[[ Just to begin with:
I do not own V for Vendetta;
The original characters however, do belong to me.
Dedicated to: My dear Anna; for even the smallest seed can become the most beautiful rose. You will grow to be strong and full; Majestic and unique. The world is yours to explore, but you have to trust the wind. I say this to you, asking to be your wind. I wish to guide you in any way possible, even if it is disastrous, meaningless, or even just of plain selfishness. I ask to be your tool for love, life and knowledge. I ask to be your thorns on your rose…
I ask to be important to you.
The 5th of November…
It was but five years ago. The rebellious terrorist V bombed a national monument, the building of Parliament, causing the ultimate downfall of the chancellor.
At least, that is what I have heard from my sister, from one of her never ending gushing tangents. It disgusted me when she stood up in front of her full-length mirror, speaking softly, her hands to her lips shyly. She claimed to be practicing. When I actually stopped and listened through her door, I realized that she was confessing her love to him. It made me think negative thoughts toward my sister; I knew well that he would never hear those words that passed her lips. But she reassured me, telling me that V would eventually come for her. I just told her it was a load of bull and told her that she was crazy.
I never liked V to begin with. He sounded like a loon that wanted to toy with society like a cat toys with a mouse. Even after he broadcasted his message to every TV, I didn't change my opinion of him. After his little façade with the media, my sister never saw the world the same. Every move that V made, my sister was right beside his ideas, supporting him all the way. I was instantly discarded for my negativity towards V's actions. I just didn't understand what he was doing; for all I knew, he was just sitting on his butt twiddling his thumbs to watch everyone humiliate themselves on the upcoming November 5th
Since my sister discarded me, she completely stopped talking to me all together. She began hanging out more and more with her friends. What were my parents doing you ask? Originally, they didn't like V either. (They thought he was a brand of clothing to be honest.) After they heard of his actions, they instantly discarded his ideas as 'foolish' or 'disruptive'. They believed that he was disturbing the peace, creating ripples in the water to shake the frail and fragile leaf that our peace was. After a while though, they couldn't help but notice how testy the government was getting over this one man. They eventually started checking up on his past, and present, actions. They realized that this so called 'disturbance' was actually making some sense. They almost seemed as enthusiastic about V as my sister.
With November the 5th drawing closer and closer, I knew that I had to make a decision. Would I stand by my family's ridicules beliefs, or would I be alone on that night, watching from the safety of the four walls I call my room? Since it was drawing near, my sister and her so-called 'friends' began ignoring me completely. I was shunned, and was then a figment of their imagination. They were too busy rallying supporters for their 'reunion'. She started this group at school; thinking that if she could draw in enough people, V would notice her and her feelings towards him. She then ultimately believed that he would realize his own, swoop in, and carry her away like some Prince of the Night. Again, all I could do was just sit by and watch as person after person piled into my house for one of their elaborate secret meetings. Every night I found myself desperate and alone as I sobbed into my pillow. If my sister heard, she'd bang on the wall; or knock on my door and tell me to shut up.
I couldn't help feeling that way; my parents were never home. They were at a meeting or protesting. I was surprised that the Fingermen hadn't caught onto my family's actions; and their support for that Terrorist. It never ceased to amaze my sister's loyalty to that thing. In her closet, hidden by her clothing, was a shrine. It was entirely dedicated to V. She sold her most prized possessions just to pay for his poster, his statue, and even the red and black candles that were constantly lit. I'd often peek into her room and see her closet light illuminating her dark room. I knew she was in there, having one of her sacred rituals, or even making some stupid oath that was ridicules and, most likely, dangerous.
On the night of November the 4th, I heard the door slam long before midnight. My parents and sister had gone out to gather their mini-groups, and pull them together into a small army. They were prepared to die for this one man's idea. This man, who was unable to show his true face; this man was just a speck to begin with. I sat in my room frustrated and sobbing in my pillow. How could my family love this Thing more then me?! How could they just abandon me here? All my thoughts, emotions, and lack of knowledge caught up with me. I cried long and hard, just wallowing in my self pity. I finally calmed down, but it was only a half an hour before midnight. It had taken me four hours to get out all my sorrows, all my frustrations. I opened my window, the night air embracing me and sending chills through my flannel pajamas. I turned to my right, grabbing a sweatshirt and then climbed out onto my window ledge. Reaching up, I grabbed onto the right corner of my roof, pulling myself up onto the sturdy shingles that would become my seat for the next twenty-nine minutes that lay ahead of me.
The bells then chimed, marking the start of a new day; A new age. They rang out through the vacant streets, reaching my ears and the thousands of others that stood around the Building of Parliament. I stood, my eyes scanning the horizon, attempting to find this majestic monument. I waited one second, and then another. I bit my lower lip, scanning the streets for any sign of change. Then I heard it; the music was soft at first, but then it grew. It grew to be so loud, I could hear it in my eyes, my mouth, my body, my soul. I could recall the tune, the instruments, the beat; all of it was exhilarating. Then I realized how familiar it was. It was the same song that I heard my sister humming; the same song I heard in her room every day and night.
It was his song.
Well, not his literally, but it was like his trademark. I didn't know the name of the song. I thought it was Beethoven, but I never heard him anymore. All the excitement had rushed to my head. Without realizing it, a smile was on my face. The wind seemed to pick up, the night not as cold as before. I shut my eyes, taking in a breath of the cool night air. This was life; I was being reborn once again. A feeling then coursed through my being, causing me to open my eyes and shift my face towards the west. I was just in time to see the building go down. It was like the videos of the Fourth of July that I had seen online, only it was real, and it was in front of me. I almost fell off my roof as I tried to get closer to the excitement. A whistling sound emitted as the fireworks shot up into the air, and then burst into red streams of light. Two lines crossed creating a giant 'V'. There he was; supporting his people. I shook my head, sinking down to my knees, and then leaning back to sit on my rear. The shingles were hard, cold and uncomfortable, but I didn't care. I just stared intently at the fireworks, unable to draw away from the spectacle before me.
I never got the chance to tell my sister how I felt; or even apologize for being so harsh on her. The second day after the revolution, there were reports of a charred body in the rubble of the nonexistent building. The following day, my sister took her own life. We found her in front of her shrine, three long jagged lines through her V poster. She had scratched at it much like a cat would have swatted at a measly piece of yarn. She was on the floor, wearing her replica outfit of V, blood in a puddle surrounding her lifeless corpse. As I lifted her up to speak to her, I saw that her wrists had been cut. She had committed suicide, for the man she believed that she loved.
There was no warning;
No good bye.
I still remember to this day how torn up my family is. V did this to us; he gave us hope, but in exchange, tore our family apart. I now live alone, in my own apartment. I had to get away; my parents were devastated at first; but after the first year, seemed to forget they even had a second daughter.
Tomorrow is a very important and memorable day for me. It's the day we celebrate Roselia's death, and our precious revolution. It has been called many things, but I will always remember it as only one name.
November the 5th