Prologue: Betrayal and Release
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in FF8 nor do I claim to. In any sense, beware! This fic contains major Squall angst and is an ongoing one, which means it has yet to be completed! Anyhoo, I really hope you guys like this because I am really getting into the plot and psychological effects of Squall's whole . . . um, "attack". To know what happened to him, though, you'll have to continue to chapter one because this is just the prologue. Okies, enough chit-chat, onto the fic!
The air was heavy with the stench of death. Everywhere were pools of crimson, some spreading in diameters of a few yards. It was hard to believe that all this blood came from one body. There was just so much; too much. It was the surroundings that frightened me, not the red sea forming at my feet.
Death had come; though it was not me, the one still bleeding, that it claimed. Only a couple meters away from my own worn out body lay the woman I had trusted . . . the woman whom I had even dared to love. Even as my vision blurred with tears I knew would never fall, I could still make out the shock in the wide, lifeless brown eyes of hers.
The room stretched on, seeming to go for eternity and was darker than my wildest and most terrible dreams. Blood was splattered and fluorescent on the black walls, glowing with the help of some demented, twisted sort of magic . . . her magic.
There was another person in the room . . . the least likely of saviors. He had been my enemy once, my rival, and, some very long time ago, my lover. All had happened in the past, at least a few years back. He was strangely still, silent . . . something usually not associated with him. The generally chiseled features looked astonished, his jade eyes wide as he realized what he'd done. Short golden strands of hair had splotches of red in it where blood from his targets must've gotten. Even on his fair complexion, little specks of dried blood were situated in various spots. The long, sleek looking gray trench coat was stained with the same color of the cross swords on each of its sleeves: crimson. The color seemed to be everywhere, and I knew I must have been soaked with it.
"Squall," he murmurs my name in horror and alarm as he refuses to take his eyes off of me.
If I had the strength to reply, I would have requested him to get me down. I couldn't blame him for just standing there, though. I must look a mess, maybe worse, and my position must look awfully painful to him. Guess it was pretty obvious that I was going to die soon. That was all right, though. I had long lost feeling in my body. My mind has even made my wounds oblivious to me, even as blood continued to flow from them.
She had had her lackeys string me up to a cross just over an hour ago; crucified in some sick fashion. They'd driven metal stakes through my wrists, watched and laughed as I screamed in agony. I had never felt such pain as I had then, pinned to the back of some religious symbol that had been made to fit my body, customized to make sure I felt every wave of hurt that they could possibly place me in.
"Seifer . . ." I breathe his name as my mind swerves with nausea, one of the many black outs I've had in the past hour ready to occur.
This must have snapped him out of his devastated stupor for he rushes up to me, working the chains that hoisted the cross up. As it was eased down, I relished in the weight taken off my much abused arms, sinking back on to the wood behind me. He works at getting the stakes out of my wrists, cursing when they wouldn't budge. I was completely numb, immobile. At the moment, I couldn't move even if I so badly wished it. So as I slipped back into unconsciousness, I felt the world leave me.
I awoke to the sounds of sobbing and a horrible pain wracked through my body, causing me to curl into myself as I moaned in despair. I could move. It came to me as a shock as I weakly wrapped my arms about my stomach, eyes clenched shut as I felt fresh tears spring up. That horrible scent of decease was missing and I noted that I must have been moved. There is shuffling going on around me and someone is at my side, whispering my name as they pet my hair. I was in Heaven or I was still alive. I prayed desperately that it was not the latter. I don't think I would be able to live after what had just been dealt to me. Daringly, I crack open my eyes, light flooding them which caused me to squeeze them shut again. It was such a huge contrast to that horribly dark room they'd locked me in. After a few seconds, I tried again. I was met with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, even if the emerald hues shimmered with tears and sadness. I awoke to the blond Adonis named Seifer Almasy, which meant I was still alive.