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31_days2008-02-02 10:59 pm
candy--chan.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-02-02 10:59 pm
[Feb. 2] [Detective Conan] Draining Away
Title: Draining Away
Day/Theme: Feb. 2: What feeds me destroys me.
Series: Detective Conan
Character/Pairing: Shinichi (as Conan)
Rating: R/M
In the darkness, he heard an unfamiliar sound—the scrape of metal against metal.
For one brief, horrific moment, Shinichi wondered if it was somehow the other occupant of the room. Intellectually, he knew that dead bodies didn’t move. But really…he didn’t know anymore. But then he heard a clank, followed by a splashing sound.
It was the splash that got his attention. He crawled carefully across the floor, keeping as close to the wall as possible. It was a guide, if nothing else. He inched towards the area where he remembered the door being—that’s where the sound had come from.
Soon enough, he felt something wet, puddled in the tiny indentations in the stone floor. A very careful taste-test proved it to be water. A little further along, he felt something round and metal. He picked it up carefully; there was, indeed, perhaps a mouthful of water left in the bottom.
It was only having it thrust in his face like this that he realized he was hungry and thirsty. How long had he been in here? He had been permitted water once before, and now again. Somehow he suspected that the spill had been anything but accidental. Still, it was a frightening thought—he hadn’t noticed, and he hadn’t cared that he was probably edging towards death.
Was he really numbing himself to his situation to that extent?
No matter. Instinct took over with a desperate need to survive, and he greedily downed the mouthful of water in the bottom of the container. It wasn’t enough, he needed more…
They were probably watching him somehow. They had to be. Why go to all this trouble if they couldn’t see him die? It was degrading, but…he felt along the floor, searching for those tiny indentations where the spilled water had pooled, and he lapped and sucked it up as best he could.
The fact that he had stooped this low made him want to vomit from humiliation alone.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. He crawled back to his corner, as far away from the body in the room as he could get, and curled up into a little ball, feeling his stomach lurch violently.
What did it matter, really? Who cared if he was reduced to licking water off the floor like some dog? He was no better than a dog anymore—he was their dog, really, locked away in a cage.
The chances that he would be found and saved from this place were nonexistent. He had really known that from the beginning, but he hadn’t wanted to accept the crushing reality of it then. Now…
He was an idiot. A hopeless fool. And the realization tore at him. He should have ignored the water. It wasn’t much, but it might prolong the inevitable a little longer, and that was something he didn’t think he could bear much longer.
He was going to die in here. He was going to die in a dark room, alone. Did anyone even remember him anymore? He doubted it—why would they care, even if they could find him somehow? Shinichi buried his face in his knees.
Soon. It would be over soon, at least. He would never get out of here. He would never be found. And soon both he and his life would vanish and be forgotten, draining away and disappearing like the spilled water on the floor.
Day/Theme: Feb. 2: What feeds me destroys me.
Series: Detective Conan
Character/Pairing: Shinichi (as Conan)
Rating: R/M
In the darkness, he heard an unfamiliar sound—the scrape of metal against metal.
For one brief, horrific moment, Shinichi wondered if it was somehow the other occupant of the room. Intellectually, he knew that dead bodies didn’t move. But really…he didn’t know anymore. But then he heard a clank, followed by a splashing sound.
It was the splash that got his attention. He crawled carefully across the floor, keeping as close to the wall as possible. It was a guide, if nothing else. He inched towards the area where he remembered the door being—that’s where the sound had come from.
Soon enough, he felt something wet, puddled in the tiny indentations in the stone floor. A very careful taste-test proved it to be water. A little further along, he felt something round and metal. He picked it up carefully; there was, indeed, perhaps a mouthful of water left in the bottom.
It was only having it thrust in his face like this that he realized he was hungry and thirsty. How long had he been in here? He had been permitted water once before, and now again. Somehow he suspected that the spill had been anything but accidental. Still, it was a frightening thought—he hadn’t noticed, and he hadn’t cared that he was probably edging towards death.
Was he really numbing himself to his situation to that extent?
No matter. Instinct took over with a desperate need to survive, and he greedily downed the mouthful of water in the bottom of the container. It wasn’t enough, he needed more…
They were probably watching him somehow. They had to be. Why go to all this trouble if they couldn’t see him die? It was degrading, but…he felt along the floor, searching for those tiny indentations where the spilled water had pooled, and he lapped and sucked it up as best he could.
The fact that he had stooped this low made him want to vomit from humiliation alone.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. He crawled back to his corner, as far away from the body in the room as he could get, and curled up into a little ball, feeling his stomach lurch violently.
What did it matter, really? Who cared if he was reduced to licking water off the floor like some dog? He was no better than a dog anymore—he was their dog, really, locked away in a cage.
The chances that he would be found and saved from this place were nonexistent. He had really known that from the beginning, but he hadn’t wanted to accept the crushing reality of it then. Now…
He was an idiot. A hopeless fool. And the realization tore at him. He should have ignored the water. It wasn’t much, but it might prolong the inevitable a little longer, and that was something he didn’t think he could bear much longer.
He was going to die in here. He was going to die in a dark room, alone. Did anyone even remember him anymore? He doubted it—why would they care, even if they could find him somehow? Shinichi buried his face in his knees.
Soon. It would be over soon, at least. He would never get out of here. He would never be found. And soon both he and his life would vanish and be forgotten, draining away and disappearing like the spilled water on the floor.