Christy Turco 3/27/12
That Feeling of Freedom
Drip...drip...drip
Dull eyes watched the small but big droplets of blood fall from the "table of torture". The now clouded blue eyes stared at all bad people. The eyes watched them stare and smirk and grin and stand there and oh god why won't they just leave him alone.
The small cage he was trapped in made him feel all the more worse. He discovered, not a long after he was kidnapped, that he hated this feeling. This feeling of being trapped. This feeling of being look at like a piece of meat. This submissive feeling.
He hated the stares most of all. Their stares said thousands and millions of words to him. Weak, pathetic, and helpless were often one of them. And he wanted them dead. He wanted them to feel the same anguish that he felt as he watched his parents die. He wanted to watch them scream not the other way around.
So he waited and he held on to the small thread of false hope of ever getting out of this hell. But he didn't want to wait. He wanted to be free now. He wanted to go back home and be that innocent child that he can never be again. Because they won't allow it. Because they don't want you to be happy. Because he knew he could never be happy again. And he knew he'd never smile again. He would use the excuse that he forgot to because he knows.
His too dull eyes looked down and spotted a black feather. It looked so silky and just like a ravens and he just had to touch it. And he held it between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand caressed it gently. And for a short while he wasn't being stared at by what felt like millions of pairs of eyes. He wasn't in a cage and there was not smell and no taste of the metallic substance.
Instead he was sitting in a black but not pitch black room. He could see his own beaten and battered body. He looked around and his first thought was that he was dying and soon there would be a bright white light calling to him and beckoning him and he didn't want to die just yet.
The black of the room fell away revealing it to be more of those black feathers. And a voice, there was a faint voice.
No it wasn't a voice, there were voices. There were gasps and yells but he was too scared to understand what they were saying. And then he understood. He has summoned a creature here and that creature will save him and he will be safe.
A smooth and velvety voice speaks and it speaks to him. "Do you or do you not wish to form a contract with me?"
"I..." He hates that he is so weak. He faintly hears the yells in the background. "I..."
"I want...power..." He suddenly feels so very angry. "The power to take revenge on the ones who did this!"
And he screams. He is surprised because just seconds ago he was so weak.
And he screams again. "I will make a contract with you! I want power greater then anyone else's!"
He sees an evil smile dance across the creatures face. "You're quite greedy despite that small body of yours."
A chuckle escapes those evil lips and the creature asks, "What are your orders, my master?"
His angry is boiling inside of me overflowing into white hot rage. "Kill them! Kill them all! I want them all dead!"
"As you wish, my lord." It happened so fast and so slow. Soon they were all dead and he was free from that small cage and he was free.
He notices that the creature was holding his hand. Perhaps just so he wouldn't fall or stumble or there was blood everywhere.
That voice speaks again, "What is your name?"
He answers because that is the polite thing to do. " My name is...Ceil. Ceil Phantomhive. The one that will inherit the company of the earl Phantomhive."
He sees that smile again and you question it has ever left that creatures face.
"Well I wait for your orders, my little lord."
