That damned clock.
It never stops ticking. Minutes, hours, days..... Not a single moment goes
by where I don’t hear the infernal sound of another second being ticked
away by the clock that hangs in the farthest, darkest wall of this hellhole
that I now call home.
Not that I’ve ever really had somewhere to call home, you see. My whole
life I’ve drifted from place to place, never finding a place or person
that could truly accept me and give me that sense of belonging I’ve
craved for so long. I couldn’t find home with my parents, who abandoned
me; couldn’t find home at the orphanage, where I was always the outcast;
couldn’t find home with my foster parents, who hated me; definitely
couldn’t find home at Balamb Garden, where my role was the bully and
the eternal failure.
I thought for a while that my search for a true home had ended when I met
Ultimecia. Being her knight gave me a sense of duty, a natural high of
self-righteousness and glory; finally I was doing something worth remembering,
and for a sorceress who could appreciate my talents and passions. But I was
defeated, cruelly cast aside, abandoned for the second time in my life and
left with a void bigger than the one I’d had to begin with.
And to make matters worse, now the whole world hates my guts.
Only my posse defended me, stood by my side when everyone spat in my face
and hurled words burning with hatred, cursing me to a dozen lifetimes in
hell. Yes, I was a traitor. Yes, I did things even the most vicious and
power-hungry of men would cringe at. Yes, I almost brought the world to its
knees at the feet of a woman who would crush time itself in her warped madness.
But can’t they see why I did it? Can’t they see that all I wanted
was a shred of honor, the smallest sense of belonging and the realization
of a romantic dream. My mind was clouded, my dreams obscured by the haze
that was that woman’s venomous words, savage eyes, soulless
smile....
Who the hell would put a clock in a prison cell?
But even my posse couldn’t defend me against the world. I remember watching
their faces as I was being dragged from the courtroom, my sentence still
ringing in my ears. Sad and angry and hopeless and bitter, all these emotions
concentrated at me through two morose brown eyes and one fierce red one.
I was kicking and screaming, the reality of it all crashing around me and
sending fury, shock, and....yes, fear, coursing through my
veins.
Three life sentences.
I am condemned to hell, not once, not twice; but three times will I have
to face the devil for my sins.
Tick tock tick tock.....dammit just shut UP.
And that’s how I’ve ended up here. A bloody trail of lost battles,
sworn enemies, and glorious, unfulfilled promises all lead me to this tiny,
black cell where I am to spend the rest of my existence rotting away in
humiliation, disgrace, and the constant smell of death and cold, hard steel
pervading my senses.
Some people say that our only true enemy is time. Well, those people know
nothing, and I mean nothing about just how horrible time can be. It draws
out like a blade, every passing second an eternity that seems to stretch
out into a never-ending black hole in front of you, and you’re left
staring it in the face like looking down the barrel of a gun. Only, a gun
could bring you peace, provide an end quick and painless, but time.....
Time makes every memory an incessant torture, elevating every guilt and crushing
every hope. It gives you nothing but a despairing void of anguish, of knowing
there will never be anything else in your life but an eternity of staring
at blank walls and wondering where you went wrong.
And the sad thing is, I know I deserve it all. I’ve done everything
they’ve accused me of and more. I can’t even take a piss without
pissing guilt.
I lie here, seeing nothing but blackness and passing visions of what I used
to dream I could become.... Unseen vermin scuttle around in the dark corners
of my cell, the only company I have in this wet, fetid shit-hole, furnished
with only a small filthy toilet and a dirty cot that is hard and cold as
rock.
I swear to God I’m going to tear that clock off the fucking
wall.
Sleep used to be the only savior I had. I could escape reality, if only for
a few meager hours, and it was blissful release. Now, even my sleep is haunted
by horrific dreams. Every night I see bodies strewn everywhere, bloodied
and broken; endless fields of carnage that are scorched black and red. I
look down to see bloodstained hands, and I know that it is me who has done
all this. The killing never stops, the lies and hatred never ends, and I
see myself failing over and over and over again, unable to stop myself, unable
to warn those who stood in my path, unable to--
“Almasy, you have a visitor.”
.....A visitor?
Who in God’s name would visit me here, and after all this
time....
Not even my posse came to see me after I was sentenced to three lifetimes
in the D-District Prison. Not once.
“Make it quick. You got 15 minutes, lady.”
