Email: Duossolo@aol.com

Website: www.oocities.org/asukalangley2^nd/

Disclaimer: Nope... don't own "Somewhere" by VAST

Notes: Originally, this was a Gundam fic... then it went to Eva... then it just was. I guess... it's whatever you want it to be. I still look at it like it's Duo's voice though... especially with the hair comment.

Lock and Key

Every time I cry out
No one ever comes to me



I’ve screamed until my throat was raw, clawed until my fingernails turned crimson with old blood, and no one came to see me. I suppose I know why, know why I am alone; they all left days ago, abandoned me to this old house in the middle of nowhere, the kind that creaks in the middle of the night as it settles in the darkness. You know the type.

I successfully scratched away two different layers of wallpaper, showing a glimpse of a dirty beige drywall beneath between the ragged strips. It glares back at me like a swimming eyeball or a…

I’m not even going to say it. Somewhere, I can hear the soft drip of something hitting the floor beside me, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s my own blood. Fancy that, right?

God, why did they leave me, leave me to wander aimlessly around the numerous bedrooms with nothing in them but a random bed or couch? Why couldn’t they take me with them, let me hitch a ride on their dreams and their adventures, instead of holing me up in the middle of nowhere? Do they hate me that much?



Every time that I reach out
No one ever rescues me



I want to tell you that I wasn’t always like this, a little off the deep end, a little insane, a little unhappy when I’m smiling. I used to be a kid with dreams, a kid with parents and friends, and ideas of Santa Claus and angels and some proverbial being that cared and watched over all the speckled human race with an unconditional love that surpassed all. I used to play in the streets and get grounded, used to have toy cars that I made zoom, used to have a bear that I drug ‘round with me everywhere.

But then I grew up, the walls were painted with small handprints of the deepest passion, and I blocked half of it out, aside from where my mother held the ancient Colt .45 to her thumping temple and her bloody finger pulled the trigger.

Can’t think of that! Stop it! It’s breaking you, this house, this loneliness. They knew, they knew and they plotted and they won, because they were never your friends!

Shadows play across the room, and I find solace in one bright corner, where the moonlight meets the softened glow of tainted midnight cloth. I can’t hear them, the soft murmurs of the demons inside me, of the companions on the outside, of the sensitive logic that sits silent in between. I want to cry, want to scream and kill them, like she killed us, them, me, and then burst into that sobbing laughter like the bystander did.

Did you know that I can’t feel my body anymore?

Did you know that I can’t feel?



I wish I could hide from everyone



My hair is heavy, trying to suffocate me with it’s evil intentions and weighty conscience. It has become my enemy, so I killed it, mangling, torturing, decapitating it and throwing it from a shattered window. I watched it flutter down, the beginning rays of sunlight slipping through fingers of trees to light against it, while woman’s screams fill my head like the fire alarm it has been all along.

I killed her again, and felt so much freedom to watch it all drift on down the ocean view.

Occasionally, my breath stops, and I forget I’m alive. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his darkened outline, like someone snuck up behind me and sketched him into my life. I want to sever my name so I can murder him again, wallow in his cries as he’s banished out of my life for the second wild time, but I can’t.

Fucking love.

I leave him to watch me, to sit in the bleachers and be the cheering section of my life like the annoying fan that he is. The silhouette stays, lingering in the backdrop of my head, as I clutch temples that throb, that pound beneath the shell of flesh.

I know the others aren’t coming back for me, leaving me locked and strapped to this battered shack, with windows like eyes that are cracked and walls that weep and breathe. But I must admit, I pushed them away by opening my arms, I destroyed them with a kiss and a soft smile, I slaughtered with whispers and winks. I use all the weapons available to the human soul, to the mauled sections of societies heart.

I’m a crafty bastard, aren’t I?

I heard the sighs of bored torments brought in on the harsh breeze of reality today, calling out my name with all its malevolent intentions, all its twisted little designs. I showed it my back, showed it my vulnerable weak point and let it slide its weapon into the chink on my mental armor, and delightfully threw all cares and desires to the wind.

This time...

Next time...

And all the gray shades that lie in between.


