Voices in Your Head

Pairing: monster!ZarbonxZarbon
Warning: Yaoi, mindfuck, smut, non-con, a messed up plot bunny.

Voices in Your Head

Zarbon was going insane. What other explanation could there possibly be? He was hearing a hushed voice, whispering something that he could never quite make sense of. There was the feeling of eyes constantly on him no matter where he went, no matter how much he isolated himself. A deathly chill would suddenly pass through him whenever he heard those whispers, whenever he felt those eyes.

He'd watch others closely when that voice whispered in his ear. But they were completely unresponsive, without even a flickering hint of hearing something out of the ordinary. So Zarbon was sure he was the only one hearing it, that voice which was just a little too quiet to hear exactly what it was saying. And it seemed to be enjoying it. There was always an air of amusement and mockery within it.

The high possibility of insanity was what Zarbon put it down to when he started to search for that voice. To see if there might just be a source behind it that wasn't within his own head. Because it always sounded as though it was just behind him. That there was only the thinnest gap of air between Zarbon and whatever was whispering in his ear.

Through slow trial and error, Zarbon found that the voice became a little clearer in certain areas. Not enough to hear the exact words, but sometimes he was able to pick out the long s' that finished some hissing words. He supposed that it shouldn't be much of a surprise that the voice sounded clearer the closer he got to the dungeons that were spread deep below the base. It was the one area he had never been in. Frieza would always go down there alone to do what he would with those chained beneath the ground. Sometimes, if you passed close enough and listened hard, you could hear the faint sound of a horrendous screaming.

The mocking tone of the voice grew, which proved to be enough for Zarbon to push aside a fearful respect for Frieza's privacy and start walking down the stairway that lead to the dungeons.

Even after all he had experiences on a variety of assignments; it took a while for Zarbon's eyes to adjust to the suffocating darkness. During that time he kept walking into walls or cold, thick bars. A number of times he stumbled over things that felt a lot like chains or bones when he dared to reach out and investigate. The only thing he was certain of was the unmistakeable smell of rotting flesh. He guessed there were quite a few around him, all in various stages of decomposition.

As he walked on, running a hand along the wall to guide himself, he suddenly realised that the voice had stopped. That it had been completely silent since he had left the stairway.

He leaned against the wall, kicking out a foot and listening to the sound of bones smashing against each other. It seemed that he wasn't going to get his answers down here after all.

Then Zarbon felt something cold wrap around his thigh. Assuming it to be some sort of creature that had taken to residing down in the dungeons, he reached down to swat it away.

The same cold sensation came again, whipping around his arm to force it back and slam it against the wall. Zarbon's surprised yelp echoed off all the places he still had trouble seeing clearly. Then he heard the voice again.

"Found it yet?"

"You!" Zarbon whipped his body round as far as whatever restraining him would allow. But he saw nothing apart from the cells that were empty, save for the many bodies that littered the floors. "Where are you?"

His answer was the same cold sensation wrapping around his remaining free arm and leg, yanking them back against the wall. "I'm here," came the voice in his ear. "I'm all around you. I'm on your shoulder. I'm behind your hear. I'm in your head. I'm in your blood."

"Bullshit!" Zarbon spat. But, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, the voice was making sense in some twisted way. The only thing behind him was a solid wall. There was nothing in front of him that could talk so closely to his ear without him seeing. It appeared that he was the only physical being out of the two of them.

"You're so easy to anger if you push the right buttons. Because you never curse like that, do you? You consider such words too ugly."

Zarbon didn't respond, choosing to remain still and see what might happen. Taking on the tactic of letting the enemy attack first and using observation to think up a strategy of defeat.

At least that was how he hoped it would work out.

"You consider me too ugly. Yourself too ugly."

"I'm no monster," Zarbon spoke, his voice low as he immediately forgot his plan of silence.

"You are," the voice hissed. "I know when you're lying. You can't lie to yourself."

"Whatever you are, you're not me!"

"But I am!" the voice suddenly screeched, loud enough in his ear to make Zarbon flinch away before he realised he still didn't know what he was trying to get away from. Or even where it was. "I am you! The monster side. The darker side. The ugly side. You would rather die than admit I exist."

"You don't. Release me and never come to me again. You're not me."

"You've forgotten," as the voice spoke, whatever was restraining Zarbon tightened. He glanced down and thought for a moment that he caught a glimpse of claws gripping his wrist. "I haven't."

Then Zarbon saw it, as clear as day in front of him. Images flashing through his mind. They were brief but stayed long enough for Zarbon to recognise them. To suddenly recall those memories that he had struggled to exile from his head for so long.

A woman, looking older than she actually was, gripped a young boy's wrists. She shook him fiercely, shrieking in a mixture of fear and rage. All Zarbon heard was a loud drone, but he knew what she was saying.

"How could you? How could you?"

The young boy was restrained, very much like Zarbon was. An elderly man stood over his struggling form, trying a number of chants and rituals. The woman was being held back by another man. She struggled and thrashed and screamed as she tried to reach the boy.

The elderly man seemed to decide that it was time to resort to desperate measures. He took a blade and began to carve symbols into the boy's arms and legs.

The woman went ballistic. She screamed and thrashed furiously, reaching out to the crying child. Trying desperately to clutch at whatever she could reach.

