Nothing More…

He once again denies me. Ignores me. Refuses to acknowledge my existence in a way. I cannot blame him. I am unworthy. He is superior. And yet… I want him. Kiss me, touch me… make me yours forever. But I never will be his. The only person who ever meant anything to him has their arm attached to my body. It’s the one true gift that He ever gave me. Sometimes he grabs it. Feels it, licks it. But today he does nothing. He’d laugh at me if I asked him for that favor. The favor of his touch. I am not worth dealing with unless he is instructing me on my mission.

Eternal Suffering.

Vash the Stampede, it is all your fault that He is suffering.

I suppose it’s pathetic in a way. How I use one of my own men as a scapegoat for the pent up frustration I experience. But, it’s as though it helps. And it does help, in some small extent. While it is nothing compared to the want of His love however, it does assist.

Midvalley the Hornfreak is there as expected.

That look on his face, he knows what I’m about to do. It adds to the amusement, the fact that he knows that he’s powerless. There is nothing more satisfying to me then watching him become absolutely powerless. His expression is a mixture of fear, acceptance and humiliation. I’ll admit I enjoyed it far more when we first started. He'd panic. Beg sometimes. Struggle. I’d watch as the tears on his face slowly stopped and became anger. But now it’s become more of a routine for both of us. A recreation if you will.

At times I really do hate him. Funny part was he wasn’t half as bad when he was younger. God not tonight. I have plans tonight.

Nope, it doesn’t look like he cares about my plans.

Sure, he was always rather freaky but never like this. I suppose its Knives. He won’t fuck Legato so Legato fucks me. Life’s a bitch like that. And a rather painful one at that. I mean, I’ve come to expect this at least once a week. Me, laying stark naked on the bed as he does what he damn well pleases with me. Guy always was a master at foreplay. Bastard. Runs Knives’s Gung-ho Guns like it was his own private line of action figures.

True, I stopped screaming. Doesn’t stop me from hyperventilating. Or whimpering a lot. Sad how casually I talk about this. How I once had control. But no, he likes that. He strips me of my dignity both figuratively and literally. He does this on propose, to show how truly helpless I am from monsters like him and Knives.

Fuck that hurts.

Sure I have Chapel now, that makes things a little better, but most of the time I still bit my lip to keep from saying anything as he pulls my legs wider…

I bear it, like it’s a god damned routine.

Hell, it is a routine.

Christ, my lips gonna bleed if I bite down on it any harder.

I hardly ever struggle now. I know if I did, it would probably please him more. But at the same time I don’t really want him to get bored. See, if he gets too bored then he’ll use his powers. That blue haired son of a bitch has a big imagination.

One might ask what I owe to Legato. Or Knives even. True, Knives recruited me, but Legato found me. A poor girl living on the streets. I’d ran away from my abusive step-dad and that weak woman of my mother when I was 15. I’d lost track of how many years I’d spent on the street with a piece of dirty cloth wrapped around my abnormal eye. Starving, cold, alone, doing things that I refuse to talk about here. However.. that eye.. the demon’s eye as it came to be known as, I could paralyze the senses with it. A form of hypnosis. I started to use that to stay alive. And I suppose that’s what caught his attention. I’d been using it to fight off a group of thugs. It’s hard to use on five people at once though. I had a knife to my throat and another man grabbing my legs. I still remember that mans scream as he jabbed his own knife into his right eye. But more importantly, I remember him. His hair was the color of the sky just as the sun had gone down. His eyes the color of a cats right before it eats it pray. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and I owed him my life. He’d asked coldly if I wanted something to eat. Not.. meanly… just.. emotionless. I still remember meeting his Master, Knives Millions. Commander of the Gung Ho Guns. An elite group of killers.

His words echo in my head.

"There was a old legend of a monster known as a Cyclops. It had one eye."

I remember putting that eye patch on my head for the fist time.

"From now on, you’re Dominique the Cyclops".

But I still had a childish infatuation with Legato. He’d saved my life like some prince from a story told to a child for bedtime.

But Legato was no prince.

And there was no chance in hell that he’d ever take me to a castle far away.

He trusted me, respected me. But there still remained his own obsession with Knives. Of course Knives hated humans. So Knives hated Legato. To him Legato was garbage, and Legato hated himself for that. So Legato took it out on another Gung Ho Gun member.

Midvalley. He comes across as saner then the rest of the Gung Ho Guns put together. Saner based on the fact that he wants out. He comes across as perverted, reckless, the term "lounge lizard" often comes to mind. Of course that’s his own personal mask. Inside he’s far more insecure. Especially after what Legato does with him. Definitely.

Interesting, his mind was elsewhere tonight. While he usually tries to pretend like this all isn’t happening this time it was like he was succeeding more. I must work on getting him to pay more attention to me. The attention that I can never get from Him.

Hmm.. I wonder what she is doing out here this late at night. She’s trying not to notice me. But her normal eye gives it away. Only one normal eye. She reminds me of myself in a way. One abnormal gift, to be turned into a powerful weapon of death. I find myself fascinated by her at times. She is like me. Human. Imperfect. And yet, she seams perfectly content with it all. I wonder if she views me at all in the same way.

He caught me looking at him. But he keeps walking so it doesn’t seem to bother him. I guess Midvalley won’t be joining me for drinks tonight. I can’t help but notice his arm. I wonder… do other people find it "Scary"? Sure, he adores it. Knives adores it. But is it like my own eye? No it isn’t. No one needs to see it unless he wants them to. I have no choice to show my own. Even the eye patch I wear indicates that there’s something wrong with it.

I’m going to be late tonight. Damn it all. Assuming I can still walk. Yeah, I can. Hurts a lot but I can walk. It took me long enough to get there. God she’s smiling so coyly about the whole thing. At least she makes a good drinking partner. She could drink both me and Chapel under the table single handedly. I hate the way she looks at Legato. Like some realistic idolization. She thinks that he’s so much like her. I remember what I once told her.

"Legato’s obsessed with Knives. You think if he ever required a substitute for that you think it would be a girl?"

That was my own personal little way of telling her what was really going on. She knows perfectly well why I was late. Of course I say something else anyway. I really need to wonder if there’s anyway out.

If there is a resolve to such matters.

If this is all one big waste of my time.

I think I could sum it up in an old quote that isn’t even from this planet. "Life… is a tale told by an idiot signifying nothing."

Yeah.. that’s my life in a nutshell.

--End

(in some editor notes, I kept it like this because I wanted it to end awkwardly like that. This story was meant more for an introspective and less of a plot)