You stayed up late working in the workshop again. Your strict deadline neared, and that meant you severely needed to finish your glass piece for a Mr. Ansem, who asked if you could make a stain glass heart in less than a week. Having not had a commission in over a month, dumb you agreed and now you raced to finish the piece and prayed dearly that it looked good enough and not obviously rushed for his tastes. Not that you procrastinated, but sketching an idea from scratch, then preparing a pattern could take time—making you also realize that all your heart-shaped patterns from before were crap. So you started with a blank piece of paper and worked your way to the top. 

     It had been hard since the man told you silently with his unresponsive manner that he didn't care what the heart looked like when you had asked your normal questions. He didn't have a preference for what he wanted, so that left you with the hardest work. You had no idea what to do, and that didn't help.

     The man was weird. Both in looks and his demeanor—you weren't judging, of course—but the silver hair, golden eyes, and black hoodie just threw you off a little, since it wasn't common in your town. The weirdest? He didn't even give you a number; just told you he'd be here by Saturday to pick it up, and that day was tomorrow. It felt like some weird Craigslist crap—but minus the internet. Though you wondered if your brother had something to do with the creepy customer. Pranks were pretty common with him, and you wouldn't be surprised if he did post an article on some creepy website for you.

    For the heart piece—you chose an iridescent rough rolled with a more smoother bubblegum pink in the middle, forming two hearts with the iridescent on the outside and the pink forming the second heart in the middle. A golden edging formed the piece together and held it in place. The design featured a fancy heart with the best-curved edges you possibly could cut the glass into.

    All went well. Just now you were finishing up grinding the final few pieces to fit the pattern of your heart and set them carefully on your small workbench placed in the shed in your backyard, acting as your studio.

    You stepped before your drawn pattern and began moving the pieces around, putting them where they belonged; like one of those large-sized children puzzles.   

    After that, you took a small break for a snack and a drink. Washing your hands, you returned and began finishing up the piece. However, once your eyes drooped, you looked to the red numbers on the digital clock that you always had on in your studio. 3 A.M. You knew you needed to sleep, and bad. You'd just hoped that Ansem didn't have the audacity to come at six in the morning. A few hours was all you needed, then you could place the final touch-up—if you hadn't screwed it up already.

    You removed your apron and left your shed—locking it before entering your home and marching straight to your room—not even bothering to change as your bed beckoned you.

    Those short hours didn't last long cause before you knew it—your phone's alarm rang and you jolted straight awake, body aching from laying on your stomach all night. You groaned and looked at the time. 7 A.M. You peeked outside your kitchen window and stared at your driveway, expecting your customer to be there.

    Ansem wasn't there. Huh, what luck.

    You returned to your shed without even preparing yourself for the morning. The more important thing was finishing the heart in time. Caring for yourself could come afterward when you could take all the time you needed. To an extent.

    You slaved over the masterpiece for the next forty minutes before you placed it against a box, and took a few steps back to admire your work. You... smiled. It sparkled with the small amount of sun that shone through the window above your work area. It wasn't half-bad— for something made in about a week.

    Taking the glass, you carefully cleaned it before leaving it to settle on your workbench. Returning inside, you rushed about as fast as you made the heart to take care of yourself before Ansem came to pick-up the piece. Showering, brushing your teeth and finding customer-approved clothing—you were ready for the day.

    When done, you took your spare time to sit at your bench outside the side of your house—where your miniature garden calmed your nerves from the coming deadline. You sat with pen and pad, determining the price Ansem would have to pay in total for the commission. The final thing to do, since everything else was done and ready.

    You waited, and waited, sitting there, for what seemed like hours. Around noon, you decided to stand up and go fix yourself lunch--until you saw him. Ansem—standing there at the end of your driveway just as you'd imagined him earlier—slipping in like an unseen shadow. He looked the same as he had the other day with the same color and style coat. His silver hair tiptoed on his shoulders, and his amber eyes glared over at you. He had a young look to himself, and you wondered if he was younger than you or if his looks were merely deceiving.

