Puppet Master by Gaki

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hisoka torture. More nonsense. Ya know, the typical stuff. ^^

-- past --

[1] = Manga, Muraki has a favorite Victorian doll that he loved to play with. As seeing how I have no clue what her hair and eye color are, I made them like Hisoka's. Also, his mother calls him by his first name, Kazutaka-san.

If you ask a person if they can remember anything from their early years, say when they were nothing but a baby, you'd get a blink and a shrug. Ask them about their childhood and you'd get broken answers. Faded memories trying to turn into vivid technique colors again. No one remembers their childhood clearly. Broken pieces of memories that, without the help of family members, will forever remain broken. As like painful memories. The mind of a child who has seen far too many things will repress things such as that from his mind.

He will forget the pain and the suffering.

He will only remember the joy and the love.

Only if there were any to began with.

-- [1]There was a puppet that he loved to play with. A Victorian doll his mother kept in her room along with the others. She had beautiful long blonde hair and eyes that seemed to be made from pure emerald. He would spend hours upon hours playing with her. Brushing her hair from her eyes and straightening her dress. She would in turn keep him company while his father was away. He didn't mind being alone. He didn't mind that his parents never paid him any attention.

He had her and that was all that mattered.

Until one day his mother took her away. Took his favorite doll from his trembling hands and told him he was a perfect doll. Her perfect 'doll'.

"Okaa-sama... where's Veronica?"

"You don't need her anymore, Kazutaka-san... you are a doll yourself. The perfect doll in my 'collection'." --

Emotionless cold silver eyes looked away from it's own reflection on the window as the figure chained to the wall slowly woke up to the real world.

Where nightmare and reality mix together in an endless cycle.

His head hurt. A dull aching pain at the back of his head, as if he'd fallen to the ground. Letting out a confused moan, he opened his eyes and found himself in semi-darkness. His vision still slightly blurred, he couldn't make out most of the room. He could tell there was a window for bright sunlight was flowing through it. His eyes widen and a small gasp escaped his lips when he noticed the person standing right in the light of the sun. Muraki's silver hair gleamed slightly in the dim light as he continued to look out the window of his current prison hold.

Trying to move, he found himself chained to the cold wall behind him by his wrist and ankle. He was defenseless against his worst nightmare. Standing perfectly still, he kept his eyes on the silver haired doctor as he slowly made his way towards him from across the room.

"Saa... you've finally decided to wake up." A soft chuckle. "You had quite a nightmare while you were out."

He glared, although he didn't know why. None of his glares worked on him. "YOU."

A cruel amused smile still played on Muraki's lips. "Woke up from one nightmare only to find you are still in another one, ne, puppet?"

His throat was dry, his heart was pounding and he felt light headed. He wanted to get away, but that doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon. Swallowing his saliva, he opened his mouth to speak, his voice dripping with hate. "I am not your puppet, Muraki."

"Oh? Is that so, boy?" Slender pale hands reached up and started to unbutton his shirt in a lazy manner.

He started. "Wh-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Struggling against his chains, he tried to move away from those hands as one button after another fell open.

The fake eye looked into his own wide emerald ones and held his gaze. A smile played at pale lips as a hand gently stroked his chest, mocking a lover's caress. "You are my puppet."

Jade eyes became wide and dull, staring at everything and nothing all at once. The chains became lifeless as the body it held back became lifeless itself. He didn't flinch when pale hands continued it's mocking caress on his chest. He didn't respond when that same hand trailed up and stroked his cheek.

"You will remember only what I let you remember, boy."

-- The cold night air bit at his skin as he walked down the stone trailed path. Legs moving on their own accord. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to get there. --

White porcelain hands reached up and brushed his hair from his eyes. The body moved closer and hot breath tickled his ear, moving down his neck.

"What do you remember, puppet?"

-- Red. The moon was blood red. He heard a rustle and looked to his right. Red blood stained on pure white. Two people sharing a lover's embrace seemed innocent enough. If you ignored the blood. He started when the man turned and looked at him straight in the eyes.

The moon traded places that night. It left the sky and shone back at him in a stranger's eyes. --

Muraki raised the boy's chin with his hand, looking into dull green eyes. Leaning down, he whispered against soft pink lips. "... what do you remember?"

-- The feel of the cold hard ground under his body. The icy cold night air kissing his skin as his clothes was torn from him. Large greedy hands touching, grabbing and demanding things from him he never knew he could give, or was willing to give. The steely feel of the sharp blade against his soft skin. The pain as it cut through and ran a trail of red down and around his body.

Red like the ground. Red like the sakura petals. Red like the moon. --

He looked down at Hisoka's chest as the bright red curse glowed against his soft colored skin. A pleased smile formed on his lips as he used a finger to trace the delicate markings from one to another. "... tell me what you remember, puppet."

-- Pain. So much pain. Pain in his head, in his throat, on his body and down his legs. Hot pain as the man above him did things he didn't want to remember. Pain in his body. On his body. Pain everywhere when he tried to move. --

The hand trailed from his chest down to his stomach, finger tracing along the edge of his jean.

-- Over and over again. In an endless cycle that he'll never be able to escape. Struggling against him will only make it worst. There was nothing he could do... nothing. Nothing but... --

Muraki leaned down, his lips brushing against Hisoka's ear as he whispered softly. "Tell me..."

And Hisoka told him. He screamed.