"Colorless" - Part 8, Crumbling
Title: Colorless - Part 8, Crumbling
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, just to be safe. Angst, mourning, gender issues, violence, suicide references.
Notes: ...Those of you expecting a smackdown in this chapter - sorry about that. XD' I ended the last chapter as I did so that the scene wouldn't merely be a repeat of the beginning again.
This is...a pretty emotional chapter for Grell. Things are going badly, and she has to work out just what it is she's going to do now...and with things as bleak as they are, one option seems awfully inviting.
Thanks for shoebandit for giving me a beta read, and thanks to seigakussiren for her support. <3 And, as always, thanks to my readers for sticking with me! Bonus thank-you for those of you who picked up the gender-pronoun shift so well...it makes me smile when I see people other than myself refer to Grell as a 'she.' <3333
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or Grell. This version of the backstory, however, and many characters contained within, are my own creation.
Part 8 - Crumbling
"If I had another place to go,
Would you break me, is it that you know
I have no choice but to rebuild again?
I'm tied so hard I can't remember when
I last walked free upon these feet of mine,
But I'll draw the line,
There will come a Time,
When I am stronger...
Your words won't hurt any longer....
But would you tear my castle down,
Stone by stone?
And let the wind run through my windows
'Til there is nothing left but a battered rose...?" -- "Castle Down," Emilie Autumn
The week had gone no better than that first day back at the lessons. She had come home that first day with a black eye and some healthy bruises on her forearms - and without getting the chance to teach any of the children. It was for their sake that she returned the next day, and then the next...holding out hope that still one of them would still come for their lessons just as they always did.
Steadily, however, the hope dwindled. Day after day was the same ordeal; the children would simply not come at all, or worse, their parents would arrive instead, livid and berating Grell for the perverse things they insisted she must have done. She did cry at first...but after a couple of days, she merely stood in silence and took it, trying to carry herself with dignity as she was shouted at and spat upon.
Finally one week had passed - and not one of her students had remained. With a heavy heart, she had returned to the old brownstone, worry misting her hazel eyes more than the sting of her bumps and bruises.
They were all gone. Beyond missing the children, Grell was now also without a singular source of income. Her parents had left her with their debt...it had been a struggle to keep the house even with the lessons, but now?
Hanging her coat on a peg by the door, she staggered down the hall and into her own room, teetering on her high-heeled boots. The house was so empty and quiet that she could scarcely stand it - the very ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to be accusing her. Biting her lip, she approached her phonograph, selecting the loudest piece of music that she could find and setting it to play. As the sound of an orchestra filled the air, she was finally able to calm herself somewhat, moving to sit in an old wooden chair at the end of her bed to remove her shoes.
Her room was very like her, she had often thought. Plain and unremarkable - and largely forgotten. When her parents had taken ill, she scarcely slept in it, favoring instead to sleep in the hall where she could hear them. The furniture was simple and wooden, with nothing interesting about it to catch the eye...even the bed sheets were of a plain brown. Likely the most notable thing about the room was the old phonograph sitting in the corner...but even that seemed rather grayed out and boring when there was no music playing.
Still, as dreary as it was...it all seemed so much more precious and welcoming when she considered that she may not be able to remain in this place for long. Settling her boots on the ground, she heaved a frustrated sigh, staring at an empty point on the wall. What could she do? Her reputation - or what little of it she had - was now in shambles due to her decision...and the way gossip tended to travel, there was little doubt it would be impossible to find new work in any familiar circles.
Sniffling on tears that began anew, she stood, shuffling down the hall and towards the washroom. Looking down as she walked, she watched the way that her black skirt twisted about her legs...but, more notably, the way that she seemed to be more sure-footed now than she had been. She felt more comfortable with herself than she ever had now - far more confident as a woman than she had ever been as a man. Why didn't anyone understand that?
Gazing at herself in the mirror over the sink, she grimaced at her appearance...her crying had made her makeup run, her already bruised eye appearing dark and puffy - hardly ladylike. Giving a little sigh, she reached up to where her hair was tied back into a neat coil, letting it tumble down around her shoulders. The bruises that littered her body ached, her stomach twisted into a tight knot...she was a wreck, and she needed to stop and try to think things through.
Hands shaking, she fumbled to draw a bath, watching numbly as the steaming water began to fill the tub. Perhaps a nice soak would soothe her nerves. She hadn't really taken a hot bath to relax in a long time...and who knew how long it would be before she wouldn't be able -
She shook herself, trying to banish the thought with a short, confused cry. Listening to the record still playing in the other room, she began to undress, removing her white gloves and undoing the buttons of her dress with trembling fingers. Unceremoniously, she let the fabric slide to the floor, watching herself in the mirror...staring at her lanky body with a certain bitterness. She was supposed to be a woman - she knew she was - but...her body was wrong. All wrong.
