Secrets Never Known

AnnaBelle's fingers traced the lines of graphite on the blue-lined paper in her lap. She was sat on her bed, legs crossed Indian style. Ten different notebooks were opened around her, all of them showing drawings of the Madman from different times over the last two years.

Her blue eyes followed every angle and shadow of his face, every wrinkle that shouldn't have been embedded into his skin. Her index and middle fingers ran over the mess that was his hair. She stared at the stubble on his chin and jaw, at the smallness of his nose, at the curve of his lips. Her gaze stopped on his eyes, deep and knowing. Frantic and crazy.

She reached behind her back and grabbed the notebook that was there, bringing it back around and dropping it on top of the one she'd just been studying. Her Madman's eyes seemed to stare right into her and straight through her all at once. She could see in her mind the dream this set of eyes had been taken from. She saw the way they darted from side to side. She saw the way a fire set inside them. She looked into them and could see his hands covering his face in exasperation, then moving away and revealing the insanity that drove him from within; drove him from one end of the universe to the other looking for the only thing that was truly his.

Anna squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as a pain ran through her mind. She pressed her hands, closed so tight into fists that she felt her nails digging into her palms, against her ears and bent over her lap. The pain was gone after mere seconds but it had done damage nothing else could ever do.

"Please," she whispered, wishing with all her might that he would hear her, but knowing that he never would. "I need you."

--

My Madman. I remind myself every night that he's mine, but still a small part of my mind can't help but to wonder if there's someone out there that he really belongs to. How can a man I've never met really be mine? How can I be so sure that what he wants me for isn't bad?

I'm not sure. I've never been sure of what will happen when he finds me, but I do know that he has always been and will always be mine. And that's what keeps me coming back, I think. Every time I fall asleep I find myself in walking distance of being able to touch him. To be able to attempt to touch him, that is. No matter how hard in my consciousness I try to make him tangible, he always passes through my fingers like a ghost. No matter how loud I scream at him, he can never hear me. And this night is no different.

My Madman sits with his face in his hands. He's in such a delicate state right now, I can tell that without seeing what expression is being cast over his features. But that doesn't matter, because I am angry at him. I am so very angry. Why is it taking him so long to find me? He's been looking for 16 years. I know that the universe is a gigantic place, but why isn't here yet? Why doesn't he understand that I need him here now?

Fingers, terribly shaking fingers, reach out as I try again with vain hope to feel his skin. It doesn't work and I can't help but to let out a small scream. Nothing. He only sits there, face still covered by his hands, his only movements being the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes.

"Why can't you find me?" The words grind from my mouth before I know what I'm saying. My feet take me in a straight line in front of him, pacing back and forth. "I'm right here!" I yell, my fists pound my chest and, not for the first time, I feel hot tears start to stream from my eyes. "I'm right in front of you and you still can't see me! You have all of this-" my hands lash out to point at the complicated controls in the middle of the strange room that was so much like home to me "-but you have no idea of where I might be! Why?"

He moves, hands trailing from his face to the arms of the chair and he stares straight through me. His eyes are focused on something far away, so far away, and there are so many things running through that brilliant head of his.

"How did you lose me?" My voice has dropped to hardly anything more than a whisper and I stop my pacing. I move to stand before him, then kneel so that we're eye level. He still looks through me, but my eyes never leave his. "Why did you lose me? What happened? Please, please, hurry. I can't take anymore of this."

A sudden thought comes to me and I silently wonder where it came from. Nothing like it has ever crossed my mind before, but I somehow know that it's true. I grasp hold of the chair, just as he is. My hands go through his but I only squeeze tighter, my desperation just as great as his.

"I'm dying," I say, voice stronger now. "This planet is killing me."