The door to my cell swings open, letting in a blinding shaft of light that
forces my eyes to squeeze shut and my arms to fly up protectively over my
face. My eyes remain closed, and I pray pray pray the door will shut and
please stop hurting my eyes like this....
Whoever came to visit me stands silent for a moment, their silhouette casting
itself across my shivering body like some shadowy beast until the thick metal
door is slowly shut behind them. The sound of six inches of reinforced steel
being closed resounds loudly for a moment, echoing in my tiny cell like a
gunshot, followed by the sound of high heels clicking on the bare cement
underneath them. The clacking of heels comes closer to me, and I slowly open
my eyes, lowering my arms in wonderment of who this visitor, my only human
contact for months, could be....
Long blonde hair. Penetrating blue eyes. Tall, shapely figure. Even by the
scanty shafts of light provided by the bars in my cell door, I have no trouble
discerning the beauty of a woman who has come to see me, the scum of the
universe.
Quistis Trepe.
God, she’s still as regal and beautiful as I remember her, golden hair
flowing in sweeping tresses down the sides of her pale, oval face. Lips still
as pink and full and pouty as in my memories, still standing straight and
proud and exuding the intelligence and sophistication of a woman who became
SeeD instructor by the age of fifteen. Her ice blue eyes widen a little,
obviously taking in my appearance and not believing what she
sees.
Seifer Almasy, the one I’m sure everyone remembers, was always larger
than life, towering over those who would challenge him with an arrogant sneer
and over six feet of trained muscle straining to lash out. I prided myself
on intimidating people at first sight; striking fear in others was one of
the few things I was good at and I enjoyed it, reveling in the feeling of
being powerful and impressive in the eyes of those weaker than me. Tanned
to perfection, hardened and sculpted by years of practice, and armed with
the deadliest of weapons, a resplendent sword that sliced flesh and glittered
with deadly accuracy in my hands, I believed no man could get the better
of me and everyone saw it plainly on every one of my features.
If they could only see me now.
The Seifer Almasy that Quistis is seeing is only a ghost, a mere whisper
of the man I used to be. I imagine what I must look like in her eyes right
now; pale, ashen, my clothes baggy from all the weight I’ve lost. My
hair, which used to be short and clean with a loose lock or two to add a
daring charm to my appearance, now hangs messily in greasy, unwashed clumps
reaching down past my shoulders. My nails are yellowed and uncut, dirt and
grime covers every inch of my body, my lips are dry and cracked. Remnants
of cuts and dried blood can be seen everywhere, evidence of nights when I
bit my lip clear through in my dreams and days when I was mercilessly lashed
and brutally beaten on the whims of the guards.
I wonder if she is disgusted by what she sees, or simply
shocked.
Either way, she disguises her emotions quickly and strides over to where
I am crouched on my cot, still disbelieving that she is here; an actual,
living, breathing person come to visit me.
She hesitates for a moment, looking me over head to toe with a sad look in
her eyes, then quietly sits down next to me. The cot creaks with the added
weight, and I subconsciously shrink away from her with apprehension in my
eyes.
Surprise and little bit of hurt crosses her face as she sees me react to
her closeness, followed quickly by sorrow and pity.
Don’t look at me like that....
I don’t want you to see me like this.
I hate what I’ve become. I hate that I’m such a sick mockery of
what I used to be.
So pathetic.
And yet......part of me does want her to look, to see what I’ve become,
what they’ve done to me and what I’ve done to myself. I want her
to be appalled, to be shocked, to feel anger and regret and sadness. It makes
me feel more....real. To know that someone can still see me, that I haven’t
wasted away into nothing just yet.
“Seifer....” she starts. Her voice sounds shaky and unsure of herself.
She licks her lips and tries again.
“Seifer....do you remember me?”
Like I could fucking forget. Just because I look like this, just because
I’m only a skeleton of a human being doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten
who I used to be. That’s all I can think about anymore, other than the
eternity of silence and solitude that is to be my future.
And you.
Yes, you. I know you never noticed the way I would look at you when you walked
past me, stealing little longing glances when you had your back turned to
us in class or when you were talking to him. Hating you for loving him, hating
myself for wanting you, and worshipping you more with every breath you took.
I can loathe you, want you, hate you, desire you.....
.....but never forget you.
“....Yes. Of course I remember. Instructor Trepe.” My voice comes
out weak and scratchy, catching in my throat from not having been used in
ages.
