Imperfections and Flaws
Chapter 1: Introductions From Ophelia
"You and I are on two different levels, I honestly cannot compete with someone—no something like you, Claude. It's simply not built in my nature to do so."
Can you smell it? The fresh morning air as it drifts through my window of my room? My shabby, dirty, depressing room. My room that is not really mines. My room that feels like a prison cell, a cage, or temporary containment for me. This room isn't a room, well to me it isn't. This room belongs to the orphanage I'm currently residing at. This orphanage is going to be the end of me. It's cold here, it's practically empty. Poor. Barren. Those are the only words that can be used to describe it. Technically, this orphanage isn't really an orphanage. They use the word, 'orphanage' to describe the horrors that go on behind the closed doors here. London's government figured that since kids weren't being adopted from here, they might as well get rid of the residents somehow. So that's how Weather Fain's orphanage turned into Gideon Eldridge's playground.
Gideon Eldridge. How should I describe this man…I think the words: sickening, incorrigible, and slightly psychotic, can describe this sick excuse for a man. As I mentioned before, the place I stay at now has been turned from an orphanage to a sick experiment playground for this man. He was apparently 'hired' by the Queen herself, Lady Elizabeth. I never knew that our Queen would harbor such horrid desires as these. Desires to purify the world of 'impure' people. Apparently, children without parents are considered 'impure' to her as she deemed it was fine for a repulsive man like Gideon to conduct 'experiments' on kids. Kids like us. Kids like me. I spent two depressing, revolting years here. Want to know why they're so revolting? Apparently, the minute Gideon stepped foot here a year ago and saw me, I instantly became his favorite play toy. I would always ask him repetitively, 'why?'
He would always answer, "You're beautiful. Sickeningly beautiful. You stood out from the other children, and I thought, 'that wouldn't do'. I chose you because I wanted to be the one to break you. I want to show you, that you're nothing but imperfections and flaws. I want to destroy and break you, to the point of where you won't want to live anymore. I will take away anything and everything precious to you. I don't want to make you feel depression; I want to make you live it. Do you hear me? I'll never let you go, you're mine."
Those words would run through my mind so many times while he would torture me and conduct experiments that I would object to. That's not where he stops though; he's taken something else from me too, something I can't ever really get back. The first act he did to 'break' me, was none other than to deflower me. It effectively worked, as I refused to eat and my barriers came crashing down. I didn't feel beautiful, I felt as if I was ugly inside and out. After finishing the deed, Gideon only got up and flashed me a nasty smile.
His words, exactly, were, "this is only the beginning. If you think you're broken now, wait until I have some more fun with you. I should honestly thank the Queen for this opportunity she's granted me. Hah, well then, see you tomorrow sweet flower. Don't miss me too much~."
I shivered at those words. It was morning already, but the sun hasn't risen yet. The only reason why I'm awake now is because there's screams coming from down the hall. Another kid is being subjected to their, 'experiments'. I'm surprised I'm actually alive past four experiments. In the past two years, new residents come and replace the old ones that left. In terms of 'leaving', they don't leave the orphanage. They simply pass away and the disgusting old fools that work here now cover it up by saying they were adopted into a new loving family after their successful experiments. Since the beginning when they arrived here, I knew about seventeen other kids. I guess you could call us the 'originals'. After a time span of two years, the number seventeen decreased slowly until there were only three left. I was one of the remaining three, and my best friend was the second of the two. As of right now, number three is going through all of the pain. I don't even think there's a three anymore, he kind of lost his sanity a few months back. The screaming finally went silent, and I could hear a loud, 'thump' as the body was carelessly dumped on the ground. The shuffling of bags could be heard then footsteps down the hall.
Now there were officially only two originals. The second original, as I mentioned before, is my best and only friend. He's been here with me since the beginning and we just connected like that. I don't know what it is about him, but he has this comforting air about him. When I'm near him, it's like I'm not even in some crazy place with people set out to hurt me. I guess you can say he's what makes living here everyday somewhat bearable. I'm thankful I have someone like Garrett with me. His family left him here after deciding that he wasn't worthy of being their heir since he was always so sick, so they threw him here. If only they knew what this place has become, would they change their minds?
As for me, my name's Ophelia. No last name really because I have no family. Garrett thinks I'm related to some guy named Victor Hartford, since our looks are dead on exact. It couldn't be, because Victor Hartford is a bachelor, in his mid thirties, and part of the lines of nobles directly under the Queen. Why would someone like me or how could someone like me be possibly related to that? After what the Queen's done, I wish nothing but harm for her and her followers. The last thing I'd want is to be related by blood to any of those mongrels.