    You shook your head at that thought.

    "Ansem, sir!" You called out and waved just in case he hadn't noticed you, "I bet you're here for your heart, yes?"

    "You could say that," he spoke monotonously and stared directly through you, his arms crossed. Your eyebrow cocked up.

    You coughed awkwardly into your hand. It was considered unprofessional, but you avoided direct eye contact. "Well... It's ready in my workshop. Come with me and I'll show it to you and then we can discuss the price." You motioned for him to follow you and you walked to your shed, leaving the door open for him when you entered.

    "Any price is fine with me. There's no need to discuss it. I can pay," he confirmed with the wave of his hand, giving you a little solace to the nervousness you had felt.

    Why was he giving you such a bad feeling?

    "Thank you, sir." You slipped a smile, standing in the doorway for a moment to look over your shoulder at him. He didn't return the smile.

    Ansem stepped in after you, having to hunch down a little cause his tall frame couldn't fit in all the way, but he was fine once he stood in the room. His eyes fell upon the glass heart immediately as you picked it up and displayed it for him with a triumph smile; your energy flowing passionately the moment the urge to show off the piece conquered you. All other thoughts disappeared.

    "I didn't want to use a typical heart design, so I drew this specially for you," you rambled with a big proud smile on your face, "And I used some of my special glass for the colors." You tapped your nail entry against the middle of the glass, making a glass knock with your finger. "The color of rose contrasts nicely with the Iridescent, in my opinion. I just hope that it fits your taste."

    He ran his fingers over his chin and for a moment you worried he would take it and shatter it on the ground with his mind alone. He was examining the work—and you saw how the creases in his face would determine the result. One word came out of his mouth, and you didn't expect it, "Exquisite. I like it," he complimented you.

    You almost shined as bright as Iridescent spread out in direct sunlight. "I'm glad you like it, sir!" You breathed out, making just a few small pants. "Now if this is a gift for someone, I would be glad to also wrap it u—"

    "Let me see it first. I want to hold it," he ordered, interrupting you while extending his hand out. You shut your mouth.

    You hesitated for a moment but complied. "Er—Yes, sir!" The customer was always right, and you had to be on his good side if you wanted to afford your rent for the month. You carefully handed the heart over and shoved your nervous hands behind your back. They sweated worse than a person in shorts sitting on a piping hot, plastic swing in the midst of Summer. Watching with a nervous feeling that he was having second thoughts, you couldn't shut yourself up, "Do you think the colors are OK? I know I said I liked them, but I can redo them if you'd like someth—"

    "The colors are fine, it's just missing something. Something else." He flipped the glass heart and you had to resist the temptation of yanking it straight out of his hands to throw away the insecurity.

    You gulped. "What is it, sir? I can fix it right up."

    Ansem met your eyes, stretching the heart out for you to take. "Hold it for me again. Maybe step into the light too so I can see it better."

    "O-Okay—"

    Your hands placed right over Ansem's to take the heart and you took a step back through the little light that shined through your small window; you kept your eyes on the ground behind you in fear of tripping and ruining the piece.

    Ansem abruptly moved his hands right over yours, trapping them and refusing to let go. Your stomach lurched and you gasped, peering up at him, regretting it immediately. You laid eyes on him and felt suddenly drawn to keep your small hands there, underneath his. The room immediately chilled and your body shivered at the imaginary gust of wind that blew through the room, even though you stood directly under the light. Eyes darting to check the door, you found that you couldn't move your hands away from either the heart nor Ansem—for real. Then, your eyes chained to his forcefully, and they too, could not be removed.

    Ansem's mouth opened and closed—reciting something—and you couldn't tell what his lips said. Ebbing at the edges of your vision, splashed the colors of purple and black; shadows reaching around and making hand gestures that tried to claw their way through your retinas. You blinked and tried to twist your head away, but they always seemed to come back to Ansem's face. Beneath your trembling body, your knees clacked together.

