Here comes a candle to light you to bed [semiopen]
Who: Delirium, some very specific NPCS and a slew of other folks
Where: An apartment on the sketch side of town.
When: Directly following this.
Warnings: Violence, mind fuckery and rape. Potentially triggering events within main post.
Summary: Delirium asked the Network to kill a man for her. This is why and this is how it happened.
Format: Main post: tl;dr. Response posts: whatever you like.
Ever since she married Edward when she was just barely 18, Mary's life had... shrunk...
It had been so benign at first. Edward didn't want her to be out to late. It was dangerous in the City with, even before the cops disappeared. Then it was even more dangerous when the strange superpowered beings appeared, but Mary hadn't really been aware of them outside of the glimpses outside the window and of the newspaper and the tv, because Mary's world had continued to shrink. Because Edward didn't want her to go out at night. Edward didn't want her to go to work, it was for her own good. Edward didn't want her to leave the building.
The apartment.
Their room.
The closet.
2 feet by 3 feet. Tiny and dark and tiny and dark, she would sit in the corner or try to pace. One step forward. One step back. Two steps to the right. Two steps to the left. Repeat. For minutes. For hours. For days. Or just until her legs started to shake and she was stumbling in her little one-two step journies. Someone (she no longer remember who) had told her once that goldfish have 30 second memories. She imagined what that would be like, forever swimming in the same tiny bowl your entire life and forever discovering something new. She thought perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible thing to live like a goldfish.
And Edward was attentative. Edward loved her. Edward understood that strangers made her nervous, so he never brought anyone to the apartment. He let her out for two hours every night and the lights would hurt her eyes, so he would turn them off for her. He was kind that way. She couldn't do her chores with the lights on so bright, after all, and it was her duty to... she didn't remember. She didn't remember days or years and she wondered if maybe she had become a goldfish at last.
The first time she saw the girl, she remembered her childhood. Mary's parents had always said that she was a dreamer, that she was a little slow, but so creative. Her teachers had less complimentary things to say, but she didn't remember them for the most part. For the most part she remembered colors. The way the sky looked on clear summer days. The deep deep green of the leaves in the parks. The way the sunlight played over the colored glass of some of the big old chruches and the sound of the bells...
She could always hear them, the bells. Tiny beautiful notes and the big full tones. She wanted to move to a town where there was nothing but great big bell towers and wondered if such a place even existed. She collected them. All different sizes and shapes and colors and sounds and she would hold them up to the light and watch the way it played over the surface...
She didn't know where her bells were anymore... She could hear them sometimes, although it was soft now. So soft and far away... But they came back when the girl was there. And the girl was... strange. But not strange all at once. It was as if Mary had known her in some part of herself for her entire life. The girl was bright and small and beautiful, full of stained glass colors that Mary felt like she could just fall into. Fall into and be wrapped in the sound of bells forever.
"I can't go outside..." she said to the girl one day. Her voice sounded so strange to her own ears.
"Then you can go inside," said the girl, leaning close the way she did sometimes and staring so intensly at Mary. Goldfish and the silver flash of a ringing bell flickered in Mary's mind for an instant before she fell back. Fell in.
It was easier and it was harder. Easier because the little one-step-two-step journies weren't so bad anymore. The darkness wasn't so dark and the silence wasn't so heavy. It was harder because she began to want two things. She wanted real sunlight and she wanted to be able to touch. Edward... Edward never wanted her to touch him these days and the girl who pressed so fervently close to whisper things to her had reminded her how nice it was. How nice it was to hold hands and hugs and maybe even kiss. Edward didn't want those things. Not from her, anyway, or so he said. And Edward didn't want to let her outside.
And Edward became angry. "How dare you make demands of me, you ungrateful bitch."
Began turning on the lights in the middle of her trying to ask, trying to explain (and it was so hard, she so rarely talked to even Edward), turning on the lights and snarling when she flinched and grabbing her hands when she tried to sheild her eyes. "This is what you wanted isn't it? Isn't it?!"