The other man restraining her found that she was becoming too much. He struck her hard. Her neck twisted. There was a snap.

"Remember?"

"What is this?" Zarbon demanded as the image of the woman, her head now bent at an unnatural angle, faded from his mind.

"My true birth," said the voice. "You had violent tendencies before. Very violent tendencies. But you always claimed that you didn't remember. Blacked out and then woke up to discover yourself in a pool of blood that wasn't yours."

"You're making this up!"

"And then," it continued. "They found that you had killed another boy. A boy that you had been fucking. Or had been fucking you. Sleeping with another man and sadistic murder. Two birds with one stone."

"These aren't my memories!"

"Oh, they are. You escaped that little exorcism. With the death of your mother, you released the demon that was inside you. That's still inside you. When you woke up amongst another pile of bodies, you fled. And thought you got rid of the memory."

"These aren't my memories!" Zarbon screamed out. "I don't know what are and I don't care! I'm not a monster! I'm a general under Lord Frieza. I hold enough power to bring down armies of millions, even destroy small planets with a flick of my wrist. I-"

Zarbon was cut off when something sharp dug into his arm and dragged itself all the way down, tearing at the material that had been covering his limbs. His arm was lifted against his will and pushed into his face. Up so close, he could make out the many scars that went all the way down to his wrist.

Another image flashed through his mind. The elderly man carving the boy's flesh again. Only this time he could see it clearer than before. He saw that the symbols being cut into the boy's arm matched the shape of the scars that ran down both his arms and legs.

"What more proof do you want?" asked the voice as Zarbon's arm was once more forced against the wall.

"You're not me," Zarbon tried to insist again. But his voice broke before the words were forced from his throat.

His whole body suddenly burned and many claws or blades sliced through it. Something cut into his arms, his legs, his chest, his face. Everywhere.

Those claws then gripped at his body. Clutching again at his arms, wrapping across his stomach. Something closed across his mouth, shot up his nose, squeezed his throat.

Zarbon flared up his ki as high as he could push it. There was a very good chance that he would set off a lot of scouters and prompt others to investigate where he had. But there were other concerns that he considered a lot more important. Namely freeing himself.

Then, in the light of the ki that had surrounded his body, he saw it. A dark face made of shadows, pushed up so close that he could smell the rancid breath, even with his nose covered. It made him cough, but with something over his mouth all that resulted was a pressure building in his throat and chest.

The face was him, yet not him. The grinning mouth stretched to the top of its cheeks and revealed rows of pointed teeth. The skin was scaled and bumpy. Out of it peered two eyes with slitted pupils. Zarbon noticed the neck. It was stretched, looping out from somewhere behind to stare at him right in the face. Yet the only thing behind him was the wall.

"I am you," it said, pushing hot breath into Zarbon's face as it spoke.

Still Zarbon refused to believe it, shaking his head as furiously as he had seen the woman shake the boy.

The wide mouth twisted into a snarl. The shadow face pushed itself right up against Zarbon's, their eyes so close they were almost smashed together.

"I am you!"

The intensity of the burning sensation upon his body shot up. This time inside him. Something ripped and tore at him.

He fought. Thrashed. Pulled and tugged at the shadowed restraints. But all it ended up doing was pulling his legs further apart.

"Remember?"

All of a sudden he did. The memories flashed through his head again. And this time they were not forced upon him. Somehow he knew that they weren't. They were real.

That silent admittance within his head seemed to be the trigger for everything to suddenly retreat. The monstrous head, the shadowed claws, the forced invasion of his body. It all vanished and Zarbon suddenly found himself with a mouthful of stale air that stank of the many rotting corpses all around.

Then the laughter started. A cruel, deep laughter that echoed all around, making him unsure of the source. Then, still somewhat visible even in the dark, a shadow moved quickly across the floor. It was the signal for his body to move, for his legs to start running in order to persue it. He kept away from the walls, using the little memory he had of the dungeons to stay in the centre of the floor for the most part. Once or twice he found himself running into things, but had pushed himself away in a flash and was on the move once again.

Like before, Zarbon found his feet striking things as he went. There was the rattle of chains. The clanking of bones. He stepped in something wet. Something that looked like a rotting lung when he glanced down.

The stairway was taken three, sometimes five at a time. But no matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he pushed his body, the shadow stayed just out of his reach. The light that suddenly engulfed him as he emerged was blinding. The shadow was gone but that laughter was still there. Still right behind him. Directly in front of him. Within his head. Everywhere.

"You can't run from yourself. Can't escape what's in your head. No matter how much you try to push it away."

He fell to his knees, smashing his head against the wall again and again, still screaming.

There was the sound of something breaking in one loud snap. It echoed through every part of his mind and rang in his ears.

He was found hours later, laying unconscious. Unexplained scratches criss-crossed his body. What appeared to be old scars in odd shaped had been re-opened down his arms and legs. Blood ran down his face from a large gush in his forehead. The wall that Zarbon had been slamming his face against was also smeared with blood.

Zarbon's mouth had been moving ever so slightly up and down, muttering something that no one could hear no matter how closely they dared to lean in. Then his face cracked into a savage grin. His eyes flew open, revealing slitted pupils. A maniacal laugh echoed off the walls.

END