    "P-Please... stop," You whimpered.

    "Surrender your heart. Willfully or forcefully. I don't care for which."

    What was he talking about?

    "I don't know—"

    Movement caught your attention towards your arms. The heart reached to your body as Ansem pushed it closer to your chest—until you felt the coldness of the golden point of the heart touched between your chest, where your real heart was.

    You realized what was going on and shook your head in desperation. "No, no, no..." You tried to push the heart away, but your body no longer moved at your command.

    His lips moved again, but no sound.

    You kept shaking your head. "No, no, no, please, NO!"

    "The darkness needs more. And when you're my nobody, we can make more nobodies together." It sounded as thought he wanted to make something with you. Your heart pounded in crazy fear.

    Shadows encased the heart with a dark, misty shield and you could only watch mercilessly; doing nothing but scream and cry no. Ansem thrust the glass heart forward, impaling you through the heart in a single stroke. You screamed at the pain you thought you'd feel. Ansem surrendered his hold on the heart and allowed you to claw around your chest where the heart strung out by itself—but there was nothing. No pain—just draining.

    The shadows disappeared from the humps of the heart and traveled to the tip that was still embedded in your body. Then seconds later, there was light, and it was coming out of you. Ansem reached forward and tore the glass from your heart with both his hands, leaving you with an empty feeling.

Barely lifting your head, you ran a hand over where you had just been stabbed. You didn't know what it looked like, and you refused to look. "W-What did you do...?" You asked in this hallow voice that wasn't yours.

    "Your heart belongs to me now," he repeated, running his finger along the glowing edges of gold. You watched, feeling nothing. No reaction.

    "My... Heart...?" You nodded lamely at the glass. It glowed as if it was a colorful light show, and you swore that it almost appeared to beat like a real heart.

    "Correct: your heart. This is your heart now." He copied how you'd displayed the heart to him earlier, with some smirk on his face. If he'd wanted to—he would have smiled at his new creation. The first of his kind. "Ripped fresh from your body. And it's mine."

    You barely reached out your fingers to touch the beveled edges. "I..."

    "My dear, we have a plethora of work to do now. Let's head back and you can start making more hearts for the Organization to work with."

    He snatched your wrist, and you walked with him willingly to the door, but he stopped and you mimicked him.
    "What is it?" You asked, keeping your eyes to the ground.

    "Shhh," he shushed you and craned his neck to look out your small window. "It's them. We will have to take a different way out."

    "He has to be here somewhere—" Voices spoke from outside. You didn't know who they were, but they seemed to be looking for someone. If you were yourself, you would've screamed for help. "They said walking through that dark corridor would lead us straight to him."

    "Who are they?" You asked.

    "Sora—Donald—Goofy. And we're not letting them destroy our plans."

    "I don't know them."

    Ansem watched them, too distracted to answer.  You watched his unbreakable face, then lowered your eyes to your heart that was tucked securely underneath his armpit. Something... called you forward, be it your mind or will that remained and fought for what belonged to it. As he snapped his fingers, summoning a black hole in the middle of your workshop and stormed towards it, you followed. Before he could walk through, however, you grabbed your heart and yanked it unexpectedly from his hands. He gasped, looking to you. He seemed prepared to fight, but after one glance at the door, he grumbled and decided to walk through the hole instead and disappear.

    He glared at you one last time, whispering, "Mine. No matter what, we need you and will get you. I will come back for you later." His finger lingered while pointing towards you but eventually dropped it to his side.

    The dark corridor disappeared, and so did he.

    Touching the heart instantly summoned your emotions, bringing them back to reality. Your nonexistent heart pounded and you held the beat against your chest, trying to swallow everything that had just happened. This is your heart now. You repeated his words in his voice inside your head.

    "This way!"A different voice called out, "I saw another dark corridor this way—that shed!"