Stripping completely, she turned off the tap, stepping into the water and wincing as her wounds gave a throb. A hiss escaped her as she sunk further down, sitting back in the tub and resting her head against the side. Letting her hazel eyes drift towards the crumbled old ceiling, Grell began to try and work things over in her head.
It was clear that she was now without a job. Word of this would travel, and it was likely that she would never have another music class. Where, then, could she even begin? She had no other real skills to offer beyond teaching music. She was too clumsy for most work, and even if she found something, it would take little for a friend of her parents to recognize her. As long as she persisted in her decision, she would only be thought mad...perhaps even carted away to an asylum, if she spoke out any more.
Still...she couldn't face the alternative. Grell Sutcliff, the timid, utterly forgettable boy, was dead and buried along with his parents. There was no way that she could dredge him up again...no way that she could live that way, even if there was a chance she would be accepted. She couldn't lie to herself like that...not anymore.
Frustrated, she cried out, bringing her hands suddenly to her head and sending water flying out onto the bathroom floor.
"DAMN IT! WHY?" The sound of her own voice almost startled her - low and masculine. It disgusted her, and she snarled at nothing, her temper dwindling. "WHY can't they just UNDERSTAND that I am a WOMAN?"
Wrenching her hands back away from her hair, she stared at them - thin, soft. They looked enough like a woman's hands...but they weren't. No matter how much she felt like a woman on the inside...no matter how much she knew she was meant to be female...her body was still contrary to the fact. She didn't have breasts. She couldn't have children. She was trapped in a form that would always make a liar of her.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she screamed out, voice choked with tears. "WHY was I born in the WRONG BODY?" Breaking down, she sobbed wordlessly, her thin form shaking and her eyes wrenching shut. Inadvertently, she slipped against the side of the tub - and her eyes opened just in time to watch the water level rise as her head slid under. Choking in surprise, she sat bolt upright, coughing up water and clutching at her throat.
After a moment, the panic subsided, only the stray coughs that shook her frame lingering. Grell stared down into the water, thoughts dimly drifting and forming in her head. It wouldn't be long before something happened, and she knew it. All it would take would be a day or two and she would be facing down that debt that she couldn't pay - she would be evicted, her parents' things sold off...or she may even be declared insane and taken away by those who had berated and screamed at her this whole week.
She would have nothing either way...she had no one. No friends...no family. Soon she would have no home, or would only have a cell to look forward to where no one would visit her.
Shutting her eyes, she drew a deep breath, allowing herself to slide under the water once more. It would be like Ophelia, she told herself. It would be poetic. They thought her mad anyhow, didn't they? What would it matter? Only a few moments and it would be over. No one would care, would they? She was nothing to them but something to be gawked at and spat upon...she had never been much in the first place.
Still...despite all these thoughts, she couldn't quite bring herself to let go, still holding her breath as she lay there. She couldn't help but think about what would happen afterward...not to her soul, but to her body. No one was going to come to visit...she wouldn't be found until someone forced their way into the house. No one would cry for her now...no one would care that she was gone.
...She would be dying for nothing, in place of living with nothing.
Pulling herself out of the water again, she gasped for air, shaking with the thoughts of what she had nearly done. She just couldn't take her life...not when it would mean nothing at all to do so. Not when there was no one who would speak up to try and stop her.
Weakly, she finally took up the soap, scrubbing away the makeup and gingerly wiping over the bruises. She thought very little as she worked the suds through her dark hair, crying silent, broken tears that dribbled into the bathwater. She took very little time to get rinsed off, very much so wishing to get out of the water as quickly as possible...and the moment she was done, she pulled the plug out, letting the water drain as she stepped out.
When she moved to grab for a towel, she missed her footing, sliding on the tile to awkwardly fall against the sink - just barely grabbing on to catch herself and landing eye-to-eye with her own reflection. Struggling to pull herself up, she stared at herself once again, the makeup now cleaned away...the bruising now dark and ugly around her left eye. Still...even without her makeup, now that she really looked...her features were feminine enough. Her body may be male...but at least...she could hide that fact.
If she did it right...then perhaps...the people she would meet anew would think her a woman from the start. Then, just maybe, they wouldn't be so cruel...they wouldn't want to tear her down straight away. Maybe...maybe she could find her way, if she wiped her past clean - if she banished all traces of that timid boy once and for all.
Tearing her gaze away, she wrapped herself in a towel, moving out of the room with resolve in her eyes. This place...soon enough, she would be forced out, one way or another. It wasn't hers anyhow...it was his.