She smiles a little, reassured that I haven’t forgotten, but her smile
quickly dies as she looks at me and is reminded of where she is and what
she’s doing here. Which is still a mystery to
me....
“Seifer....I can’t....can’t begin to tell you how I feel.
I know nobody else knows, but I know that what you did wasn’t your fault.
You don’t belong here. And seeing you like...this,” she averts
her gaze, unable to look me in the face any longer, “only makes me feel
worse about what’s happened to you. I’m so sorry. I failed you
as a teacher; if only I could’ve done something differently, maybe you
would’ve turned out differently, maybe you wouldn’t have chosen
the path you did. I should have been more understanding, saw things differently,
tried harder to be the instructor I should’ve been, but
I-”
Your fault? You should’ve? You failed? Quistis, the only failure was
me. Nobody made decisions for me; Seifer Almasy decided his own path and
anybody who didn’t agree could go fuck themselves. Don’t think
for even one second that this was your fault because I chose to do what I
did by myself and no one helped me to reach hell but me.
“Stop it. I did what I wanted to and you know it. So you can stop feeling
sorry for yourself and you can sure as hell stop feeling sorry for me.”
I felt a little bit of my old arrogance come back as I said that, haughtiness
and disdain creeping into my voice.
Quistis only looked at me. “But someone could’ve made you see....forced
you to stop and look at what you were doing. We, I, didn’t try hard
enough to stop you or help you; we only thought of defeating you and not
what you were going through yourself-”
“Oh, and I suppose you think you could’ve stopped me? That you
and your little friends could be my saviors and make me see the light?
Don’t fool yourself. What else were you supposed to do but think of
how to defeat me, how to beat what was threatening your lives? And as for
what I was going through....well none of you could have possibly known, could
you.”
My throat was already starting to hurt; this was the most I’d used it
in God only knows how long. I wasn’t about to let this stop me though;
my voice started to grow in volume and fervency. I’ve kept this inside
for too long.
“I was hurting people and you did what you thought was right. To hell
with how I felt, there’s no reason you should give a damn. If I were
you, I wouldn’t care what happens to my enemy as long as he’s stopped,
and I have been stopped and I’m here now so why should this worry you
anymore? Why are you even here, why wait all this time just to come back
and see me for what I am and try to apologize for something when it’s
no use, not even your fault? Why do you have to come here and rub it in,
remind me of what a failure I am? The war’s over, you won, stop trying
to be so damned diplomatic and leave me to rot like the miserable piece of
garbage I am.”
The more I said, the more resentful I became, feeling the anger that was
the old Seifer Almasy’s trademark rising in my throat with all the other
emotions I had swallowed when I came to prison. Minutes ago I had been wallowing
in self pity, wishing that someone, anyone, would empathize with the pain
and loneliness I felt and now I couldn’t stand the thought of someone
feeling sorry for me.
I slowly started to come out of the scared position I had assumed when Quistis
entered my cell and advanced on her inch by inch, anger flashing in my eyes
and my hands shaking with unsuppressed emotion surging forth after being
contained in darkness and silence for so long.
“When have you ever cared, or anyone else for that matter, about what
I felt before? Why are you coming back now? So you can be the perfect little
instructor that everyone knows you are, so you can pity me and feel sorry
for me and make yourself feel better? You’re not a fucking saint, so
stop trying to be one. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need
forgiveness, not from anyone; not you, not God, not the whole shit-infested
world. I don’t deserve it and I don’t want it.”
She started to look scared and tried scooting away from me, but she was backed
up against the cold cell wall with nowhere to go. Her eyes became frantic,
a mixture of confusion and fear, but somewhere in them, I could see that
she still wanted to help me, to reach out to me, hoping that I would calm
down and let her reason with me and it made me even
angrier.
“You say you’re here for me, to apologize to me for everything
you’ve done to wrong me. That’s bullshit, and don’t think
I’m going to believe that for a second. You came here for yourself,
so you could stop feeling bad about what you couldn’t help and so you
wanted to seek my forgiveness. You wanted me to tell you it’s ok what
you did, it’s ok what’s happened to me so you can just forget me
and move on. You want this for yourself because you know what? You never
cared about me and you never will; no one will.”
She’s about to cry, I swear I can already see the tears welling up and
her lip is quivering. But I can’t stop.
“I always wanted you to care, dammit! You never saw it before, how I
loved you and how I love you still because you’re so caught up in your
own unrequited love and your own troubles that you can’t see
mine!”