    "Gwarsh, he must've heard us..." Another one—a goofy one—spoke. Goofy or not, you were scared and paranoid, and rushed to hide behind your workbench away from the door as the footsteps neared. The door slammed open and they came in. Your voice hitched but out to remain quiet.

    "We were too late, Sora!" The second voice from before spoke with disappointment, "Aw, dang... That coward always runs." You realize you could hardly understand him.

    "Don't worry, Donald."

    "Yeah, Donald, you know Sora will get him next time!"

    The door opened more and feet shifted around the other side of the room, but you refused to move from your spot, or release your heart. Holding it close to your chest as though you could still feel it pump against your skin, you felt some kind of solace to the tragedy you'd just endured.

    "Where do you think he went this time?" The first voice spoke. It sounded like a young man.

    "I don't know... but next time I'm going to thump him with my staff for sending us on this wild goose chase!"

    "Do you mean... duck chase?" The young man snickered and anger gibberish followed afterward.

    "Sora, that's not funny, I'm being serious here!"

    "C'mon, I'm just pulling your leg."

    The third voice then struggled to speak through some audible giggles, "Or you could say turkey leg."

    "That's a good one, Goofy!"

    A whimper escaped your voice. You had no idea what was going on, and why these men were joking.

    Your voice had been heard. Sora, Donald, Goofy—the three of them all turned their heads your direction, at your workbench. "What was that?" Sora gasped, surprised to hear that someone had been in there. He jumped straight into battle position, summoning his keyblade and holding it defensively. The flash of light made you flinch—whimpering as you received flashbacks from minutes ago.

    "It came from behind the table, Sora!" Donald quacked, summoning his staff.

    "I got them!" Sora exclaimed confidently, and it sounded like a death march as he raced to your hiding spot. He peered over the table with his keyblade ready to strike. He stopped, seeing your trembling body. You obviously seemed more scared than anything—making you harmless in his book.

This apparent man was actually a young boy, wearing some... questionable clothing that had unnecessary padding everywhere. He looked like a cosplayer you'd see in the pictures your brother would take when he went on convention and posted on his social media. You wondered what his friends looked like.

"Well, who is it Sora?" Donald asked, placing a fist against his hip.

"It's a girl—a woman. Hey, you need a hand?" He leaned over the table, offering a hand.

"No!" You slapped his hand away and curled up, hiding the heart from him.

"Hey... What's wrong?" He leaned down further to watch you with curious eyes.

    "Who is it, who is it?" Donald cried out.

    "Is she friendly?" Goofy asked.

    "I think so," Sora answered, squinting his eyes at you, "What's in your hands, ma'am? What happened?"

    You couldn't even look up as you tried to not drop your fragile heart. "My heart... My heart... that man took my heart."

    "Who did?" Sora raised his eyebrows.

    "That man... With silver hair and everything..." You took a handful of your hair and held it like it was his.

    "Oh no..." Sora stared down at you, then looked to his two other friends. "We were too late. Xehanort actually got somebody."

    "Gwarsh, that's not good..."

    "Aw no..." Donald whined and walked to the side of the workbench, making you scream at the sight—of a duck! You kicked, panicking and throwing your body to kick him away from you.

    "Monster, monster, get away from me!" You screamed.

    Killer men, and now walking and talking animals? The man must've stabbed you and killed you.

    "Woah, woah! Sora, get her!"

    Sora rounded your side and reached towards you, trying to take you comfortably into his arms. You were having none of it and threw your body to the other side away from him; Sora had never seen a person act in such a way. "Goofy, get on the other side so she doesn't hurt herself."

    "Will do, Sora!"

    "No... No, I don't know you and I want you to stay away—" You shook your head until your head spun.

    "Don't worry... we've got you."

    You rolled on your back, your arms crossed over your chest with the glass between them. Your bottom lip quivered when you saw a dog on two legs before you and you screamed again.

