A/N: So, this has been a story I had for a couple of days now and I wanted you guys to know how you feel about it. Comments and Suggestions...please? Just in case, this isn't beta'd.
Warning: Mentions of rape and torture.
Ch 1 Summary:
The Number 9; Dignity; Her Mother; Abigail.
Even the brightest stars in the universe can be destroyed by black holes.
A bit of sunlight shone into my face earlier this morning. It was rare but it was there. I cherish these moments when I see at least a ray of light from my window rather than these blaring lights from the ghastly expensive chandeliers. And sometimes when luck is on my side, I can steal a glance of dusk outside. It was always beautiful to me. I can remember when my family and I go out after supper and just take in the mesmerizing view of the sky.
Bits and tiny parts are all I can remember from my childhood. But when I think about them, my head hurts. So, I try to think of them sometimes only.
Someday, I can go out and enjoy the sun setting down but not now. Not tomorrow. Soon. Just... Maybe.
-Eliza Schuyler, May 21, 2145
Nine. Nine stitches she needed for her wounds.
Eight. Eight days since Eliza hadn't caught a glimpse of sunlight.
Seven. Seven hours of crying.
Six. Six screams that passed her lips that day.
Five. Five minutes Eliza stared into nothingness.
Four. Four times Eliza had been whipped.
Three. Three bruises on her pale face.
Two. Two eyes filled with fear and agony.
One. One dignity lost a long time ago.
Eliza curled up in a ball, hugging her chest while she sobbed on her hard rock bed, thinking of better times which was nearly nonexistent. It was like this almost every night. Picture a lonely, battered girl, scars littering her skin, fresh bruises and cuts. Her hair matted with dirt and soil, long and very rough. She was frail and malnourished, you'd have to be blind not to see and realize.
She's mentally broken too. Ever since she was separated from her family, Eliza's been lost. Through the years she slowly forgot most of her memories, letting her fears and painful memories flow in her mind instead. Eliza lost everything she had and cherished the most, she lost her family, her happiness, her joy, her dignity. Eliza lost herself.
Dignity; dignity is knowing that you are worthy of respect, worthy of honor, worthy being treated like a human, knowing you are worthy of living. It is such a close word to Eliza but funnily enough, she doesn't have any dignity left. It was gone when she lost her family but never really felt it until she was treated like an animal. Dirty, disgusting, bitch, poor. Unworthy.
The only thing keeping her sane is her journal. Everyday she writes pieces of her day or at least describes it. Eliza writes her pain and agony on that notebook. She treated it like her life depended on it. It did, in some way. She wrote every little moment that made her happy, every milestone, every time she sees the sunlight, every time she's drowning in pain, every time she wanted to die.
Eliza hugged her chest a little tighter and breathed raggedly. Thinking that she still had more chores to do. She got up and went to her tiny bathroom, if you could call it a bathroom. Turning the faucet on and splashing some water on her face where traces of tears are visible, grimacing when the cold water hit her face. She caught a look of her herself on the mirror, flinching at the sight of bruises and cuts and her almost black eyebags. Momentarily, she eyed the broken shard of glass at the corner of her floor and imagining it glide through her skin, deep red blood falling down the floor and pooling on her feet.
She shook away her thoughts, thinking back to when she actually attempted suicide and failing badly. Eliza got nothing out of it but the deep cuts on her wrist and three broken bones. By now, she really is battered; some wounds won't heal that fast and scars last longer than you think. It was painful-yes, so much-but Eliza made a promise to herself that she'd get out this hellhole and die in a far better place than this. She could feel tears dripping down her cheeks-still not believing that she has tears left- reminding herself that she had experienced worse situations than earlier.
The feel of dirty hands loitering -touching her skin like money. She could still remember the sound of her own clothes getting ripped into pieces, shreds of it falling down her knees. Eliza had been gagged at that time, hands tied with a knot, so painful it had taken weeks to heal the marks. She wanted to scream, thrash and escape but she can't. She knew she can't. Instead, she lied down the bed that night, still and frozen, too weak and frail to react of the feel of the painful touches and the forceful kisses. And after that, she never believed in love again.
Dirty, that's what she described herself. Eliza felt dirty, she was treated like dirt, she was dirty inside and out. Wondering why she wasn't dead yet but already experienced being raped, detained and tortured. She thought it wasn't because she was brave, no, it was because she deserved this. As how unfair it was, she accepted it as her own fate nonetheless. This is her life, her unlucky destiny that she had been given.
At least she can still remember her mother's face, it was blurry for sure but it made her feel safe for once. It was real and soft, so comforting like she's a radar of happiness. Cath? Kate?... Eliza wasn't sure what her name was, but she's sure it was as beautiful as her face. Her mother was raven haired like her, slick and straight and had a blue tinge on. She had wrinkles on her face even while in a youthful age but it was clearly from laughing too much. With a lovely shade of light skin completely different from Eliza's ashen one. But when she looks at her own reflection on the mirror, it was like seeing her mother, but more vibrant and more cheery than herself. Eliza can feel her mouth quirking up, her mother-even if she can't remember her that much-always made her smile. And how she could kill someone just to be with her, to hug her, to be loved by her.