Garrett finds my personality funny. He says my dry, sadistic sense of humor really cracks him up. Huh, I don't know how, but he certainly is a weird one. Well, it may also be weird that he's about five years younger than me. He's only twelve, and I'm seventeen, about to turn eighteen in the next month or so. I honestly don't remember my own birthday! He came to the orphanage, like I said, two years ago a few months after I arrived. He's got dirty blonde hair, and these gorgeous green eyes that captivate you. However, the doctors here decided that he's too perfect of a child so they knocked his looks down a bit. His dirty locks grew long and shaggy, and one of his eyes went missing. He's always wearing a gauze over his left eye now, since the doctors took it. After going through such pain, he came back to the room we shared with a sad smile on his beautiful face.
"They took it Lily, they took my eye," he told her as he sat next to her.
"W-why would they take y-your eye Ret?" I asked, already knowing the answer myself.
"They wanted to know why an 'impure' kid like me would have such 'beautiful' eyes. They said it was undeserving, and that it wasn't fair to all of the pure people. An impure kid like me with something beautiful, hah. I'm anything but beautiful, Lily." He pulled his knees close to his chest and rested his chin on his kneecaps.
"That's not true. You're beautiful inside and outside Ret. Don't ever forget that. You don't think I don't know what they're trying to do to us? They're trying to break us, mentally and physically. They want to strip us of everything we have, including our feelings. These people—no they don't deserve to be called people. These monsters, they live to see us suffer in agony. I won't give them what they want though. I'll fight until the end, if I have to. Just bear with it, bear with me. Don't give up before I do, okay Ret? Swear on it." I told him, lifting my hand up to my face. I bit down on my thumb, drawing blood, then held it up in front of him. He looked up slowly, his only eye filled with sorrow and hope at the same time. He copied my actions, then our fingers met and our blood mixed.
"It's a blood compact. You must be serious about this Lily, and don't worry. I don't plan on dying before you, since I'm younger than you. Let's just hope we can live through this. I'll be with you until the end."
"Same here, Ret, same here."
I looked down at the kid that actually made a blood compact with me. He was snoring softly and shivering slightly. I threw a small smile at him and reached over. I grabbed my thin blanket that I wasn't using and covered him with it. His body shifted, then stopped shivering. I shifted my gaze back outside. It was almost morning as the sun was starting to rise slowly. Now that I remember it, the third original had told me something a month ago, before he went completely loony. Something about demons, and contracting with it.
"Hey Ophelia!" a voice exclaimed from the other side of the hallway.
"What do you want Lance?" I asked back, cautious of what he was trying to do. He was on the verge of insanity already, as he would give off hysterical fits of laughter in the middle of the night.
"Y'know there's a legend around here. My friends told me! The faeries! They exist! Ya just gotta believe and ya gotta do this ritual to get it's attention! My friends, the ones who tell me everything, say that if you follow the ritual then something magical will happen. Someone will come and fulfill all your wishes! Isn't that great!" he exclaimed hysterically. Those tests and torture sessions were starting to get to him.
"L-lance you okay? You don't sound alright," I reply with concern in my voice.
"Nah I'm fine, dandy! Ophelia…since I'm not allowed to leave my room anymore…can…can you perform this ritual for me! Please? I just want to know if it's true, if my friends are telling the truth!" he looked at me with pleading eyes, almost begging. I couldn't turn his request down, when he mentioned 'his friends' I couldn't reject him. In truth, he didn't have any friends, his mind was playing tricks with him. He would tell me everyday that people would talk to him, which would be a lie because he had a room to himself and himself only. He also says that he has two roommates that have been with him for some time. It's false though, the room's empty except for him. I kinda pitied the guy. He was suffering from an extreme case of schizophrenia.
"Y-yeah, sure. What's the ritual?" I asked, voice conveying my hesitation.
"Alright, so you can only perform this early in the morning, around when the sun rises. You walk outside into the forest and find a spider web covered with morning dew. You then walk through the dew covered spider web and let it rest on your face. After that, you head towards a thick tree that stands out from all other trees, and whisper the words, 'hoheo taralna, rondero tarel'. Only then will the faeries show themselves. You gotta do it for me Ophelia, just try!"
I couldn't really blame him, but I did tell him I was going to try. It's the least I could do for a fellow kid that suffered through so much. It's all I can do.
A/N: Yes I am aware that this story is off of my Quizilla account, but I transferred this story here hoping to reach a broader audience. Please review as this would be helpful to me c: .
The reason for Ophelia speaking in the informal manner is to show that she's a part of the lower class in the Victorian Era. Higher classes like the Queen or Ciel would speak in a formal way, avoiding contractions and poor grammar. Just thought I'd let you know. c:
