A/N: Hey peoples! This was just some random oneshot I thought of when I read some dark fics. I've noticed that most of my sad fics have at least a faint glimmer of hope for at least one character. I wanted to write something in which there was no hope, just pain and sorrow and hopelessness; something dark. That's where the idea for this fic came from. I went through several different ideas for what fandom I should write this for and even what characters. Eventually, I settled for the Bleach fandom using Ulquiorra and Rukia. I hope I did a good job with this; this is my first dark fic.
Anyways, please read, enjoy, and of course, review. ^^"
She couldn't help it.
She was lost, spiraling down an endless abyss of false love and worthless hope; lost dreams.
Her hero was gone, powerless… He couldn't even see her anymore.
Every day, she had spent precious moments with him, precious fleeting moments. She wanted to turn the hourglass, to prolong what miniscule amount of time they had left, to make whatever remained last forever. But it was all in vain. She was just a shinigami, an entity significantly more powerful than a mere human, a vulnerable mortal; yes, that much was true… but her abilities were worth no more than a single grain of sand—one among countless others—when compared to the unspeakable power of a deity.
And it was when he finally ignored her words of greeting—which soon became pleas, cries for attention, screams begging for acknowledgement—that Rukia finally realized that it was all over; he didn't even realize she was right next to him. Ichigo would get over her, forget her. He would sweep Orihime off her feet. They would get married, start a family… be happy. It was that cold and cruel realization that made the bitter bile rise from her stomach. She didn't return to Soul Society, in her anguish, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind.
She should have gone back.
Her despair attracted something; something dangerous.
She raced out of her hero's abode, competing with her heart, trying to leave it behind. Hadn't it already caused her enough pain? The flower of night had already blossomed within the sky, bright pollen lighting each dark petal; it wasn't safe, especially considering what hidden shadows were presently stalking her…
Eyes of dead emerald tracked Rukia's every move, more efficiently than even the most advanced radar could an oncoming missile. As the shinigami rounded the next corner, she found that simply running was insufficient to suppress her sorrow, and she fell to the ground, clutching her aching chest, trembling with each new onset of moisture trickling from her behind her eyelids.
The predator noticed that this was his chance; he used it well.
With little time to struggle, let alone mentally process what was happening, Rukia was caught in the painful grip within the furred arms of some beast. "… Don't resist… woman…" Cold breath impacted her ear, causing her to shiver from both fear and the low temperature. Her heart practically burst at the seams when her mind had finally caught up to the sensation of being tightly bound; she knew her captor… and the realization of just who it was practically gave her a seizure. He was dead… He… He shouldn't be there! It was all too much!
"You are mine…" the chilled puff of air touched her earlobe again; her heart plummeted.
"I-I belong to no one, Espada." Rukia mumbled. She knew that her verbal interference would only make things worse for her, but she couldn't just do nothing!
Ulquiorra, the Espada originally presumed dead, chuckled lifelessly. "You don't seem to understand your position, shinigami. You now belong to me. You are to do with as I please." he emphasized his point by deceivingly tenderly cupping his talons beneath her left breast, "Now do you comprehend your situation?"
Rukia wriggled beneath his hold, finally knowing just what his purpose was. But her heart was already shattered. What was the point? The one she loved could no longer see her, no longer acknowledge her… he would eventually forget of her existence…
"No one will rescue you…"
It was those words that, in her weakened and vulnerable state, were enough to still her movements. She submitted to his will.
It was since that night that she never returned to the World of the Living, or even to Soul Society. Ulquiorra brought her to the ruins of the once-glorious palace known as Las Noches. Every night, he ravished her. It took little time for her to adjust; she even came to adore the sensations, both painful and pleasurable.
It wasn't long before Stockholm Syndrome set in.
Rukia loved this literally heartless man—or at least she thought she did—enough to do any favor he asked of her.
Ulquiorra became everything to her.
If he wanted to leave her alone, that was fine. If he wanted to ravish her, then, well, that was fine too.
When he left her alone, she felt forsaken, worthless.
When he ravished her, she felt some corrupted sense of completion. Each brutal thrust was for himself, not her. Each growled word was for his own satisfaction, not hers. If he climaxed first, he would immediately exit her and leave her on the bed once all was said and done, used, abused. Rukia relished the times where she would come first; she felt whole, complete.
But it was all a false sense of security; it was all a lie.
Her captor was fallen from grace as Lucifer was. The fallen angel who would take her every night thought nothing of her. Just a puppet to manipulate as he so chose. But it was okay; she was okay with that. Unbeknownst to her, each and every time she was taken, pieces of herself would crack and fall away. This happened for so long, and she was completely unaware. She slowly lost herself, who she was. Rukia was so blissfully unaware... and she didn't even notice, she couldn't even feel it.
She didn't even know it… She never even noticed it when the final shards of herself had collapsed.
When she finally realized sometime later that something had happened to her, that's all it was to her.
Just… a simple… collapse…
And to her, it meant nothing.