But for now, all she can do is hug her own small figure that looks about to be crushed even under her weight. Lonely and miserable, she had no one left for her. The only emotion she had been given in this house other than anger and disgust is pity. Pity, Eliza doesn't want to be pitied, she'd rather face pain again and again than be shown with pity in their eyes. Why would they show it to her? It's useless, there's nothing you could do. So why waste your time pitying a battered girl but can't save or help her?
Then again, it was only Abigail Adams that had shown pity in her eyes for Eliza. Abigail, she's the daughter of Abigail Sr. and John Adams. One of the only tolerable child of the five children. Eliza can't really tell what she's up to, Abigail's mysterious as fuck. She's also twenty years old like Eliza but she's clearly more... Presentable to look at. Eliza? She looked like a fifteen year old for fuck sake. Eliza couldn't describe her as a friend or an enemy, again she's a big mystery. Sometimes she could feel Abigail's gaze when she's being tortured. She's the one reason Eliza's still living too. The extra food she gives or the medicine she hands when Eliza's in pain.
But Eliza still doesn't consider her as anything close to a friend or a family yet not an enemy after all of what she had helped her. Abigail, when she comes into her room just tends to Eliza's battle scars quietly but with persistence. They never spoke to each other, only small 'thank yous' and nods to one another. And dear Eliza couldn't help but feel thankful for her everyday. Even though she gets mostly and probably gets scolded for helping her, she doesn't stop do doing so.
Eliza doesn't consider her as a friend because she's the enemy's daughter, no, but because all of this mysterious shit and helping she had done. Again, it's like she's up to something Eliza can't tell. She doesn't like surprises or to be surprised. She just wants to know what she's up to. She could sometimes hear Abigail talking to someone alone inside her room. Always talking about 'she'. Who's 'She'? Why was she talking to someone? Is this some kind of plan? And this is the reason why Eliza still felt uncomfortable under Abigail. Abigail's hiding something.
Eliza felt scared at first because she thought it was a ploy and Abigail is just being kind to her for a darker reason. But the talking went on more frequently and that's when she became anxious. Always trying to sneak into Abigail's room and tried to look for something useful. Once, she got inside and it was nothing she expected. The room was almost too simple for an elite family like the Adams', but the thing that shocked her even more were the maps littering around her walls, data plans, blue prints. It scared her but Eliza's curiosity was in it's highest peak, so she went on. Abigail's desk was a mess, notes highlighted with red markers and names she didn't know, and she found out a piece of paper with her name on it, encircled with red.
Her breathing hitched and her eyes widened. But that got quickly cut out by Abigail. She was standing there on her bedroom door, eerily still and quiet. Eliza locked eyes with her for a moment. In her two orbs were something Eliza can't tell, it was swirling with different kinds of emotions. Annoyance, Confusion, Anger... And Hope? That was weirder than finding out this whole crap. But seriously, hope? Why hope? That's something Eliza wants to know what it is so much. Then Abigail said "Get out of my room, Eliza." It was not a command but a request, it was soft and almost a whisper. Eliza fervently obliged and got out fast. And she heard Abigail sigh in... Relief? "Almost." She heard Abigail say again. Almost?
That was two weeks ago and she hasn't seen Abigail for almost a week already. Yet she was always going out most of her days, so Eliza wasn't that too surprise she isn't here at the moment. But the thing is, she was always here when Eliza's in pain. And let's go back to the present, Eliza staring into her mirror. Her black hair is soiled and filthy like her. She tried to smile but it turned into a pained grimace instead. With a sigh, Eliza stripped down until she was bare naked. Marks, the marks are there as clear as it could be. The roughness of the lines, it's grossly red color, some dry and scabbed. Her ribs are sticking out of her skin and her collarbones were deep.
Eliza got in the tight shower stall, small amounts of water dripping to her hair as she turned it on. Feeling calm and collected at least for now. She loved the water, it was tranquil and relaxing. Something that made Eliza relax other than her mother or the dusk. It flowed gracefully down her body, the cool liquid relieving her painful nerves. Cleaning the wounds and cuts, her nest for a hair and her bruised face with only a bar of soap. Rinsing all the dirt away and dabbing her damp skin with a skimpy towel. She is clean, well on the outside. Inside? Her soul felt like it took a dip in darkness. Tainted.
Eliza took a final glance on the mirror, it showed her mother-whatever her name was. Beautiful and vibrant, Eliza wanted to be like her. She got out of the bathroom and searched for any remaining clean clothes she can wear. Her walls, painted with bland grey were vandalized with white stick counting of how many days she had been here. There was hundreds of thousands of them. She never forgot to add one stick each day and now she picked up a piece of chalk and wrote down a single stick for today, May 30.
Trying to wear her clothes without falling and stumbling onto the floor. The clothes were baggy and a size bigger than hers. Uncomfortably itchy and rough against her skin. She cared not at all, Eliza got used to it already that she didn't give a flying fuck. Sighing because she finally finished dressing up without any hassle after and sitting at the edge of her bed without any reason. She licked her chapped lips slowly and feeling a wave of dizziness hit her. Eventually she gave in and fell onto her bed, head on her pillow and the thin blanket wrapped around her body. Closing her eyes, letting the dark depths of her mind drown her to sleep. And she did.
Little did she know, a blonde grey eyed woman took a peek at the door. It was slightly open and her eyes sparkled with something. The mystery girl closed the door with a click and sighed contentedly. And she whispered to her watch saying:
"She's okay, for now."
Chapter: 1
Word Count: 2,369 words
