(Narnia) Broken Pieces -Caspian X- A One Shot Collection

Can't Feel

He was meant to be asleep now, but Prince Caspian sat against his bed, on the floor, feeling the warmth trickle down his cheek.

He stared at the ground, darkness filling the room around him, leaving but the light of a flickering candle.

Today was his birthday; he'd turned fourteen. It had been a mostly good day, as good as it could be. There had been a celebration like every year. Another year like the last few- still unable to gain his uncle's approval, still unable to earn his love.

Still wishing the same wish he'd wished every year.

Caspian had accidently said it in front of his aunt, not snapping his mouth shut fast enough to avoid consequence. Aunt Prunaprismia had been furious, declaring him ungrateful. All the care she'd been giving him, and he wanted something else. He hadn't meant it like that, though he didn't count all her actions as care. He simply wanted his mother and father.

Needed to be loved; wanted.

He truly was grateful for the care his Aunt and Uncle gave him. He tried so hard to be, so hard to please them. Caspian had known he was in trouble after that, though he wasn't sure why, beyond the strong dislike they held of him.

He didn't know why wanting his own family was so awful, a real, true family, but it always irked Miraz when he mentioned them, and he knew his aunt would tell Uncle Miraz and that he would also be angry. Other than hating his nephew, that seemed hardly a reason for anger, yet it would be enough for him.

Caspian wasn't complaining about them, even though they really gave him no reason not to, but they believed him to be selfish, a quality they disliked in him.

One he disliked in himself.

He was tired of always being the problem. Wished he wasn't such a burden for them. Desperately, he wanted to know what he'd done to make them hate him so that maybe he could fix it.

At least he could've tried.

Caspian sniffed, brushing his cheek, biting his lip at the pain, a feeling of familiar anger and fear rising up inside him, the empty, lonely feeling that hurt so much. Drowning him in sorrow. And then the tears would come, and he would try to stop them.

Every time.

Again, his cheek felt wet, the throbbing, stinging pain slowly climbing. Caspian knew these feelings well, and he didn't want to do it again.

Didn't want to feel- didn't want to cry.

Once more, Caspian swiped at the drip on his face, feeling the sticky smear on the back of his hand. Slowly, he stood, opening the door cautiously and peering down the hall. He remembered a feeling he'd once felt, or rather, didn't feel. A time when he couldn't hurt. It had been an accident then, an unintentional mistake, but now, he wanted it back...

Caspian didn't remember exactly how he'd reached it, but he was quite confident he could do it again. Against the constant nagging of his better judgment, Caspian drank. Again, and again, until the world seemed to matter much less.

Until his face didn't hurt- and neither did his heart.

He stumbled back to his room, slowly, feeling blank, but so much freer than when he'd left. It was easier to not care- not feel. The things that bothered him so much normally didn't even feel like reality. And right now, Caspian didn't care if it was wrong. He wanted to forget. And for one night, he did...

●○●

Caspian blinked at the sunlight pouring through his window. His head hurt, and he felt awful. Dizzily, Caspian stood. This, he didn't enjoy- this and the weight of reality crashing back, the familiar lonely ache.

The constant searching for something else.

Carefully, he washed his hand, then his face washing away the dried blood. Looking in the mirror, he could hardly see the small cut under his eye, now barely even a scratch. His uncle's ring was sharper than it looked.

He winced as he brushed his hand over the faint bruise, turning away from the mirror and shaking his head, trying to clear away the exhaustion and confusion that accompanied his every move. As long as he was able, he would stay locked in here, avoiding any questions.

Thankfully, he wasn't that hungry. He could skip breakfast entirely. If a servant brought a tray, he would turn them away.

They wouldn't care.

Caspian laid back on his bed, head throbbing. Last night may have been a blur, but life was the same. Right now, he felt worse, not better. He finally let his tears fall- bitter, angry, fearful, and hurt- no longer avoiding the feelings.

Normal morning activities carried on outside his room throughout the rest of the castle, but behind his door, Caspian sniffed between silent sobs, feeling everything all at once- all alone.