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sunnynwanda · 3 months

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House of Memories

Based on the snippet Newspaper clippings.

The room is spinning at an ungodly speed when Villain looks away from the last clipping in their trembling hands. The walls are closing in on them with every shaky exhale that slips past their parted lips. Their pulse is throbbing in their ears, the pressure obstructing their hearing. They feel like they were skyrocketed into outer space, enveloped by its dreadful silence. The air is too dense to inhale; they are suffocating, gasping for oxygen, struggling to swallow down the lump in their throat. Tears well up in the corners of their eyes again, threatening to spill down their pale cheeks as they card a hand through their hair and over their forehead, not registering the bead of sweat running down the side of their face. They feel numb as they run their cold fingers over their arms, trying to pull their chaotic mind into a semblance of a person.

After the initial shock passes, Villain springs to their feet, ignoring the nauseous churn of their stomach and running downstairs to search for more information. They find their biography retold by dedicated fans on forums and websites. They find lists of their accomplishments, events held as homage to their work, and even whole shrines constructed in their memory. Many still harbour hopes of them returning. Some even tried looking for them, despite having positively no idea what Villain looked like. Hero was meticulous in their quest to erase any trace of Villain from the face of the Earth.

By the time Hero's car screeches to a stop in their driveway, Villain has calmed down. They greet Hero by the door and, despite their reluctance, kiss them on the cheek. Hero talks about their day at work while helping Villain set the table and maintains the conversation through dinner. Villain cannot find it within themself to talk, instead opting for nods and hums here and there. Their mind is swarmed by countless whys and what fors, left in anguish and confusion.

"Is everything alright?" Hero quirks an eyebrow at them, taking note of the tension weighing on their spouse's shoulders. Villain nods slowly, still deep in thought. "How was your day?"

"O-okay.. it was okay," Villain squeezes out in hopes to drop the subject. After a moment, their eyes shift to look at Hero, determination setting deep inside their cracking heart. They shrug, and it takes everything in them to act nonchalant. "I finally cleaned the attic."

Part of them still harbours hope that maybe, just maybe, it's not what they think it is. They don't want to believe it is true. They don't want it to be true. They want to wrap themself in Hero's arms and forget they ever opened that box. They could have misunderstood it. It could have been an accident, right? Or, a stupid joke. A prank, for all they care. Anything, anything at all that would stop their heart from hitting rock bottom, shattering at their feet as they force a pained smile onto their face.

Please. Please. Please.

Hero pauses, sending a sharp jolt of pain through Villain's entire being. They can feel it radiating off of the hollow space in their chest to their limbs and up their throat, rising like bile and exploding in their temples. They squeeze their eyes shut, gripping their fork until it bends between their fingers. Hero shallows thickly, before they meet Villain's glassy gaze with the most terrified expression Villain has ever witnessed on their face. They try to come up with words, but nothing crosses their mind except for panicked ringing. Their mouth remains agape, but their voice never comes.

"Do you have anything to say?" Villain finally manages, voice still carrying a grain of hope. Please. How foolish of them.

"I-I love you," Hero mumbles, face incredulous. They were not ready for this conversation. Villain scoffs at that, shaking their head in disbelief. Hero tries to salvage the situation, only making it worse. "I meant to tell you... one day."

"One day," Villain breathes out. They feel benumbed, and their senses are stupefied with the unresolved incertitude.

There's no mistaking it anymore - it was never an accident. It has always been a part of the plan. A depraved, vile, inhumane plan.

"I never meant for you to find out like this." Tears flood Hero's eyes as they get up, crossing the room and kneeling by Villain's side. They try to capture their hands, but Villain pulls away.

"You never meant for me to find out at all," their voice is hardly above a whisper when they speak, lips trembling so violently that they have to press them together to keep whimpers of pain from escaping. They feel sore all over, prickling with recollections of Hero's every touch, every kiss laid on their skin, every mark left by them. It's an ache that gnaws at their throat, burns their eyes with salt, and tears their flesh with crooked claws and sharp teeth.

"Villain, please, hear me out," Hero's voice reaches Villain through a haze of hurt. They shake their head no, but Hero persists. "Why do you think I kept those clippings?"

"To gloat your twisted victory," Villain offers, willing themself to get up only to collapse back onto their chair when their knees buckle under them.