    "She's still screaming, Sora—" Goofy tried to speak between the screaming—reaching down to hold you with equally caring arms—but you were loud. Sora reached you first, pulling your hyperventilating body into the best hug he could with this stranger. You had to force yourself to calm down. His arms constricted you tight and refused to let you go no matter what. It almost felt nice, but you couldn't say it.

    Donald gasped, his eyes growing wide as he stood next to Sora. "That's magic." He pointed a the heart between you Sora, admiring the unnatural glowing look to it. "Look at it pulse..."

    Sora pulled away, looking between your arms. "It is! What is that?"

    "Let me look at it—I think we might need to take it to Merlin and examine."

    "But what about the code?" Sora leaned over to Donald's ear and cupped his hand to keep the conversation to them and them only, "Would it be smart to do that?"

    "If this is what I'm thinking it is, then we don't have a choice, Sora," Donald said as he approached.

    The moment the strange duck neared you, you quickly ducked closer to Sora as if you were hiding from him. "Don't take my heart away from me."

    Donald hesitated. "But I need to see it."

    "No. It's mine. It's me. I don't feel anything without it." What if he took it and ran?

    "What do you mean?" Sora questioned.

    "I had no emotions when he took it..." You whimpered. "I was like a husk."

    Sora and Donald exchanged looks—thinking the same thing—meanwhile, Goofy scratched the top of his head. "What does she mean, Sora?" He asked.

    "A temporary nobody!" Donald and Sora exclaimed at once, making you flinch back into a tight ball. "Ah... Sorry." Sora laid a hand on your shoulder.

    You peered up, finding Sora's eyes. They were this beautiful blue and reminded you of a beautiful pane of sky blue glass you'd always wanted. "That man. He stabbed me and said my heart is in here now. What do I do with it? I want to be whole again."

    Donald grew a bit eager and reached his hands out, a bit grabby. Too much for your taste. "Let me take it. I'll know what to do after I examine it."

    You jerked away from Donald, shaking your head no, doubt written all over your face.

    Sora noticed and placed a hand on your back, offering you a kind smile. "Hey, he's my friend. He may look different, but he's a good guy, and he understands this stuff. At least more than I do." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with his other hand. "You can trust him with your heart. I know I would!"

    You took a few moments before nodding your head. "Okay... But just for a minute, OK?" Moving your arms, you extended your heart out—only to feel it slip between your sweaty fingertips.

    Everything moved in slow motion.

    "NOO!" Cried Donald.

    "Catch it!"

    They cupped their hands, but it was too late.

    Before you could even look to the ground, you heard the shatter of glass as your heart hit the ground and splattered into individual pieces. The moment you no longer touched the glass, your emotions left you again. You looked to the ground, unshocked. You didn't have the option to feel shocked anymore—the feeling—gone in just an instant. Your expressionless face continued on well beyond the fact that the chunks of glass began to disappear between portals of purple.

    A true nobody, an unknown voice whispered to you.

    "Sora, get them before they're gone!" Donald dived for the ground, but some pieces had already disappeared into nothingness, along with your emotions. There was a piece next to your shoe, but you could only stare. "GRAB IT, SORA!"

    Sora snatched the piece, watching with wide eyes as the rest disappeared. It was a piece of the inner pink heart, shaped like a jagged triangle.

    "Oh no, what do we do?" Goofy asked, a finger up to his lips. He kneeled next to you with no luck of catching any of the pieces. "Her heart shattered and disappeared."

    "Maybe we can do something with this piece...Merlin will definitely have to look at this now." Donald took the piece from Sora's open palm and examined it briefly. Then, he looked to you and saw how everything shot straight over your head. His face fell with guilt before he reached out and opened your hand, placing the glass carefully in your palm before closing it. It only he'd allowed you to calm down first.

    "We're going to take you to Merlin, alright?" He reassured you and Sora held your hand in his, patting with one. Though he didn't expect you to respond wholeheartedly.

    A spark inside you made your eyes open wide, something triggering.

    One thought crossed your mind: Your emotions were truly gone now... all except one.