And Mary learned that when she cried, Edward would hit her and shove her back into the tiny darkness. And when she scratched at the door (there wasn't a door knob, why wasn't there a door knob?) and banged on the door and begged, he would drag her out and hit her again.
"You desire," said the girl as she held Mary, "But it's different. It doesn't really understand this, you know? It's okay, I do." And she kissed her cheek and pressed something into her hands. Cold and sleek and delicate and it made such a pretty noise when she held it up. And then things weren't so bad anymore...
And then... And then... And then...
He was pulling her out of the darkness into a new, lighter darkness. Shaking her awake and he smelled so foul. His words were slurred and she couldn't make sense of them. Maybe he was sick, maybe he was- Pulling at her clothes, taking them off and she pushed at him, trying to shove his hands away from her. "Stop..."
"Shut up."
"I don't like-" He hit her. "Please." And he hit her. "No!" And he hit her.
And she tried, she tried so hard, because this was scary, this was strange, she didn't understand what he wanted, why he was doing this, but he was so much stronger than her and her hands felt so heavy and weak and he kept hitting her and touching her and talking, roaring in that strange slurred language and the stink was so overwhelming and it hurt and it hurt and she couldn't see and she just wanted it to end and thought maybe if she died it would.
And then it was over. And Mary curled up on her side. She didn't hear him leave, but she could feel it when the girl appeared. Could feel the anger and sorrow.
"I didn't want this," she said and her voice sounded even stranger than usual.
"I know." said the girl.
"He doesn't love me," she said and couldn't tell what the dampness was that was rolling down her face.
"No," said the girl.
"He isn't human," she said and her thighs felt sticky and the floorboards under her face felt sticky.
"I don't think so either," said the girl.
Mary pulled herself upright and looked down at the little shattered porcelain bell lying on the floor. "I want... I want him to die. I want him to scream the way he made me scream."
"He will," said Delirium.
Where: An apartment on the sketch side of town.
When: Directly following this.
Warnings: Violence, mind fuckery and rape. Potentially triggering events within main post.
Summary: Delirium asked the Network to kill a man for her. This is why and this is how it happened.
Format: Main post: tl;dr. Response posts: whatever you like.
Ever since she married Edward when she was just barely 18, Mary's life had... shrunk...
It had been so benign at first. Edward didn't want her to be out to late. It was dangerous in the City with, even before the cops disappeared. Then it was even more dangerous when the strange superpowered beings appeared, but Mary hadn't really been aware of them outside of the glimpses outside the window and of the newspaper and the tv, because Mary's world had continued to shrink. Because Edward didn't want her to go out at night. Edward didn't want her to go to work, it was for her own good. Edward didn't want her to leave the building.
The apartment.
Their room.
The closet.
2 feet by 3 feet. Tiny and dark and tiny and dark, she would sit in the corner or try to pace. One step forward. One step back. Two steps to the right. Two steps to the left. Repeat. For minutes. For hours. For days. Or just until her legs started to shake and she was stumbling in her little one-two step journies. Someone (she no longer remember who) had told her once that goldfish have 30 second memories. She imagined what that would be like, forever swimming in the same tiny bowl your entire life and forever discovering something new. She thought perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible thing to live like a goldfish.
And Edward was attentative. Edward loved her. Edward understood that strangers made her nervous, so he never brought anyone to the apartment. He let her out for two hours every night and the lights would hurt her eyes, so he would turn them off for her. He was kind that way. She couldn't do her chores with the lights on so bright, after all, and it was her duty to... she didn't remember. She didn't remember days or years and she wondered if maybe she had become a goldfish at last.