"Is that how little you think of me?" Hero's arm shoots up to support them, but they push them away. It's a little too strong, causing Hero to fall over on the soft carpet. Villain remembers the day they bought it. They had spent several hours looking for a perfect match for their dining room, and upon finding it, decided to celebrate by having a movie night on it.

The hurt crushes over Villain in tidal waves, leaving them gasping for air once again. Hero doesn't move - a twinge of guilt flashes over their face when Villain turns to look down at them.

"You lied to me," they whisper, no longer controlling the quiver in their voice. "You erased my memory. You erased my very existence from people's minds so no one could recognise me. And then had the fucking audacity to show up in my hospital room and act like my spouse! So, yes, that's what I think of you!"

They get up onto wobbling feet, holding onto the wall as they try to walk, and Hero follows them. "Where are you going?"

They want to scream, to wail, to rip Hero apart the same way they are torn into bleeding pieces, to put them through the same agony. Yet their words barely make it past their lips. "Anywhere away from you."

"Stop, love, let me explain," Hero reaches for them again, expression splitting into that of hurt, and Villain hates how it pangs through their nape.

"Don't. Fucking don't, Hero," they growl, ignoring Hero's pitiful look. "You have no right to call me that."

"We need to talk," Hero looks baffled but doesn't back down - they stand firmly in front of the door like that can keep Villain from leaving.

"About what?" Villain snaps, throwing their hand into the air. For a second, they think about slapping Hero but restrain themself, opting to tug at their own hair. "Everything I know is a lie. Damn it, I don't even know who I am!"

"Villain, I- I had to do it," Hero hiccups, swallowing their tears and taking a deep breath to compose themself before continuing under Villain's inquiring stare. "There was no way around it, but I never planned to keep you in the dark forever."

"I don't believe you." The words taste bitter in their mouth, but they savour it - roll it on their tongue as a brutal reminder. "You cried. You begged me to remember you, to recognise you! Gods, you were on your knees!" They are sobbing at this point, tears streaming down their face in currents of resentment and dejection.

"I meant it. Every word of it," Hero laments, running their hands through their hair.

"No, you did not," Villain shakes their head solemnly. "All that for your demented game. You played your part perfectly." They can feel the pounding at the base of their neck where it connects to their head - a promise of a rising migraine. "You could have told me. Five years. You couldn't find a moment in those five years to tell me you had to erase my fucking personality and make me your... what am I even?"

"My entire life, that's what you are," Hero's reply earns nothing but a disgruntled chuckle from their spouse. "I tried to tell you. Many times."

"Yeah, right," Villain's tone is bitter even to their liking. They can't be bothered to care for decorum, when they are falling apart in the middle of the damn entryway.

"Villain, please," Hero drops to their knees, wrapping their arms around Villain's mid, pressing their forehead to their stomach. "I couldn't do it. I tried - but I couldn't bring myself to ruin everything we had. We were happy. You were happy. I was scared I'd lose you."

"You did," Villain confirms Hero's every fear, but their voice betrays them, breaking when they try to order. "Now return it to me."

"What?" Hero looks up at them with tears staining their flushed face.

Villain pries their arms off their body, backing away to put some distance between them. "Return my memory."

Hero goes rigid. Their shoulders sag under the weight of Villain's gaze. "I can't."

"Of course," Villain steps towards the stairs with a short nod. They need to grab their bag and get out of those walls before they collapse over their head, burying them alive under layers of concrete and debris.

"I'm sorry," Hero tries to stop them with one last attempt. They are on the verge of a breakdown; their entire body shudders when Villain pushes past them. "I'm so sorry, love."

"Don't you dare apologise now," Villain sneers over their shoulder before disappearing upstairs. They hear Hero sobbing when they walk out and shut the front door. They don't look back, afraid they won't find it in them to leave if they do.

An enormous part of them yearns to go back, climb into bed and find solace in the comfort of Hero's arms. They want to fall into oblivion, blissful nihility of mind, to forget the truth and deception, to forget the knife in their back and the kisses on their forehead every time they had a nightmare. They want to forget every laugh they shared, every happy moment, the love in Hero's eyes, the tenderness of their touch, the way their heart fluttered every time Hero shot them that damned smile they loved. They want to forget.

Oh, how they want to forget.

Newspaper Clippings snippet

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