Been a while since I've done fanfiction...I'm probably a little rusty.
Title: Halo Slipping Down
Pairing: DollShipping (Giovanni/Mondo)
Notes: Inspired by "The Noose", by "A Perfect Circle".
I can't even stand looking at your face anymore. I hate the superior smirk you have, especially when you are trying to assure someone that everything is all right.
If you hadn't already decided their fate, you never would have called them up to your office. All you want is to watch them beg for their lives. The expression you have when they drop to their knees and weep makes me sick to my stomach. The last agent you killed was even younger than I am. I don't know what her sin was, but you sure made her suffer for it. By the time you were done with her, she was bleeding and sobbing, clinging to your pantleg and pleading for you to show her mercy. Your form of "mercy" was to shove the barrel of a gun down her throat and pull the trigger. I don't think I'll ever get the image of her blood gushing out of my mind.
When you first called me up to your office, I was just as scared as that poor girl was, if not more afraid. As soon as I closed the door, you stared into my eyes, and told me how angry you were with me. You didn't like that I don't wear a regulation uniform, you didn't like my crush on Miss Jesse, and you <i>definitely</i> didn't like how my Team performance was affected by her.
I couldn't say anything to defend myself. My tests and mission results were above average, but whenever I was around her, I forgot about my duties, and did whatever she ordered me to. I didn't mind--I was happy just to know that I was helping her. My loyalty should have been to the Team first, though, even if she was my reason for being there.
You calmly lit a cigar, and gave me an ultimatum. Either I could accept punishment for my disrespect towards the Team, or I could accept your offer: Come with you, and be at your side constantly as a personal guard. I've heard too many horror stories about what your "punishments" could be, so I quickly accepted your offer.
Looking back now, I can't believe that I didn't see the noose I placed around my own neck.
I can't stand being at public functions with you any more. Especially the charities for children that your front company makes. You, being the the president, attend most of the events. While you smile and make nice speeches, I wonder how many people know the number of lives you destroyed that were barely older than children. Including mine.
I used to be so innocent. Other agents would tease me because of how naive I was. Now, those same agents just glance at me quickly when they walk past, like they've seen a ghost. I think I know why now: Even though my face hasn't changed, I don't look the same. The reflection of my own eyes startles me now--it's like looking into tarnished mirrors, dull and flat. I wonder if other people see the nothingness there that I do.
I've become almost completely numb to everything you do now. Seeing you kill no longer makes me waking up screaming in the middle of the night. Feeling you abuse my body no longer makes me ache for days afterwards. I don't care what you say anymore, it all sounds the same to me. Life has become one long buzz, and I can't stand feeling like this anymore.
So, as I write this letter to you, Sir, I am tightening the rope around my neck. You've told me before that I would make a beautiful corpse--I wonder if you'll still say that when I'm not dead from your own hand.