I was face to face with her now, her blue eyes staring straight into my green
ones, and for a moment I was left without words I was so choked with emotion.
I knew what I was doing to her. My thoughts were so confused and so bitter
that they were getting all mixed up and not making any sense, so I hurled
them at her with poison in my voice, hoping to hurt her the way she’s
hurt me. I wanted her care, her loving smile and soft embrace for so long,
but I was never once graced with either. So now I want her to feel the coldness
and the loathing I felt when I couldn’t have her, when I lost her to
someone else. I want her to feel pain, the way I did. I want to hurt
her.
She looks so lost, eyes wildly searching my face, not knowing what she should
feel or say so she just stays silent. I can tell I’ve shocked her by
telling her I loved her, but I was past caring whether or not she could handle
everything I was pouring onto her at once. I’d kept everything bottled
up for so long, resigned to never being able to tell it to anyone, and now
that I could it was all rushing forth faster and more vehemently than I could
control.
All this time, no one to talk to, no one to understand me, no one to just
fucking listen.
And now here I was, unexpectedly inches away from the face of the woman
who’s haunted my dreams for as long as I can remember and I want to
throw her to the floor and pull her into my arms all at the same time. Just
like always, she’s making me hate her and love her at the same time.
I hate her because she feels sorry for me, because she came here trying to
lift a weight off her chest and somehow I don’t want her to, I want
the guilt and burden of my sins to weigh on someone other than myself I know
it’s so incredibly selfish but I do I do I want someone to acknowledge
my existence even if it’s through guilt because it makes me real and
it will keep me in her mind and if I’m not in her mind I think I’ll
just disappear and it’ll be like I was never here in the first place
and I can’t stand it I want her to see me to think of me
pleasedonteverforgetme....
I love her because she had the courage to try, to come here, because she
is the woman I’ve always admired and loved and can’t stop loving
because she’s so beautiful and smart and strong-willed. I love her because
a small part of me still clings to the hope that maybe someone out there
still cares, still remembers the way I was. That maybe she didn’t just
come here for her own peace of mind, but because she actually....cares.....about
me. I love because I want her to love me back.
Time seems to hold still for a second, and for once, I don’t really
mind.
She’s still wrestling over everything I’ve told her. I can see
emotions churning inside of her, a chaotic frenzy, and she’s trying
to sort it out, trying to reason with it like she always does. For once,
though, I don’t think she can. I’ve finally succeeded in making
her feel, making her see the confusion that has been my life, but I don’t
feel the triumph or relief that I thought I would. I only feel more
lost.
Finally her lips move, and it takes me a second to realize that she’s
speaking.
“Seifer....I.....never knew. I had no idea. You should’ve said
something.....Why didn’t.....why didn’t you say
anything?”
I only look at her, my eyes slanting and hardening, projecting everything
I want to say without words. And what could I have said? Would it have changed
anything?
I hate rejection.
Her lip shakes even more, and I’m positive she’s on the verge of
crying.
Good. I hope she’s suffering right now. I hope she knows what I feel.
I hope her heart is aching and her vision is blurred and her temples are
throbbing and her blood is burning and her mind screams with
confusion--
The tears fall, one down each cheek. They slip down her porcelain skin silently,
leaving glimmering trails of silver wetness, gliding like knives that slice
ice cold into my bitter heart.
I.....I’ve made her cry. I don’t want this. I don’t want her
to hurt, oh please stop crying! I can’t stand what I’ve done; I
wish I’d never told her. Why did I want this? Am I really that bitter,
that lonely, that angry? What a monster I’ve become.
I’m trying to think of what to say, my mind scrambling for a way to
take it back, to retract what I’ve done to her, quick quick quick I
have to make you stop hurting
and then your hand touches mine.
Time stops for the second time since I saw you walk in that door. Your touch
as you gently close your hand over mine sends shockwaves down my spine, even
though your fingers are barely touching mine. This is the first time I’ve
felt someone, the first real, human, solid contact I’ve had in months
and I’m amazed at how I could have ever taken so wonderful a sensation
for granted.
Your hand is astonishingly warm against my cold, pallid fingers. It feels
so good, so human. So you. I can feel small, rough calluses on your palm
from where you so tightly grip your whip, and it contrasts with the rest
of your hand, which is soft and delicate and pulsing with heat against my
skin. It feels so alien and yet so welcome, this warmth that spills over
from your hand and into mine, spreading into every muscle, every vein, every
bone in my body.
