Work Text:
You have a box.
You keep all the words you've never been able to say in it.
There's a man - a creature. He's in a box, too.
He's the one that gave you words. But he didn't make you hide them. You pretend you don't know who that was.
Once you were a key. Once you were a monster. Once you were - a - a thing.
Now you're nothing.
You wonder when your body stopped being yours. You think it never belonged to you in the first place. Maybe you should start paying rent.
But who would you pay rent to? The person who hurt you the worst? Or the least?
Does it matter?
No.
You used to wish you were dead. Now you wish you were nothing. Anti-matter. Non-sentient star dust. Oblivion.
It doesn't matter.
The only person you love more than anything is the only person that will not let you go.
You are stuck in a greyed out, claw-marked, never-ending existence. You are a wound on everyone's soul, and you're always getting infected.
It doesn't matter.
You realize now that you've never mattered.
You are less than the pain of a you, without.
You could be empty of everything, but someone will convince you it's better than nothing.
You have a box.
You keep all the words you've never been able to say in it.
You swallow the key.
It tastes like ashes.