stays in the shadows. I am not sure where he/she belongs and I can’t tell whether he/she is male or female. Sometimes I only think there are three because Death is so silent and never has given a hint of insanity like the others. The only clue Death is there is the heavy scent of decaying bodies. Death has never tortured me, yet I find that even more unnerving.
All four enter, three by the slamming of the door, one by shadow. Fury growls, features hidden by his overly large clothes and hood. He touches the perfumed paint and grips my chin hard enough that I know there’ll be five little purple and black flowers blooming afterwards. That’s what I call them, but I know they’re called something different.
         I forget. I forget. I forget.
         Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum.
         “Pl-Please make it stop.” I whisper clutching my ears desperately. What is it? I can’t remember anymore. All I know is I wanted something to stop. My throat hurts and my mind can’t think straight. Was it a sound? A…melody? Yes, the tune.
         Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum.
         “Argh…you just had to scream, my little flower.” Fury backhands me and my head whiplashes and I see stars. I wonder if I wish on one to get me out of here…
         “You won’t be going anywhere till you learn,” comes Fear’s wispy voice right next to my ear. Somewhere deep within me a voice in agreement. Remind me again why I fight.
         Why I fight. Why I fight. Why I fight.
         Damn…I hate echoes and that stupid song. The darkness is pain. I don’t think that’s what they want to ‘teach’ me.
         Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum.
* * * * *
         There is darkness and that is all. Distantly a memory resurfaces a light in the painful darkness, in the form of a small boy’s voice. It comes in the form of words that are the mumbling slurred speech of a drunk underwater. I am in so mauch pain I can’t move and do not wish to concentrate on figuring out what needs to be figured out. If I do then I will find a new place they have tortured so I just huddle there listening to that simple tune.
         Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum.
         The door opens slowly and I jerk out of the hazy pain afraid instantly that I had made a sound. I don’t think I did. Was I humming to the song? The annoyingly addicting song? I move slowly as my mind registers a voice talking to me.
         “Don’t make a sound, Little One.” The voice whispered as I felt hands rub a soothing ointment onto the flowers and sources of red paint. Why did the voice want to cover up such beauty? Slowly the pain melted away in a sea of warmth and I gradually fell into the darkness one called sleep.
         I want sleep. I want sleep. I want sleep.
* * * * *
         I do not know what I dreamt but I remember there was the perfume. It surrounded and drowned me in its peace. The darkness in me reigns over the light in me again. Such a sweet scent takes me over so that I am addicted to the pain that comes with the sweetness and scenes that come with every cut and slash. There are scenery and unknown things when I feel pain.
         I am transported to another time, another place where I am the god there. Things die and feel the same pain I do except instead of pleasure they scream in pain. It makes me angry. These four legged things do not see as I see. They do not feel as I feel. Is this not my world for me to control?
         So I hurt them more. Understand, I howl at them, this is not punishment. It is a rebirthing.
         Rebirthing. Rebirthing. Rebirthing.
         Still they do not understand then I see her. The red headed girl who walks with metal strapped to her arms. An eye patch covers her left eye and the other is a penatrating color that makes me feel as if she can see everything I am doing. Is it so wrong for me to show the creatures of my world how to live? To show them the beauties of the dark pain that dwells within us all?
         “Who are you?” she says and stumbles forward with a concentration frown on her features. My heart beats faster as an incredible urge to help this pitiful thing that had to go through tremendous pain. Slowly I reach out to her and simply touch her skin as the most exquisite pain overcomes my body. Darkness fills my vision and I am in darkness once again.
* * * * *
         There is so much light surrounding me. It burns my hair, my face, my hands. It is greedy and wants me. Why? Why must you hurt me light? The walls of the castle crash around me and I realize where I am. I am home. Is this home anymore? No, this is where I came from not where I belong. I belong in the darkness. The light flares up in bright colors angry at me for choosing to stay in the darkness but those familiar hands jerk me harshly into my home. The painful darkness. I do not wish to go back into those memories again, memories about the light. That light burns and hurts my insides. The darkness is better, I can deal with its causing my body pain.
* * * * *
         “Aneki, it’s time to get up now,” my older brother’s voice says urgently. It’s kind of
funny that his nickname for me meant literally ‘elder sister’. But this is not possible; I argue with myself, he died in the explosion at the castle years ago. At least that’s what I am told by Fear.
         “What for? If I die then they won’t win.” Let’s amuse this illusion. This sample of my mind trying to keep me sane. Get my mind off the light that I had hurt.
         “They are winning. Don’t you see?”
         “I want to be with you brother, not here anymore.”
         “Whoever said I was dead, Aneki?”
         My body complains with aches and pains as I look at a four-bladed spinning object and it blows cool breath down on my skin. I close my eyes in brief relief than snap them open as I jerk upright, a soft material falling to pool at my waist. What happened to the white padded walls and dull paint splatters? My head is empty, a room with nothing to fill it. Where the hell was I? Ever so slowly, my mind moves my legs to the edge of the bed to the cold wood floor. I like the fact I can fell the cold. It’s not the overly warm of the white padded room.
