"I can't run anymore,
I fall before you,
Here I am,
I have nothing left,
Though I've tried to forget,
You're all that I am,
Take me home,
I'm through fighting it,
Broken,
Lifeless,
I give up,
You're my only strength,
Without you,
I can't go on,
Anymore,
Ever again."

Evanescence - October

Am I the broken butterfly you dreamed of?

All she could do now was run. It was the only escape. Escape the pain. Escape the torture. Escape the nightmares.

Escape.

There was no bravery in being the playtoy of monsters- true demons disguised in flesh and blood, walking amongst others as men of the cloth- men who worshipped their God. Their God had abandoned her. Forsaken her and left her to the mercy of demons. There was no courage in what she had endured. Only pain. Only sadness. Only an ache so deep and unbearable, there were no words to describe it.

She fell, sobbing into the forest grass, her blood-stained hands curling around the dead leaves.

In this dark place, butterflies die.

It had become too much for her to bear. Her father, whom she had loved so much, the father for whom she had 'sacrificed' herself for the safety and protection of the kingdom, refused her. He'd laughed in her face, spitting at her that she was nothing more than the whore of a demon. The whole court had laughed at her and cheered as he ordered her to the dungeons.

The only 'mercy' she was allowed was to remain unspoiled as a maiden- her father had decreed to mate with her- 'mate', as if his own flesh and blood were less than human- would to allow the darkness to spread.

She had stopped fighting. She had stopped caring and only began to pray for death. She had even begged the clerics. She had begged her father to allow her to die. They all laughed at the request. She was something less than human now- what right did she have to make a request of them?

And the people thought the Dark One was cruel- the one being on this earth who had shown her kindness, until the end.

Days quickly turned into nights- nights of floggings. Threats whispered in her ear as if they were speaking to a lover.

But I suppose that's how it's meant to be. To have a moment of beauty and freedom, only to have their wings torn off by the hands of monsters.

Gaston had entered the prison earlier that night, dismissing the clerics. His breath smelled of mead, his eyes glazed over.

"Tell me, did you offer that demon what rightly should be mine?" he slurred. Belle whimpered, fearful of what he was planning. Her whole body began to shake.

"Come now, dear Belle. Kiss me as you kissed that monster," he said, lunging to her in a drunken stupor.

Her screams had gone unheard as he tried to untie her soiled gown. In his state, he could barely see the ties and buttons, so he reached for his dagger.

It was her only chance. Before he brought the dagger to her gown, she grabbed it and drove it into the empty cave in his chest where a heart should be. He made no noise, no sound or screams. He simply fell to the floor, dead.

The horror of what she had done had not sunk in until she had escaped, until she could feel the warmth of the blood on her hands and gown.

That one brief moment of beauty until the monsters both in flesh and mind tear us down; that one brief moment of false hope.

"WHY?!" she screamed to the empty skies, shaking and shuddering in dear and horror. There was no answer- no answer that could ever be considered 'fair' or 'just'. No, those were mortal concepts. They didn't truly exist. The only proof of their existence was what the leaders and kings turned and twisted for their own benefit.

She just wanted to go home. To the one place she felt at peace. To the one place where she wasn't scorned or treated as an object.

No. It couldn't happen anymore. She was a monster.

A lovely curse and broken blessing- butterflies are nothing more than broken wishes of the damned.

Grief overtook her as she fell asleep.

Was she dead, as was her wish? No...it was another torture. Heaven was now far out of her reach. But Hell...Hell couldn't be this lovely.

She felt hands caress her face and began to cry. This was Hell. The Hell she deserved. The Hell she was damned to.

"Shh.." a familiar voice spoke, only causing her to cry more. This was more than torture. Is this what damnation truly was- to be taunted with the voice of the one she loved more than anyything?

"Belle, please look at me," the voice said, placing a hauntingly familiar hand on her cheek, a slightly scaly thumb gently wiping away her tears.

Resigned to have the torture complete, she complied.

It was her Dark One.

"It's a trick," she said sadly, knowing he wouldn't come for her. She was a broken doll of no use to anyone. Who would want her.

"No."

The conviction of the Dark One almost drove her to laugh. She felt like she was on the edge of insanity.

"All right, Dark One," Belle spoke, sitting herself up. She began to untie her gown, only to feel his hands on hers, pulling them to her sides as she struggled.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice deadly.

"I might as well give in. I'm too tired of fighting. No matter what, even though I'm claimed as the whore of the Dark One, my body is still desired. Please, allow me to show you what the body of a whore looks like," she cried.

The Dark One looked at it, horrified at what had been done to her. This was not the Belle he'd known. This was a broken beauty.

But broken or not, he still loved her.

"This is not a trick," he said, enunciating the words clearly as he looked into her eyes.

Something broke inside her, perhaps the desperate -need- to believe that she was loved and cared for, the desperate need to believe he'd cared enough to save her.

She fell forward into his arms, crying as she buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, fighting his own building rage at the thought of what she had endured.

"My beautiful Belle. What have they done to you?" he whispered into her hair.

"Please. Please don't send me away again. Please don't leave me again. Please," she begged, terrified at the thought of never seeing her Dark One again.

"No love. Never again. You're home," he whispered, holding her tighter against him.

But maybe that's why butterflies simply are. Altruistic- they live for others; to give others the hope that there is beauty in the darkest of places.

A/N: Part 1 of 4. This is going to be a lot darker than I'd thought, but in light of some personal things, it's best to write it out than let it lie inside.