Is there somewhere else to be
Is there somewhere else to be



Shredded paper flowers pool at my feet, stripped and broken, while the naked plaster of the enclosing wall mocks me. I found a mirror that refused to die amongst the roses, and stared at violet eyes rimmed with strings of red. I think they once knew the secret to the face that held them, but now it's gone, all gone on a wisp of a scent, on the rain that drove the family out.

Music dances outside my reaches sometimes, leaving me so lonely. I've taken to talking to the one that stalks me, the one that stands just outside my peripheral vision and laughs because he knows I'm flailing while standing perfectly still. The other voices have quieted down to something bearable, but he... he stands still in the center of a moonbeam and creates a whirlwind of sound without opening his mouth.

I've moved to the living room, on braver days, and its irony is unmistakable. A living room sitting in a dead house; a family room resting in the epitome of abandonment. The couch is upholstered some disgusting faded yellow color that resembles things I don't want to put names to, and the curtains are dust-colored and tattered, resembling the clichéd type in played out horror movies. Unpolished wooden floors sang with uneven boards, while televisions with shattered faces sat still in their unbroken death.

I rose up a protest in dust and caused sunlight to slide in through obscenities I had written on dirty windowpanes. Call it my message to the wonderful society, to the graceful world that shoved me in here in the first place.

Knives litter the kitchen, but all too worn to do any real damage. They knew, damn them; they knew.

I'll return to the room upstairs once the dusk settles like a blanket in the skyline. I can't take the dejected worldview from scarred windows anymore.



Take me in
I want out
That’s all I need



Standing in the battered doorway, I could not help but eye the lush forest of unshaved grass, of weeds that stood as tall as I, swaying, barring, beckoning. Lashes blocked out my view, only to burn it into my mind, branding it forever on the haywire synapses. Pads of fingers pulled down the iron bars, traced their twirling nature, their binding hold, while I flared to life behind my soul.

Freedom...

So dangerously close...

Its taste lingers by my security, lulling me into some almost sated personae with it's high-pitched mewling.

I slam the door closed, panting as I lean my back against its wooden, splintered chest. Almost fell for it this time; almost saw the cement beyond that cold crypt, and then what? To be faced with the decisions and choices, the ideas of mending ways with the people that left me to rot within the shell, to become the introvert, the ideal silent born child that no one could love?

Shuffling towards the banister, my hands griped it, ignoring the slivers that dug and embedded themselves beneath the flesh of my palm. I crawled upwards, caught between growling and crying, screaming and whispering.

Where was everyone?!

I need them...to leave... to become...

Gleaming tile met my sight as I stumbled into the bathroom, disinfected and ripe with cleaner as it assaulted my head. Hands fumbled with the knobs, forcing the rusty brown spray of water out. Steam wafted forth, condensing around the ceiling and hiding ghostly expressions from mirrors and windows. I curled my trembling fingers around the slick white plastic of the curtain and pulled it free from the wrungs that held it, watching as it fluttered down and pooled along the slick white floor.

Shoving it away, I clambered into the water, letting it soak into my clothes, to scald my sacred temple of flesh, and clean me of the stench freedom had imprinted on me. Nails clawed at skin that ripped and birthed crimson rivers, while the stream of water refused to dissipate. I screamed and swallowed heat; I cried and wept fire.



I wish that I could run from everything


I watch them outside, the ones that commanded my fate with steel-trap jaws. Their shadows are long, and I am done.
Even my stalker has left me be, seeing me nothing more than a lost cause on a twilight whisper.

I wanted to tell you, one final statement before I take the key to my lips and devour its promises, just one ending statement that proclaimed softly of my own final chords that tie me to a whispering sanity.

"I asked for this. This is my heaven."





"Did his hand just..."

"Muscle spasm."

"I see..."

The footsteps echoed through whitewashed halls of divine order, promising of a hope long lost and mangled until there remained not even a soul left to manage. Hands found solace in a pocket, curling around cruel keys that bit into the flesh of a bitter palm, opening old wounds once more, one final time on the way outside, under streetlamps and moonlight, under shadows and silhouettes.

The End