"So, you're somewhat familiar with the peculiarities of demon abilities, right? How they're strange and don't conform to the typical elemental rules?" she inquired, her tone suggesting that she half-expected me to be clueless. I gave a nod, and she seemed relieved that I at least grasped that concept, letting out a sigh that seemed to carry a mix of resignation and satisfaction.
Her next question came with a hint of mirth, "Ever put any stock in fortune tellers?" She chuckled, the sound echoing slightly off the cold, hard walls of the cell as she leaned back, finding some semblance of comfort against the unforgiving surface. "I wouldn't say I'm one for crystal balls and tarot cards, but let's just say I have a knack for predicting what's on the horizon," she said, her eyes glinting with a secretive knowing as she gave me a conspiratorial wink.
"Just trust me on this, okay, kid?" Her voice softened, a gentle urging wrapped in the rough edges of her usual demeanor. "Tomorrow's going to be a rough one for you, that's certain. So, try to get some rest," she advised, her words trailing off as she closed her eyes, leaving me in the quiet of the cell with nothing but my thoughts and the lingering. How was she just gonna casually fall asleep after telling me everything that she did tonight? I mean yay, but what the hell?
As I mirrored her earlier actions, I sprawled out on the icy concrete, the hardness of the floor a bleak contrast to the warmth I once knew. The metallic cuffs encircling my ankles were a constant irritation, making my skin crawl with every involuntary twitch. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
just a short while back, and there I was, joking around with Alex teasing and bickering. It was a simpler time, a happier time, yes we were hungry for we didn't have much food but I still had them and,The acceptance from our dream school was still fresh in my mind, a gateway to a future we'd both coveted. One we dreamed of since we were young children.
But that dream was shattered in an instant, all because of a threat, because my real mom had tried to save someone and couldn't. All because of petty nobles. I had no choice but to run, to abandon everything we'd built, I was a danger to Alex and his mom, I refuse to let them get hurt. That must have been what she meant in her cryptic warnings, I don't know how she knew about me? Maybe it's apart of her abilities. Ever since that day, the day when I left in the pouring rain, I've felt myself changing. My once fiery temper has cooled, my standoffish nature has softened. But to what end?
I'm exhausted from the relentless escape. What's the point of all this running? I'm left with nothing but contempt and the bitter taste of betrayal. Even Alex wanted me to leave! If defiance and rebellion are what the world expects from me, if being a child of a "witch" and being cursed is what they want, then maybe it's time I lived up to that expectation. Maybe it's time I gave them an actual reason to despise me.
As those thoughts continued to echo through my mind, a subtle shift began to take place within me. It was as if the weight of their words, the concern and insight that those women had shared, finally started to seep into my consciousness. She saw something in me that I had been blind to, something that had been dormant for far too long.
With each replay of those conversations, each thought of how me and my family was treated, each thought of how my little sister burned to death and how my own mother had abandoned us, how she never came home after that fire, after that faithful night. I felt a flicker of something new awakening within me. It was like a tiny flame, barely noticeable at first, but steadily growing brighter and stronger. Confusion and frustration still lingered, but now there was an undercurrent of determination, a newfound resolve to understand myself and the path I had chosen.
As the night enveloped me, I succumbed to a fitful sleep. But it was a sleep devoid of dreams, a void of darkness that matched the uncertainty I felt deep within. The blank canvas of my mind mirrored the blank slate that lay before me, waiting to be filled with purpose and meaning.
In that darkness, I found solace. It was a quiet space where I could reflect and unravel the tangled threads of my thoughts. It was a necessary respite, a chance to gather my strength and prepare for the challenges that lay ahead.
Little did I know that this restless slumber was merely the calm before the storm. The next chapter of my journey would bring revelations and confrontations, pushing me to my limits and testing the very essence of who I had become. But for now, in that fleeting moment of tranquility, I embraced the darkness and allowed it to guide me towards the light.
As consciousness slowly returned to me, I was jolted awake by the sharp sound of metal clinking against metal. My eyes shot open, adjusting to the dim lighting of the cell. To my surprise, I wasn't alone in my groggy awakening. Aria, the black-haired woman who had been my cellmate, also stirred at the sudden disturbance.