It was only right that she would leave it behind.
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, just to be safe. Angst, mourning, gender issues, violence, suicide references.
Notes: ...Those of you expecting a smackdown in this chapter - sorry about that. XD' I ended the last chapter as I did so that the scene wouldn't merely be a repeat of the beginning again.
This is...a pretty emotional chapter for Grell. Things are going badly, and she has to work out just what it is she's going to do now...and with things as bleak as they are, one option seems awfully inviting.
Thanks for shoebandit for giving me a beta read, and thanks to seigakussiren for her support. <3 And, as always, thanks to my readers for sticking with me! Bonus thank-you for those of you who picked up the gender-pronoun shift so well...it makes me smile when I see people other than myself refer to Grell as a 'she.' <3333
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or Grell. This version of the backstory, however, and many characters contained within, are my own creation.
Part 8 - Crumbling
"If I had another place to go,
Would you break me, is it that you know
I have no choice but to rebuild again?
I'm tied so hard I can't remember when
I last walked free upon these feet of mine,
But I'll draw the line,
There will come a Time,
When I am stronger...
Your words won't hurt any longer....
But would you tear my castle down,
Stone by stone?
And let the wind run through my windows
'Til there is nothing left but a battered rose...?" -- "Castle Down," Emilie Autumn
The week had gone no better than that first day back at the lessons. She had come home that first day with a black eye and some healthy bruises on her forearms - and without getting the chance to teach any of the children. It was for their sake that she returned the next day, and then the next...holding out hope that still one of them would still come for their lessons just as they always did.
Steadily, however, the hope dwindled. Day after day was the same ordeal; the children would simply not come at all, or worse, their parents would arrive instead, livid and berating Grell for the perverse things they insisted she must have done. She did cry at first...but after a couple of days, she merely stood in silence and took it, trying to carry herself with dignity as she was shouted at and spat upon.
Finally one week had passed - and not one of her students had remained. With a heavy heart, she had returned to the old brownstone, worry misting her hazel eyes more than the sting of her bumps and bruises.
They were all gone. Beyond missing the children, Grell was now also without a singular source of income. Her parents had left her with their debt...it had been a struggle to keep the house even with the lessons, but now?
Hanging her coat on a peg by the door, she staggered down the hall and into her own room, teetering on her high-heeled boots. The house was so empty and quiet that she could scarcely stand it - the very ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to be accusing her. Biting her lip, she approached her phonograph, selecting the loudest piece of music that she could find and setting it to play. As the sound of an orchestra filled the air, she was finally able to calm herself somewhat, moving to sit in an old wooden chair at the end of her bed to remove her shoes.
Her room was very like her, she had often thought. Plain and unremarkable - and largely forgotten. When her parents had taken ill, she scarcely slept in it, favoring instead to sleep in the hall where she could hear them. The furniture was simple and wooden, with nothing interesting about it to catch the eye...even the bed sheets were of a plain brown. Likely the most notable thing about the room was the old phonograph sitting in the corner...but even that seemed rather grayed out and boring when there was no music playing.
Still, as dreary as it was...it all seemed so much more precious and welcoming when she considered that she may not be able to remain in this place for long. Settling her boots on the ground, she heaved a frustrated sigh, staring at an empty point on the wall. What could she do? Her reputation - or what little of it she had - was now in shambles due to her decision...and the way gossip tended to travel, there was little doubt it would be impossible to find new work in any familiar circles.
Sniffling on tears that began anew, she stood, shuffling down the hall and towards the washroom. Looking down as she walked, she watched the way that her black skirt twisted about her legs...but, more notably, the way that she seemed to be more sure-footed now than she had been. She felt more comfortable with herself than she ever had now - far more confident as a woman than she had ever been as a man. Why didn't anyone understand that?
Gazing at herself in the mirror over the sink, she grimaced at her appearance...her crying had made her makeup run, her already bruised eye appearing dark and puffy - hardly ladylike. Giving a little sigh, she reached up to where her hair was tied back into a neat coil, letting it tumble down around her shoulders. The bruises that littered her body ached, her stomach twisted into a tight knot...she was a wreck, and she needed to stop and try to think things through.
Hands shaking, she fumbled to draw a bath, watching numbly as the steaming water began to fill the tub. Perhaps a nice soak would soothe her nerves. She hadn't really taken a hot bath to relax in a long time...and who knew how long it would be before she wouldn't be able -
She shook herself, trying to banish the thought with a short, confused cry. Listening to the record still playing in the other room, she began to undress, removing her white gloves and undoing the buttons of her dress with trembling fingers. Unceremoniously, she let the fabric slide to the floor, watching herself in the mirror...staring at her lanky body with a certain bitterness. She was supposed to be a woman - she knew she was - but...her body was wrong. All wrong.