         The room I stand in is smaller than the white padded room, with lamps in three corners letting out a soft welcoming glow, a dresser of fake painted wood with a few knobs missing and the bed from which I got out of shoved against one corner. If I had to guess I could probably walk twenty steps for the room’s width and thirty in length. But my attention was on the lamps; there was something about them that made my mind itch with the promise of memories. It wasn’t the warm feeling I got when talking to my brother, but rather the chill of terror stroking you down the back and laughing in your ear when you scream.
         When you scream. When you scream. When you scream.
         My thoughts are echoing inside my head now, I am so hoping that it has all been a bad dream and I’ll wake up and know my past and family. My being forgetful would all be just some streak of make believe.
         Make believe. Make believe. Make believe.
         Stop it, mind, stop the echoes, stop teasing, just stop it.
         Just stop it. Just stop it. Just stop it.
* * * * *
         “Stop it you little heathen.” The boy, about eight or nine, growls at a younger me who is pointing the hose at him with her thumb over the end to make it spray further. The boy’s dirty blonde almost light brown hair is made darker by the water and soaks our father’s expensive clothes so it is ruined.
         “Stop it you little heathen.”
         “Just stop.”
         “Just stop.”
         “Just stop it!”
         “Just stop it!”
         The boy, huffing and puffing, his light blue eyes icy, walks past her and pushes her down before walking indoors and shaking himself off. Sunshine spills behind him making him dark and mysterious as the wind pushes at his back before the sun could burn him. I look at him, teary sky blue eyes and lip quivering, as the water soaks the skirt of my sundress. “I was onl-“
         “Young Master! Your father’s clothes are positively ruined.” Comes our nanny, Nana, her form distressed at the current sight. I knew this would be his revenge. He would get me in so much trouble with Nana because I purposely sprayed my brother. Brother wouldn’t give me a simple peck on the cheek. Daddy’s and mommy’s always kissed each other good-bye. The familiar click click click of father’s expensive shoes echoes in the silence. He looks at Nana with such distaste I want to step in front of our Nana.
         Oh fudge, I thought suddenly remembering my father’s ruined clothes that my brother was wearing, he is going to get revenge.
         “And you, son, why are you wearing my clothes and ruined it?” he was a big burly man with a shadowed face and wide mouth. I shudder at my brother who glances at me.
         “I fell into a puddle father. I am sorry.” He turns his head to wink at me and offer a small smile.
* * * * *
         It’s kind of funny to think the only thing I remember of my father is his wide mouth and angular jaw. I try and have tried multiple times to remember more about him with little luck. Remembering father doesn’t bother me as much as it should for us, brother and I, always had our Nana for parents.
         I hold my head covering my eye socket where four, three to be fair since Death never actually participated, had removed my eye. They had been talking about inserting another to see if they couldn’t make me see double, something about a stupid myth of being able to see what the donor sees and screwing with the brain. I don’t know much more than the fact that they kept talking about thirteen. Thirteen what? Heck if I know…
         The memory shakes me up. I am now a bottle of… what do they call it? Soda. The way the foam fizzles and tickles when you drink it. Like drinking air? That’s how I felt. I was drinking air. I am drunk with it. There is a single creaking step outside the door and the feeling vanishes. Once again I am just a human who knows nothing of her past, except a few tidbits, and missing one eye. I am so stupid.
         Stupid girl. Stupid girl. Stupid girl.
         “Just shut up or else I will blow you out against the wall with an exploding stick.” I mutter as I go to the door to open it and it slams into my face. Pain explodes and I scream out in agony holding the side of my face. My body bursts into memories of what Torture, Fury, and Fear had done. Weeks turned into months, months blended into years, and years into whenever they opened the door. The human contact pleased my body where my mind hated them.
         “Oh my. I am so sorry.” A male’s voice comes through the stars and bright lights as I blink and then blink again. The memories and pain dull to bearable.
         He smiles. “Well I was just coming to wake you up for bacon and eggs. I believe Dinarica left some toast.” Dirty blonde hair and once light blue eyes. They were now more…something. Older is the closest word I can describe. They aren’t the care-free icy blue eyes I remember, but rather the grayish-blue of a stormy sea. As if he is going through so many emotions he can’t decide which one to be. No, it couldn’t be…
         “Food?” I ask stupidly. This is not the real question I want to ask. I want to ask his name, his parent’s name, if he had a sister who disappeared months maybe even years ago.
         “Yes, of course food.” He holds out his hand and I bite my lip hesitantly reaching out than jerking back and scolding myself before taking the hand lightly. He leads me through this house assuredly to a bright little kitchen that looked to be out of a…uh…magazine. I smile as he seats me and I realize how happy and normal he is.
         The happiness, a butterfly feeling in ones gut, is a cancer taking over and killing you with laughter. I should know. Being around brother and his dog, a golden lab, is death by laughter. After breakfast I glimpse a gun by the door. A small one, but one none the less; glinting deadly in the soft light coming in through thin curtains. The house is small and homely. In a few simple hours of talking I am home. I am happy but not free.
         But not free. But not free. But not free.
