Sometimes I forget why I'm here. They don't remind me of that. It's not something they care about, I guess. I'm here, and they can do anything they want to hurt me. That's all they care about. That's all they think is important.
They might have a point. I guess it really doesn't matter what it is that sent me here. But I want to remember. I want to know, just because it's the last piece of myself that really belongs to me. They can hurt me, make me scream in agony, make me beg them to stop. I'm here, and I'm going to stay here for pretty much forever, if I understand the metaphysics right. But I'm here for a reason, and somehow that makes it just a little bit better. It doesn't take away the pain I feel when they rip my heart out of my chest again and again and again, but it makes it a tiny bit more bearable. Knowing why I'm here helps keep me sane.
I saved one of them. I don't remember who. Anya or Willow or Buffy or Dawn or Tara. One of them. It wasn't Giles, I don't think. I'm pretty sure it was one of the girls. I think. It doesn't matter. It was someone I loved, I know that much. That's enough.
The sorceror shot some weird spell, and it was going to hit someone. Whoever. I jumped in front of it, took the shot for them. I'm pretty good at that, actually. I'm sort of proud of that fact. I figured the worst that could happen was I'd die and whoever it was I saved would live. I could handle dying.
I can't handle this. The blast sent me to hell. A hell, anyway. I'm not sure how many of them there are. It doesn't matter. One is enough. One place where every single thing that lives here seems to devote its entire life to finding new ways to make me scream is more than enough.
They're used to only being able to torture the Damned, you see. No fun in that, I guess. I was a willing sacrifice, even though I didn't realize that at the time. I guess my screams sound better. My fear tastes better. My pain is more exquisite. I'm the star attraction down here. Yay me.
If I weren't here, though, someone I love would be. I keep telling myself that. It's not enough, it's nowhere near enough, but it's something. When they tear out my eyes, I imagine them doing that to Anya. When they fill my lungs with blood, I imagine Willow. And so on. Everything they do to me, I remind myself that they could be doing it to whoever it was I saved. It's almost better that I can't remember which of them it was anymore. Makes it feel like I saved all of them, not just one. It's not enough, but it's something.
I worry, though. Sometimes I find myself wishing I'd never jumped in front of that spell. I wish I'd found a way to save whoever without getting hit. And that's fine. That's natural. But I know that soon I'll be wishing I never jumped in the first place. Wishing that Anya or Willow or Buffy or Dawn or Tara were here instead of me. And I know that as soon as I wish that, these bastards will have won. They'll have broken me like they've been trying so hard to do all this time.
They're not going to win, though. They think they will, but I know better. Soon I'll be gone.
They've moved onto a new torture, you see. They're not hurting me anymore, they're hurting everything I love. At first, I didn't know what was going on. I found myself in a hospital room with my mother and a bunch of doctors. She was screaming and crying and her legs were up and it took me forever to realize I was watching myself being born.
I saw myself come out of my mother. I saw myself scream my first breath. I saw the nurse take me away to clean me and weigh me and make sure I was healthy.
She was singing to me. I didn't recognize the tune, but I found I remembered it. It had always been inside of me, since the day I was born it had been inside of me, and I hadn't ever realized it. I looked into the nurse's eyes, saw the way she was looking at me, saw the way she was so gentle with me, and I realized she loved me. And I loved her. She was the first person I'd ever loved, not even a minute after I was born.
I had just figured that out when her body shattered under the blow of one of the demons. He laughed as he carved her up in front of me. He let her scream for awhile, just to make it worse, and then he killed her. He smiled at me as he licked her heart's blood off his talons.
Then I saw myself being handed to my mother. I saw the love in her eyes as she held me, so gently, and brought me to her breast. I knew as soon as I felt her warm hands that I loved her and she loved me. I almost broke, right then, because I knew what was coming next.
This time the demon came in slowly. I watched him stalk my mother. She was completely unaware of him until he pounced. I tried to close my eyes, to look away, but I couldn't. I couldn't move, couldn't close my eyes, couldn't do anything but watch. They wanted me to see what they were doing to her.
It took her a long time to die.
Later, they explained the rules to me. I was going to live every day of my life over again, and they were going to kill everyone and everything I had ever loved.
At first, I thought it wouldn't be too bad. Relatively, at least. Not too bad compared to some of the things they've done to me, I mean. My mother was already dead, after all, and I'd survived seeing that. Even if I didn't want to survive it, I had.
I should have known better. Mom was back and looking just like normal for my second day. And she died. So did Dad. And Grandma and Grandpa. And Uncle Rory. All of them died screaming, and I had to watch.
And it happened again the next day. And the next. And the next.
It wasn't just people. They burned all the things I loved, too. My favorite blanket. My teddy bear. My fire engine. I know none of that should have mattered a damn compared to my family, but it did. Somehow, it was just as bad. Knowing I felt that way was horrible. I hated myself for thinking like that.
I'm pretty sure that was the idea, of course. But it didn't change anything.
We've gone through five years now. Day by day by day. They've destroyed every single day of my life. Every day has been worse than the last, even though that shouldn't be possible.
But it's going to be over soon. They don't know it, but I do. After tomorrow, I'll be gone. Broken, but not in a way that'll make them happy. Everything I am will just be gone, and they won't be able to have any more fun with me. I almost wish I could stick around long enough to see their faces when they lose me, but I don't really want that. I just want it to be over.
And it will be. Because tomorrow they destroy the one thing that made me real. And I know, deep inside, that I'll be free of this place. My mind will just shatter, and they'll never be able to rebuild it. After I see what happens tomorrow, I'll be done. I'll be free.
Tomorrow they destroy the most important thing in my life. My heart. My soul.
Tomorrow is going to be September 2nd, 1986.
The day I met my Willow.