Stripping completely, she turned off the tap, stepping into the water and wincing as her wounds gave a throb. A hiss escaped her as she sunk further down, sitting back in the tub and resting her head against the side. Letting her hazel eyes drift towards the crumbled old ceiling, Grell began to try and work things over in her head.
It was clear that she was now without a job. Word of this would travel, and it was likely that she would never have another music class. Where, then, could she even begin? She had no other real skills to offer beyond teaching music. She was too clumsy for most work, and even if she found something, it would take little for a friend of her parents to recognize her. As long as she persisted in her decision, she would only be thought mad...perhaps even carted away to an asylum, if she spoke out any more.
Still...she couldn't face the alternative. Grell Sutcliff, the timid, utterly forgettable boy, was dead and buried along with his parents. There was no way that she could dredge him up again...no way that she could live that way, even if there was a chance she would be accepted. She couldn't lie to herself like that...not anymore.
Frustrated, she cried out, bringing her hands suddenly to her head and sending water flying out onto the bathroom floor.
"DAMN IT! WHY?" The sound of her own voice almost startled her - low and masculine. It disgusted her, and she snarled at nothing, her temper dwindling. "WHY can't they just UNDERSTAND that I am a WOMAN?"
Wrenching her hands back away from her hair, she stared at them - thin, soft. They looked enough like a woman's hands...but they weren't. No matter how much she felt like a woman on the inside...no matter how much she knew she was meant to be female...her body was still contrary to the fact. She didn't have breasts. She couldn't have children. She was trapped in a form that would always make a liar of her.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she screamed out, voice choked with tears. "WHY was I born in the WRONG BODY?" Breaking down, she sobbed wordlessly, her thin form shaking and her eyes wrenching shut. Inadvertently, she slipped against the side of the tub - and her eyes opened just in time to watch the water level rise as her head slid under. Choking in surprise, she sat bolt upright, coughing up water and clutching at her throat.
After a moment, the panic subsided, only the stray coughs that shook her frame lingering. Grell stared down into the water, thoughts dimly drifting and forming in her head. It wouldn't be long before something happened, and she knew it. All it would take would be a day or two and she would be facing down that debt that she couldn't pay - she would be evicted, her parents' things sold off...or she may even be declared insane and taken away by those who had berated and screamed at her this whole week.
She would have nothing either way...she had no one. No friends...no family. Soon she would have no home, or would only have a cell to look forward to where no one would visit her.
Shutting her eyes, she drew a deep breath, allowing herself to slide under the water once more. It would be like Ophelia, she told herself. It would be poetic. They thought her mad anyhow, didn't they? What would it matter? Only a few moments and it would be over. No one would care, would they? She was nothing to them but something to be gawked at and spat upon...she had never been much in the first place.
Still...despite all these thoughts, she couldn't quite bring herself to let go, still holding her breath as she lay there. She couldn't help but think about what would happen afterward...not to her soul, but to her body. No one was going to come to visit...she wouldn't be found until someone forced their way into the house. No one would cry for her now...no one would care that she was gone.
...She would be dying for nothing, in place of living with nothing.
Pulling herself out of the water again, she gasped for air, shaking with the thoughts of what she had nearly done. She just couldn't take her life...not when it would mean nothing at all to do so. Not when there was no one who would speak up to try and stop her.
Weakly, she finally took up the soap, scrubbing away the makeup and gingerly wiping over the bruises. She thought very little as she worked the suds through her dark hair, crying silent, broken tears that dribbled into the bathwater. She took very little time to get rinsed off, very much so wishing to get out of the water as quickly as possible...and the moment she was done, she pulled the plug out, letting the water drain as she stepped out.
When she moved to grab for a towel, she missed her footing, sliding on the tile to awkwardly fall against the sink - just barely grabbing on to catch herself and landing eye-to-eye with her own reflection. Struggling to pull herself up, she stared at herself once again, the makeup now cleaned away...the bruising now dark and ugly around her left eye. Still...even without her makeup, now that she really looked...her features were feminine enough. Her body may be male...but at least...she could hide that fact.
If she did it right...then perhaps...the people she would meet anew would think her a woman from the start. Then, just maybe, they wouldn't be so cruel...they wouldn't want to tear her down straight away. Maybe...maybe she could find her way, if she wiped her past clean - if she banished all traces of that timid boy once and for all.
Tearing her gaze away, she wrapped herself in a towel, moving out of the room with resolve in her eyes. This place...soon enough, she would be forced out, one way or another. It wasn't hers anyhow...it was his.
It was only right that she would leave it behind.