The dawn shone through the curtains, reflected oddly by the new thick glass panes of the room.
Adela shot up in bed. She had no idea where she was.
But she didn't yell.
No one could hear her yell. What was the point?
Instead, she stood and stretched, ignoring the dead weight of the manacles. They were a mere nuisance to her. There was a bathroom in one corner of her octagon-shaped quarters, and she walked through and saw a walk-in shower and large bathtub, each supplied with soap and shampoo for her hair. Adela snagged a towel from off of a nearby rock, and turned the water on.
Even with the manacles making it difficult, she undressed without too much trouble and stepped into the water. There was a sponge nearby, and she lathered soap onto it and scrubbed herself. Every time she scrubbed herself, it seemed she took off a new layer of dirt. Had she not showered in centuries?
After two hours of simply scrubbing her skin, Adela was satisfied. She lathered shampoo into her hair and rinsed three times, before turning to grab the conditioner. As she reached out her hand, she realized there was a golden-ish substance on her hand.
When Adela ran her hand under the water, it came away easily enough. Ignoring the oddness of it, she conditioned her hair twice. Turning off the water, she squeezed the water out of her hair and grabbed the towel. But instead of stepping out, she walked to the tub and filled it with water so hot it visibly steamed and filled it with soap.
Her skin was nearly burning when she dropped the towel and slowly lowered herself into the tub. She soaked for another half hour, then emptied the tub. This time, she dried off and walked back into her quarters. In the corner, there was a tall black iron dresser. Adela walked over and searched each drawer, eventually putting together an outfit.
She chose another white shirt with a gentle v-neckline, the shirt balanced easily on the edges of her shoulders, revealing grey bra straps. It was loosely tucked into a pair of tight-fitting black slacks, followed by black flats Adela had found in a closet next to the dresser. Even with the manacles, she managed to look stylish.
Adela leaned forward slightly to peer at her shoes, and a strand of loose black hair fell in her line of vision. She lifted a hand to tuck it back- wait. Black hair?
Adela walked into the bathroom, where there was a mirror above a porcelain sink. Her golden-brown waves were now a dark, midnight black, the waves ending in tight curls, and Adela hadn't realized she had side-swept bangs. The most surprising thing were the two partitions of hair framing her face. The one on the left was completely red, and the one on the right was a bright cyan. They were the only colors in her hair.
Adela reached up to rub her eyes, but something in her eye poked her. She flinched and immediately touched her eye. But she didn't touch her eye. Instead, she touched something rubbery and flexible and came off easily. There was another one on her other eye. When she blinked a few times to clear the tears and looked in the mirror, she realized her eyes were completely different colors. Instead of the plain cyan, her left eye was red and her right was cyan, each glowing unnaturally and the same shade as the streaks in her hair.
Making a face, she turned back to her bed.
On it was a glossy black journal, a white pen sitting on top of it.
Walking over, Adela grabbed the pen and opened the journal to the first page. In small, slanted letters, it said 'write down everything about each day.'
When did she write that?
Adela blinked a few times, looked around, and scribbled her hair and eye colors into the notebook, adding the parts about the changing color and rubbery things on her eyes. What else was she supposed to do?
Adela quickly grew bored, and tucked her journal out of sight, under the pillows piled on her window ledge. Sitting there, she gazed at the forest beyond, and the gentle blue sky. The clouds were wispy and few.
The sound of a heavy door opening filled the room, and Adela snapped her head over to where the solid black iron door was beginning to open. A tall, burly man stepped inside with a sharp jawline. He set down a tray of food and water on the table in the middle of the room and turned to walk out.
Before he could, he looked at Adela and froze.
Adela watched him curiously as he stared at her. "Who are you?"
"Gregory." He said, his voice squeaking. Adela furrowed her brow; he seemed scared.
"Gregory, why are you scared?" She asked.
He didn't answer and started to move. Before Adela had made the conscious decision, she was already across the room. She moved quickly and in a sleek way, easily grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling his face down so he could look her in the eyes.
Her gravelly voice became smoother and softer. "Gregory, why are you scared?"
He looked like he would faint. He stared at her, gaze shifting from one eye to the other. His throat bobbed.
"Because you are not human." he croaked. "after yesterday, you proved you will not hesitate to kill."
Adela tipped her head. "Did I?"
He nodded slowly. Adela released him with a faint smile, and he turned to try and run out of the room. Before Adela could realize what she was doing, her chains glowed a bright red, blinding everything in the room and disintegrating. An inky red tendril shot forward, latching onto Gregory's foot ferociously.
Gregory screamed.
When it was over, Adela sat at the window as they carried out his body. She needed another bath. Why had she killed him anyway?
Something inside of her needed it. Something buried deep in her mind screamed for blood, for all of the turmoil death caused.
For the chaos.
Adela wrote it down in the journal after they left, tucking it away and heading into the bathroom to shower again.