The first time she saw the girl, she remembered her childhood. Mary's parents had always said that she was a dreamer, that she was a little slow, but so creative. Her teachers had less complimentary things to say, but she didn't remember them for the most part. For the most part she remembered colors. The way the sky looked on clear summer days. The deep deep green of the leaves in the parks. The way the sunlight played over the colored glass of some of the big old chruches and the sound of the bells...
She could always hear them, the bells. Tiny beautiful notes and the big full tones. She wanted to move to a town where there was nothing but great big bell towers and wondered if such a place even existed. She collected them. All different sizes and shapes and colors and sounds and she would hold them up to the light and watch the way it played over the surface...
She didn't know where her bells were anymore... She could hear them sometimes, although it was soft now. So soft and far away... But they came back when the girl was there. And the girl was... strange. But not strange all at once. It was as if Mary had known her in some part of herself for her entire life. The girl was bright and small and beautiful, full of stained glass colors that Mary felt like she could just fall into. Fall into and be wrapped in the sound of bells forever.
"I can't go outside..." she said to the girl one day. Her voice sounded so strange to her own ears.
"Then you can go inside," said the girl, leaning close the way she did sometimes and staring so intensly at Mary. Goldfish and the silver flash of a ringing bell flickered in Mary's mind for an instant before she fell back. Fell in.
It was easier and it was harder. Easier because the little one-step-two-step journies weren't so bad anymore. The darkness wasn't so dark and the silence wasn't so heavy. It was harder because she began to want two things. She wanted real sunlight and she wanted to be able to touch. Edward... Edward never wanted her to touch him these days and the girl who pressed so fervently close to whisper things to her had reminded her how nice it was. How nice it was to hold hands and hugs and maybe even kiss. Edward didn't want those things. Not from her, anyway, or so he said. And Edward didn't want to let her outside.
And Edward became angry. "How dare you make demands of me, you ungrateful bitch."
Began turning on the lights in the middle of her trying to ask, trying to explain (and it was so hard, she so rarely talked to even Edward), turning on the lights and snarling when she flinched and grabbing her hands when she tried to sheild her eyes. "This is what you wanted isn't it? Isn't it?!"
And Mary learned that when she cried, Edward would hit her and shove her back into the tiny darkness. And when she scratched at the door (there wasn't a door knob, why wasn't there a door knob?) and banged on the door and begged, he would drag her out and hit her again.
"You desire," said the girl as she held Mary, "But it's different. It doesn't really understand this, you know? It's okay, I do." And she kissed her cheek and pressed something into her hands. Cold and sleek and delicate and it made such a pretty noise when she held it up. And then things weren't so bad anymore...
And then... And then... And then...
He was pulling her out of the darkness into a new, lighter darkness. Shaking her awake and he smelled so foul. His words were slurred and she couldn't make sense of them. Maybe he was sick, maybe he was- Pulling at her clothes, taking them off and she pushed at him, trying to shove his hands away from her. "Stop..."
"Shut up."
"I don't like-" He hit her. "Please." And he hit her. "No!" And he hit her.
And she tried, she tried so hard, because this was scary, this was strange, she didn't understand what he wanted, why he was doing this, but he was so much stronger than her and her hands felt so heavy and weak and he kept hitting her and touching her and talking, roaring in that strange slurred language and the stink was so overwhelming and it hurt and it hurt and she couldn't see and she just wanted it to end and thought maybe if she died it would.
And then it was over. And Mary curled up on her side. She didn't hear him leave, but she could feel it when the girl appeared. Could feel the anger and sorrow.
"I didn't want this," she said and her voice sounded even stranger than usual.
"I know." said the girl.
"He doesn't love me," she said and couldn't tell what the dampness was that was rolling down her face.
"No," said the girl.
"He isn't human," she said and her thighs felt sticky and the floorboards under her face felt sticky.
"I don't think so either," said the girl.
Mary pulled herself upright and looked down at the little shattered porcelain bell lying on the floor. "I want... I want him to die. I want him to scream the way he made me scream."
"He will," said Delirium.