Lost, spiraling time. Minutes passed. What time was it? Ventus didn't know. Flitting in and out of reality. Here for a moment, then gone, reclaimed by madness and insanity. Clarity. A warm room. Police officers asking questions that I don't know the answers to.

"You're our only witness. You were there when he died. I know it's hard, but did you see who killed Vanitas?" An officer growls, determined to get the answer. Ventus smiled thinly, the man didn't care. Why would the police give a shit about Vanitas? The police officer just wanted his shift to end, so he could go home; it was so painfully obvious.

"Did you commit the murder?" A lanky, drunk officer asked.

"Give us something - anything!" Another officer pleaded, waving pictures of Vanitas's bloody, dead body all over the place. "How many were there? Did you see their faces or were they wearing masks? Can you . . ."

Fading. Goodbye officers; goodbye reality.

Goodbye, cruel world. Hello... horror.

Screaming. Ear-splitting, blood-curdling cries. Looking around, Ventus started wondering who was making such a racket and why they weren't being silenced. Then he realized that it was him screaming.

He focused on making the screams stop and they slowly died away to a whimper. He didn't know how long he'd been roaring, but his throat felt dry and painful, as though he's been testing its limitations for weeks without warning.

His hands and arms were bound by a straitjacket. Did those assholes really think that he would so stupidly harm himself? Vanitas wouldn't have wanted that. Ventus studied the cell he was imprisoned in. Padded walls. Dimmed lights. A steel door with a strong plastic panel in the upper half, instead of glass.

He stumbled to the panel and stared out. He couldn't see much - the area beyond was too dark, so the plastic's mostly reflective. He studied his face in the fake mirror. His eyes weren't his own - bloodshot, wild, rimmed with thunderstorm circles. Lips bitten to shreds. Scratches on his face, arms and legs - self-inflicted. Large bruises surrounding his jugular, his forehead, all over his body.

Flashes of Vanitas massacred his mind. Ventus was almost glad to slip back into the shell of his nightmares - almost gratefully.

Goodbye, cruel world. Hello, horror.

It had been exactly one year, two months, fifteen days, thirteen hours, forty-five minutes, and fifty-six seconds. In and out. Quiet moments of reality. Sudden flashes of insanity and terror. Time dragging or disappearing into nightmares. No ordinary time. No lazy afternoons or quiet mornings. The death impossible to forget. Grief and fear tainting his every waking and sleeping moment. He realized he was being held in an institute for people with problems - that's all what the nurses would tell him. No names.

The institution turned a corrupted boy into a broken man.

It was nighttime. During "curfew". It was one of his worst nights since he's been here.

Hallucinations of Vanitas haunted his mind. Good memories and the bad. The late night talks and the violent fights. But what haunted Ventus the most was the raven's voice. The raven's soft, bass voice... The voice that would coax him to sleep. The beautiful voice that would echo in his head forever.

They had taken off the straitjacket many months earlier, back when Ventus wouldn't have resorted to suicide. But now... It was different. Everything was different. The real Ventus had been replaced by a shell. He was broken. They took off his straitjacket. Big mistake.

Death. Now it seemed like a blessing. A rescue from the cruel reality he was in.

He kicked off his shoe, yanked down his sock, and shoved it down his throat. As the sock clogged his airways, he fell into a dream. A clouded haze of a dream.

In his dream, it was the one memory that Ventus would always cherish of Vanitas. Just sitting in bed, smiling and teasing each other... It had been morning. Vanitas was poking at Ventus's sides and tickling him to no end. Ventus was making high-pitched laughter. Vanitas smiled and hugged the boy tightly. Ventus hugged him back.

"Ventus, I love you," Vanitas kissed the boy's lips gently, using a hand to caress his cheek.

"I love you, too," Ventus gazed into the amber-eyed optics of his lover.

"Ventus... I want to spend forever with you."

"What do you mean?" Ventus tilted his head to the side, confused.

Vanitas got up and pulled a little black box out of the drawer. Ventus gasped, knowing immediately what it was.

Vanitas bent down on one knee, asking only one question, "Will you marry me?"

But before Ventus could say anything, the clouded haze was gone.

Darkness followed and wormed its way down his throat, killing the one word out of his vocal chords.

"Yes."

Goodbye, cruel world. Hello, horror.