Bandaged | Osamu Dazai

PROLOGUE

You reached your hand, desperate for anyone - or even anything to grasp a hold of you and pull you out of this hell hole. Your sanity had left you vulnerable and alone far too long ago for you to even remember. All you had left were the endless voice and the memories that had convinced you that you had already been consumed by your own darkness.

The cold bars of the cell stung your bare skin. Hands helplessly covering your ears as all you could ever hear was the laughs and cries of pure agony and insanity.

You saw nothing, not even a peek of light snuck through the crevices and cracks of the basement door.

If life is this cruel, you had prayed to a god you did not even believe in that death would be far kinder. Your mind plays tricks on you, trembling in fear of what lurked in this labyrinth of lightless-shadows that no one deserved to be in.

The chains that bound you to your chamber had bruised and broken your skin, yet you felt nothing - you were numb to all of it.

So how could you hope to be released from this darkness when not even a speck of light nor an of ember of a flame lives within you? Even if somehow and someway someone grabs that hand you continue to reach out, and yanks you out into the sunlight, you would mindlessly crawl back into the murkiness of your lifeless cell because it was all that you ever knew.

And you found familiarity in it - in the fear, in the sickness, in the pain.

You were crafted out of it all.

A gorgeous, powerful, human being only made out of the darkness you are always surrounded by.

Until you weren't.

Slowly, light began to peek through the door, two silhouettes entering this dungeon with a candle in hand. "Wow, I get to choose my subordinate! How exciting." He spoke to the man who owned you - or rather, held great possession over you. His voice is as sarcastic and mocking as it could ever be.

"Now now. Dare I say be careful with whomever you'll choose." The mastermind of it all chuckles. If you had the honor of being thrown down here, you knew you were dangerous... uncontrollable.

You curled up against the stone wall, your breathing slow and delayed, as you lacked the vitality to do anything else. The air was always crisp in your cell, then again, you were so weak, frail, and useless your body couldn't muster even an ounce of heat.

"Aren't you going to give me a tour of my options, Mori?" You shuttered at that name being spoken so lowly, Mori. He was the man who owned you like a dog, a pampered lab rat to admire after creating its monstrosity.

Your thoughts wandered far and wide, wondering what that man would do to you. Wondering if you had died already, and hoping you did.

Your stomach no longer ached from starvation and your head no longer pounded from it, your flesh no longer felt, and your eyes no longer could stay open.

————꧁꧂————

"Hey. You still alive?" A monotonous voice cooed, nudging your rib with his foot.

His hazel eyes studied your body that was draped all over the floor. You looked lifeless - to him, deader than anyone he's ever killed. And you wore nothing, just a lacy bra and pantie. Mori insisted on stripping you of your pride, dignity - everything. You were pale, and even paler underneath that candlelight.

Mori treated you as a doll, he made sure your skin was soft and flawless even when you dug your nails into it, scraping as much skin from your wrists as you could to feel anything. He'd have you cleaned every single day with bandages over your eyes so you continued to sink in that darkness.

"Don't look so glum," he smirked. "I'll make you useful, [Y/n]." Even your name felt foreign to your own ears as your eyes drowsily open.

He undid those bandages that you didn't realize was always the thing blinding you. The brightness of that candle's light startled you, yet it was... comforting since you couldn't even remember the last time you saw the world and its colors.

Those cuffs around your ankles had been unlocked. "You understand?"

Not even a sound left your lips.

His voice was dark yet youthful, and he wasn't much older than you were. "I need a 'Yes, I do!'. I mean, after all, I am saving you from your self pity." He taunted you as if you hadn't yet earned the right to live with purpose as he did.

"Who... Who are you?" your voice was quiet and hoarse, your eyes darting from his face and his dark brown hair that covered his own, to his arms that were almost completely wrapped in bandages. A long, black coat resting on his shoulders as he was knelt down to meet your eyes.

"Osamu Dazai."