         “Ummm…Your name…” My voice hesitates to come out of its safety within my throat.
         “It’s not important.” He states looking back at me and it reminds me of how I feel with Death’s stare on my skin. I am dunked in oily goo trying to swim up to the surface but choking. Always choking…
         I shake my head violently to rid myself of this feeling as I hug him…there is one sure way to find out if he’s truly my brother.
         I kissed his cheek.
         He bolts and I want to laugh in sheer joy. It is my heroine and I have overdosed. Yes!, I think, Fear WAS lying! My face breaks into a smile. Happiness is short-lived despite the fact that it is addicting. You keep taking more and more…
         My skin is tight and holding in my soul. I am ok though. I will fight through it.
         Fight through it. Fight through it. Fight through it.
         He relaxes now that he doesn’t have to break the news that he is my brother. At least I think that’s the reason. Maybe not.
         We are walking down a road littered with people who don’t know where they want to go. I am not like them anymore. As long as my brother is by my side I know I will figure things out eventually and the memories can take their sweet time. He takes me to a store where he says we can buy clothes.
         “Brother wait a minute…” a sudden thought comes to mind.
         “Yes, Aneki?” he asks suddenly tense. I don’t like that. The brother I knew never tensed. Then again…I don’t know my brother anymore.
         “How did you find me?”
         “I didn’t. Dinarica did. We were walking out in the forest behind the house, I take her out every morning, and she starts to do this low whining growl that she did last time I saw father. We had words, this was a couple years after you disappeared, and he disowns me so I can’t have the title of ‘Lord’ anymore. Not like I want it. Anyway, I start thinking ‘Oh crap someone has finally killed him and I’ll have to take the royal house under my wing. I don’t even belong there anymore.’ Then she starts barking and runs up to your body. You were laying in a puddle of blood with a scalpel clutched to your chest as if the Holy Grail. I don’t know what happened after the explosion or why you had appeared there at this time. I was just happy to have you back.” He whispered frowning and when he stopped he was smiling at me.
         Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum. Duh duh dum.
         There is a pounding in my head, but I manage to shove it down as my brother escorts me inside a building filled with clothes on racks and shelves. The overly cheerful lady suggests what to get for me and my brother just nods and smiles and waves a hand. I am automatic. Putting on whatever is given to me.
         Clothe. Discard. Repeat.
         Clothe. Discard. Repeat.
         Clothe. Discard. Repeat.
         All the while my mind is elsewhere. Come you stubborn mass of tissue, I scold my mind, remember what it is I have forgotten.
         Remember. Remember. Forgotten.
         Remember. Remember. Forgotten.
         Remember. Remember. Forgotten.
         “You won’t be going till you learn.” My head throbs worse than before and I look at myself in the looking glass trying to push back the pain. It’s not me I see. It’s Death. He stands there emotionlessly and learns out of the shadowed mirror.
Death puts a finger to wide lips resting upon an angular jaw and smiles blowing me a kiss. A chilling feeling comes over me and I am paralyzed. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything. Then he is gone and I am staring at myself, whiter than before. Warmed over Death…
* * * * *
         “Brother…why does father never acknowledge me?” says a teenage me.
         Acknowledge. Acknowledge. Acknowledge.
         “Personally I don’t know. He has shunned off the female presence since mother died giving the world you, or so he’s said to me.” My slightly older teenage brother says braiding my hair in the firelight. It is about time for darkness to descend upon the world.
         “Well than let’s go find out!”
         “No, Aneki…” he tries to grab my hand but grabs air as I run out into the courtyard entrance of the castle where I know he’ll be since he is leaving.
         “Father…wait I have a favor to ask…” I reach out a hand to him and he knocks it away. There is silence so thick one can hear a bird call from the other side of the world.
         “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.” Those wide lips say. Time stops but goes so fast I am flying.
         You’re filthy. You’re filthy. You’re filthy.
         Finally the truth comes out…
* * * * *
         I can’t move. My body is burning and the air is blades against my lungs.
         Breathing comes harder and harder. I am suffocating. It is black.
         Black darkness. Black darkness. Black darkness.
         It is silent. Silent like that day but I remember. I remember it all.
         Remember all. Remember all. Remember all.
         I was not born of brother’s mother…but rather the reason why my mother died is so the lord’s wife would not go insane from the stillbirth son she had had. I am only his half sister, a result of an affair between my father and his servant.
         You’re filthy. You’re filthy. You’re filthy.
         Yes, I am blackmail. I reminded him so much of his servant. Of his mistakes. My fault. Always my fault…maybe that is why he allowed me to be taken away by the Blades of Whispering. Since his beloved wife was gone…
         Distantly I hear…
         “Are you ok, Aneki?” Brother, my wonderful brother, I love you. If only you knew…the real truth. That I am only half of what you see.
         Only half real. Only half real. Only half real.
         “Are you ok, Aneki?” Laughter in my head, I now know why my mind hid from me the truth and they wanted me to remember. I can’t handle it. Now that I know.
         Now I know. Can’t handle it. Can’t handle.
         “Are you ok, Aneki?”