I’ve never felt anything this extraordinary in my life.
I tear my eyes away from where you’ve placed your hand so lovingly over
mine, and the look in those mesmerizing pools of cerulean blue that greet
them makes my heart stop.
You are so breathtakingly beautiful when you cry.
“I’m sorry......”
This time I’m not angry when you say it. I drink in your words, because
this time I believe they are sincere, that finally, finally someone has said
something to me with meaning, withcare in their voice.
“I’m so sorry....”
You’re leaning forward, bringing your face closer to mine, and I see
your eyes closing and your hand grips mine even tighter and your breath is
warm and gentle as it caresses my lips and you kiss me.
My heart races, and for a moment, a moment that seems suspended in time it
is so unreal, so inexplicably wonderful, I am no longer the filthy, scared,
cowering wisp of a human being that was sentenced to a lifetime of loneliness
and suffering, but a man. A real man, like I used to be. For the precious
moments that your soft lips are pressed against mine, I am again Seifer Almasy,
the tough, brazen, proud man full of dreams and hope and love, handsome and
tall and brimming with life.
There is so much clarity in the seconds that you reach out to me; I can see
myself laughing as Fuujin and Raijin fight over breakfast; yelling as young
cadets go scrambling at the sight of me and my clipboard; exulting as I spar
with Squall and beat him for the first time; blushing as I’m called
on by my gorgeous instructor. My hair is no longer unkempt, my skin is no
longer ashen, my eyes are no longer dull; I am as I once was, radiating glory
and honor in a sweeping coat of gray emblazoned with a fiery red cross: a
true knight, when I am kissing you.
For once, I want time to hold still. You make me feel so real and alive.
I could stay in this moment forever.
But of course, time never listens to anyone, least of all me. Another second
ticks by on the clock and you have separated from me, your eyes fluttering
open. I could have spent eternity secured in your lips, but the tick-tock
of the clock overhead doesn’t allow for dreams like mine to come
true.
Mercifully your hand has not left mine, for if you had withdrew all of yourself
from me so suddenly I would have gone mad. Instead, my clarity, my moment
of bliss drains away from me slowly, disappearing like wisps of a cloud being
drawn away from my mind. I desperately try to cling to the happiness that
bathed me in your kiss, but your warmth is slowly pulling away from me, and
the purity I saw for mere seconds is trickling away, leaving me cold and
wanting.
I’m me again, gaunt and dirty and scared. The cell around me which had
disappeared at the touch of your lips now melts back into view, a blackness
that starts at the edges of my vision and slowly seeps into substantiality.
I’ve tumbled headfirst back into reality, and it feels colder than
ever.
You watch me, piercing blue eyes searching for my response. I can’t
look at you; I simply can’t because I know I won’t be able to take
it, seeing you in here amidst all this filth and damnation. You’re a
reminder of the life I almost had, a glowing beacon in the middle of an abyss
filled with death and ruin; my fates. I can never leave this place; this
hideous cell is my future. That is my reality, not the bliss I felt in the
warmth of your kiss. You were a momentary reprieve, a moment of clarity and
hope that doesn’t belong in a place like this.
I can’t stand to look at you because it will only make me hurt
more.
I wish you had never come here.
But I force myself to look into your eyes, to savor the look and feel and
smell of you one last time. I know it will kill me, I know it will only magnify
the pain once you have left, but I can’t help myself. I simply
can’t.
I see you there, eyes still brimming with tears, hand still grasping mine.
You look so sad, so sad. I can feel your heart aching; you exude a sorrow
and a wretchedness I hoped never to see etched across your elegant features.
My heart is breaking. I’m helpless when it comes to you. I can’t
look at you anymore.
So I turn away again, and I hear you cry out softly to me, pleading to me
with those eyes shining with grief, but I can’t see them because I’m
struggling desperately to block out your
pleas.
“Seifer.....Seifer, look at me!! Please....why won’t you look at
me....”
Stop it. Just stop it. Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop
it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it
stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it
“Seifer!! Please!!!”
You think I want this? You think I want this fate?? To never know freedom
again? To suffer for all eternity in the hollowness that is life without
you? To be bound and broken by a darkness that I have condemned myself to
with my own hands, doomed to face an eternity in hell where I will forever
see my hands stained with blood I’ve spilt and lives I put to waste?
