Author's Chapter Notes:
The writing style is based on James Frey's 'A Million Little Pieces'.
Author: deva (author's email)
Author's Note: Thank you to Jess and monica for beta'ing this for me. Thank you to Kynna for your kind words and your curiousity.

Dust and Ashes


I hate the light and it hates me. I chuckle slightly at that statement.

The light really is unbearable so I face away from it. I scrunch up my face as it still reaches me. I can feel it. Why won’t it get away from me? I squirm in my seat as it touches my skin. It makes me feel naked, like I have no clothes on my back at all.

I look down on my hands. They are scarred. I don’t remember what I did. I involuntarily laugh. I don’t know why, but I do. I always laugh involuntarily. There’s nothing funny but I laugh. There’s nothing funny but I laugh.

The man beside me is staring at me again. I hate him. I wish he would go away. I glare at him. He keeps staring back. I squint a bit. The light is still scorching. Someone turn off the goddamn thing. The light is hot and gives me a hard time breathing properly. I can suffocate on it if I don’t concentrate enough.

I look up and the man who was staring at me stands there. What is he doing standing there?

I speak.

What do you want?

Your hands are bleeding.

I look down.

No, they’re not.

You want me to lick them for you?

What?

Do you want me to lick your wounds for you?

What the hell are you talking about?!

Y-your…w-wounds. They’d be coppery.

He gazes away and laughs. His tongue darts out and I scramble away. He tries to grab my hand and I scramble away.

No, I don’t want you to lick me, you psycho! Get the fuck away from me!

He chuckles at me.

Ps-psycho… You’re here too.

I can feel the rage building and I try to push it down.

Shut up.

I fix my hospital gown. I will need to call my dad for decent clothes soon. I dread it and I won’t do it unless I really have to.

I don’t want to call him. He sent me here and I don’t want to call him.

The rage builds again as I remember what he did. I hate him. I feel like choking from the hate.

I take deep breaths to calm myself but they don’t serve a purpose. The rage builds inside of me and deep breaths don’t serve a purpose. Not here. Not in this prison. Deep breaths don’t serve for anything at all.

I want to go home. I’ve wanted to go home ever since the first day.

Buffy.

I hear her calling me and I recognize the voice.

Buffy, you know you need to call your father for that Family Program meeting.

I know that! Don’t rush me okay? I will.

Okay, honey, calm down. Now, don’t forget to take your meds.

Shit, Velma, will you just get off of my case already?!

Calm down, Buffy. You know I don’t want to have to sedate you.

My body starts trembling at the memory of the first day.

Get off of me!

There are tears marring my cheeks. They’re holding on too tight. I look down at my hands and I see the bruises that are beginning to make themselves known. They are shaped like hands. I whimper slightly when I feel one of them pull me up from the floor.

I don’t want to take those. I swear to God, I’m not crazy!

I try explaining but they don’t listen. They never listen.

He holds the medicine cup in front of my face. I tightly clamp my mouth shut.

His big hand pinches my nose, forcing me to breathe through my mouth. I struggle for a while but I feel myself quickly losing breath. The oxygen in my brain is depleting and I still struggle to keep my mouth shut. I desperately need to breathe so I open my mouth for air. He shoves the countless medicines into my mouth and forces me to swallow.

I am stubborn and I will not let him win easily.

He backs off; his arms are raised in surrender.

I glare at him and spit the un-swallowed pills back in his face.

I speak and my voice is trembling from exhaustion and slight fear.

I said I’m not crazy and I am not going to take those.

The woman behind him looks at her watch impatiently and barks a command.

Sedate her.

My eyes widen and I don’t know what this implies. My insides are quivering in fear as the two men approach me yet again.

I try to scream but there was a muscular hand covering my mouth. I struggle but it is fruitless. I did not notice a third man come up behind me; I only feel the needle.

I only feel the needle and next came the darkness.

I don’t care what you do.

I do care, I’m scared out of belief but I will not show it.

She looks at me grimly and leaves.

I sit back down on the couch. It’s tattered and old but it will do. There’s nowhere else to sit; everyone’s everywhere.

I see a man with dark hair sitting on one of the long couches. Xander turns to me and his face instantly lights up. He cocks his head to the side signalling me to come over. Xander’s one of my dad’s lackeys. My dad had Xander come in here with me to keep me in line.

I feel my throat constrict with rage. I wish he would leave me alone. He reminds me of my father, because of his association to him.

I approach him and he smiles at me, deceivingly friendly.

Hi, Buff, would you like to sit on me?—I mean, with me?

I smile back at him.

I pretend with him, as I usually do.

Sure, Xand.

We watch the TV. The show is about rich celebrities showing off their houses that they barely come home to. I stare at the large houses that don’t seem to have been lived in, and almost immediately I lose taste for it. I am embittered by its uncomfortable resemblance to my life.

I stand and I speak to him.

Xand, I’m going to go for a walk. You don’t have to go with me.

He talks to me but his eyes are still staring at the TV. A member of a girl group named Destiny’s Child or some other is showing off her large backyard.

Are you sure, Buff?

Yeah, it’d just be for a while. I just need some air.

He takes a bite out of the candy bar.

Okay.

I walk through the glass doors and I curse myself for forgetting to bring a coat out with me. The air is cold as it sways across the darkening sky. Christmas is nearing but I have never had appreciation for it. Not since my mother’s death.

I feel my insides shivering but I am beyond caring. I hug my body closer to me and I can feel my frail bones through the thin hospital gown. I will need to tell Xander to call my dad and fetch for some clothes.

I near the stream and I can feel my chest let go of its tight reign. I breathe easily for once. I see him and I smile. I always smile when he’s around.

He turns around when he hears my footsteps on the grass-covered ground and he smirks at me.

I walk quickly to him and bury myself in his chest. I feel his arms close around my body and I am relieved. I am home. I sigh.

We sit on the grassy ground.

He speaks.

How was your day, sweetheart?

Terrible. Velma is insisting that I call my father.

My voice breaks and I know it’s a sign of weakness. But it’s him so it’s okay. It’s him so it’s okay.

And…are you going to?

His voice is cautious and I know he cares. I feel calmer because he’s here. I feel calmer because he cares.

What do you think? I’ll let Xander do it.

He nods his head solemnly and I am grateful that he understands.

You don’t have to feel sorry for me, you know?

I know. I’m not…I jus’…

Right…

I don’t want to talk about me anymore so I quickly change the subject.

How was yours?

How was what?

Your day.

I brush his curls from his eyes and he smiles at me. His eyes are blue and I am lost in them. I am lost in his blue eyes.

Oh…It was all right. Gets easier every day. The hallucinations aren’t as constant.

He takes a deep breath

I missed you.

My cheeks tinted to rouge. But it’s him so it’s okay.

I missed you, too.

He pulls me to him and lightly kisses my cheek. I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent. The stream water sparkles; it gives me a peaceful feeling. I never want to leave his arms.

He looks at his building and then to mine and I know he’s thinking how often we can sneak away like this. He’s from the drug rehabilitation and I’m from the mental institution and I know he’s wondering how long we can keep our relationship a secret.

I look at his anguished blue eyes and I know he’s trying to find a way to get me away from my father. He smiles sadly at me.

He speaks; his voice is determined.

It’ll be okay, sweetling. You’ll see.

I know.

It’s him so it’s okay.

END


A/N: Might feature a sequel but for now, I kind of like it the way it is.





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