With a creaking groan, the heavy cell door swung open, revealing a sliver of light that pierced through the darkness. It may have been faint, but it was a glimmer of hope, a sign that there was still a world beyond these confining walls.
Before we could fully process the situation, a familiar voice cut through the air. "Alright, kid, let's get going," Frank sneered as he swaggered into the cell. His smirk oozed with a mix of arrogance and disdain, a constant reminder of the power he held over us.
Reluctantly, I rose to my feet, my bodies stiff from the uncomfortable sleep i had endured. I exchanged a wary glance with aria, she silently acknowledging the uncertainties that lay ahead and gives me a comforting smile.
Frank walked over and undone the chain to my shackles, although I still had the metal cuffs on I felt slightly more free.
What did Frank mean by "examined"? What were they planning to do with me?
As i followed the man out of the cell, the corridor stretched out before me, bathed in an eerie glow. The flickering lights overhead cast haunting shadows on the damp walls, heightening the sense of foreboding that hung in the air. It was as if the very walls of this place held secrets and whispered tales of torment.
The journey through the labyrinthine corridors was silent, only broken by the echoes of our footsteps and the occasional distant murmur of voices. Each step brought me closer to the unknown.
As we reached the examination room, a sterile atmosphere enveloped us. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mixing with the nervous energy that embraced me. Frank's smirk widened, relishing in my discomfort as he gestured for me to enter. With a deep breath, i stepped into the unknown, ready to confront it.
The room presented itself as a stark, sterile chamber, its walls painted in a pristine white that suggested a meticulous attention to cleanliness. The air held a crispness to it, the kind that hinted at a place untouched by the chaos of the outside world. At first glance, it seemed almost inviting, a sanctuary of order amidst the disarray of our captivity.
However, as I ventured further into the room, the initial impression of purity began to wane. There was something unsettling about the too-perfect facade, a sense that the cleanliness was just a veneer hiding something far more sinister.
Breaking the silence, a voice rang out, jarring against the quietude of the room. "Okay, kid, I'm Lance," the man announced, his tone casual, almost disarming. But his appearance was anything but comforting. He sported a wild shock of white hair that stood in stark contrast to the sanitized environment, and his eyes held a frenetic gleam that sent shivers down my spine. He was the embodiment of a mad scientist, one whose experiments I was now an unwilling participant in.
"Now strip," he commanded abruptly, his voice slicing through the air like a cold blade. I stood there, rooted to the spot, my mind grappling with the reality of his demand. Was this really happening? Could this be just another twisted test?
As if to answer my silent questions, Lance's impatience flared. "Hey, boy, are you deaf? I said strip," he hissed, closing the distance between us with menacing strides. In his hand, he brandished a long, black rope-like instrument, its purpose unknown but undoubtedly alarming.
The command hung heavy in the air, a palpable threat that left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. The room, once a symbol of sterility and order, now felt like a trap, a place where the clinical and the cruel merged into one. The white walls seemed to close in around me, and the once-clean feeling of the room was now a distant memory, replaced by a growing sense of dread as I stood face to face with my so-called doctor for the day.
My gaze darted around the stark room, searching for Frank, but it became apparent that he had already taken his leave. A whisper of confusion slipped from my lips, "Why?" It was a question aimed at no one, a silent challenge to the man's intentions.
Lance caught the word as it hung in the air, his response laced with a mix of amusement and provocation. "Oh? We have a defiant one?" he mused, arching an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Curious, are we?" His voice held a taunting edge, the kind that suggested he relished the opportunity to crush any semblance of rebellion.
With a swift motion, he snapped out his long rope, the sound it made as it cut through the air terrifing—a sharp, resounding pop—was a clear declaration of his authority.
"I guess they haven't broken you in yet, kid," Lance said, the words oozing with condescension as a sinister smirk played upon his lips. He flicked his whip again, this time with precision that was as terrifying as it was impressive. The tip grazed my cheek in a fleeting caress that belied the pain that followed—a sharp, burning sensation that now caused a red liquid to trace a path down my face.
There was no opportunity to react, no chance to evade the swift strike. It happened in a blink, a brutal lesson in the speed at which fear could be instilled. The sting on my skin was a stark reminder of the power he wielded, and the ease with which he could wield it. I was left with the chilling realization that, in this room, Lance was not just a scientist—he was an orchestrator of fear, and I was his unwilling subject.