You think I want that? I don’t I don’t I DON’T!!!! But
you’re only making this worse for me. You don’t know how empty
I’m going to feel once you’ve left me in this place. So stop making
it worse.
“Look at me!!!! I want you to look at me!!! Can’t you see how I
feel about you? Can’t you see what I’m going through right now?
Can’t you see that I love you too?? Why are you doing this to
me??!?”
I want to be with you every second of every day for the rest of our lives,
loving you and watching you love me back and holding you, breathing you in
and being happy with you but I can’t! I want to SO BAD but it doesn’t
work that way.... We reap what we sow, and whatever I’m about to reap
you certainly don’t deserve. You deserve so much better and looking
at you reminds me of that.
“.......Seifer.......”
I will never look up at the stars with you. I will never take you to a carnival
and win you a stuffed animal. I will never share a sundae with you, made
with extra fudge just the way you like it. I will never take long walks in
the rain with you. I will never make love to you. I will never cuddle with
you by a warm fireplace on a cold winter night. I will never watch you walk
down the aisle, an angelic vision in flowing white and pale flowers. I will
never turn over in bed in the middle of the night to watch you breathe as
you sleep. I will never watch with you as our children grow up. I will never
grow old with
you.
“.........please........”
I’m doomed to spend eternity without you. Everything we can ever share,
I shared with you in that moment in which you kissed me; that was our eternity
together, and we have already spent it.
You try one last time to reach me, but by now your voice is only a broken
whisper and I’ve made myself deaf to your cries.
She is lost to me.
“Lady, your 15 minutes are up. You gotta go.”
She lingers for a moment, hoping feebly that I will turn around and look
at her, that I will embrace her and tell her again that I love her. I don’t
even move. The cot creaks again as she slowly, hesitantly rises, her hand
raising itself as if to touch me, caress me one last time, but then she turns
around and walks out the door and is gone, shutting out the only light I’ve
ever had in my life.
She never came back.
So here I am again, left listening in the darkness to the sound of a clock
that never seems to stop. Sometimes I dream about her, but those dreams are
always painful and fleeting and I wake up from them reaching out to her in
the darkness. I can’t count how many times I’ve woken up in the
middle of the night, my arm outstretched, disappearing into the blackness
in front of me, hoping to grasp her, to feel her warmth, to touch her one
last time. It’s then that I feel like crying. Sometimes an old, forgotten
part of me tells me not to cry, that real men don’t cry, but then I
remember that there is absolutely no one here and no one sees me and I let
go and I cry.
I hope she is off somewhere having the time of her life. I hope the reason
that I have never seen her since that time we kissed is because she’s
living the life I wanted to share with her with someone else, someone who
makes her happy. I hope she’s making mistakes, learning from them, taking
in every moment of life that she can and loving it. I hope she is looking
up at the stars. I hope she is taking long walks in the rain and eating sundaes
with extra chocolate fudge on them. I hope she is happy.
The only time a hand touches mine since she came is when the guards rain
down blows on me, and I actually look forward to it. It’s an empty,
disgusting mockery of her, a farce of human contact, but it’s all I
have. But then they deny me even that and they rain down blows instead with
their heavy boots, breaking every little last bit of pride and dignity and
self in my body into a million little pieces and crushing it with their black
boots until it scatters into dust under their feet.
It doesn’t matter anymore that I don’t have any pride left. It
doesn’t matter anymore that I cry in the middle of the night like a
little boy. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know anymore what it
means to be human. It doesn’t matter that I can’t remember what
love felt like.
Nothing matters when no one can see you.
And no one will see me. Because I will spend all of eternity locked away
in darkness.....
......all alone......
.......someone please take away that damned
clock.......
Author’s Notes: And there you have it, my first angst-filled fanfic.
Well okay, so it’s actually my first fanfic period if you’re going
to be all technical. That poor poor Seifer! He’s my absolute favorite
character in FF8, and yet I do such cruel things to him....I swear, in my
next fic I’ll give him a really happy ending to make up for it. Please
feel free to comment/criticize but try and keep everything constructive!
I really want to hear what people think about this piece. Try not to flame
me (though I’m sure some of you will....actually I’m sure a lot
of you will) but just keep in mind, this is the absolute first fanfic I’ve
written, so please be gentle!!! E-mail me at: genesis005@hotmail.com (P.S.
Please try and put something about FF8 in the title of the e-mail so I
don’t mistake it as spam and delete it.....not that I’ve ever done
that before or anything.......)