My very first (public) fanfiction. I would sincerely appreciate criticism. All of it will help me to become a better writer, so don't hold back! Tell me what you think!
Summary: Adelaide Lynn, thief, ragamuffin, homeless, is cornered by a man in the forbidden Old District. The looks he gives her aren't nice, and neither is he. Waking up in a hospital, Adelaide learns that she is scarred for life. Really, scarred. Marks cover her from head to toe. Where did that man go, and what were his intentions in carving her up with these strange designs?
Chapter One: New Day
She walked, getting lost inside her own head for a moment. She tripped, and heard footsteps coming up behind her. She pushed herself up on elbows. "How did you trip?" they asked, helping the girl up. "I forgot how to use my legs," the child replied in wonder, looking up with the sun in her eyes.
I had to pick myself up again. Damn it, I'd forgotten how hard guys could hit. "Yeah, you better walk away!" I said defiantly to his back, wiping the blood from the side of my mouth. My face probably didn't look too pretty right now, but what the heck, it never looked all that pretty in the first place. There was, I was certain, bruising on my neck from where he'd tried pinning me down before. I didn't even know why I was fighting him, really. He just reeked of pent-up angst, and the look he'd given me had made my skin crawl. And yet, I simply had to ask him, "What the heck you lookin' at, prissy-pants?" That was pretty much how it got started.
"Go on you little shi-" but I didn't get to finish that sentence, as he spun and came at me. He was like a charging bull, and I felt that this imagery was oddly hilarious, though it might've been because of how many hits to the head I'd taken. I laughed somewhat hysterically before my ankle let out as he hit me with a surprise uppercut that connected with my chin. Fu-! I didn't even get to finish that thought before his smirking face was all I could see, his foot planted in my chest. I swore something cracked there as he leaned his weight onto my ribcage. I spluttered, and found I couldn't breath, my lungs choking on the little air I could pull in. I couldn't scream.
My heart was shuddering, my hands shaking, though I could not lift them for the pain. And he pulled out his knife, and rested it against the hollow of my throat before he pulled my head upwards sharply by my hair. Something pulled against whatever had cracked, and I let out a strangled noise before his blade sunk into my skin. His eyes spelled out the word he felt was perfect for how I looked now as he drew the blade, stinging, against the hollow of my neck. He thought that it was beautiful, the way in which my skin parted for the lines he drew; bile bubbled in my throat as I witnessed this defacement of my body. He continued the lines almost everywhere, not stopping to spare the only clothes I possessed. The pain was excruciating. Oh god, did it hurt, this bastard carving me with intricate lines, tracing patterns of my pain so as to spell them out in my own skin.
There came the time, in that dark alley, when I felt my vision blurring, and a high pitched sound came to run continuously through my ears. I imagined footsteps, imagined that there was someone who had happened to disobey the military ordinance that no one trespass upon the Old District. But I knew, even as I faded, willing myself to find some escape from the pain, that only vagabonds and drifters would pass through here.
There was a small clacking sound that I could eventually hear when my sense of sight failed me, and my body was too numb from blocking out the pain. I hurt so much, yet I was sure somehow that the knife had finally been removed from my skin. The sound reminded me of my childhood, the teacher writing on the board, the sound of chalk being put to the plate. I passed into my memory, and watched from an angle absurdly close to my teacher's hand as she drew a single straight line ever so slowly downward. The chalk cracked, and made a clinking noise as it connected with the stone floor. Everything went black, and my world was only the sound of my gasping, the ringing sound, and the heavy breathing of my attacker.
Before I completely faded from reality, before I descended into dark depths, I heard him speak a word, "Finished." Then, I was so sure, there actually were footsteps. It was undeniably a product of wishful thinking. The last thing I knew was the copper taste of blood in my mouth.
I felt so stiff, and I could barely move. My lids felt too heavy to lift, even though I was dying (ha) to see where I was. If I wasn't dead, and I was sure I wouldn't be allowed into heaven, I wanted to know where I was. For a moment, I wondered if I was still in that alley in the Old District, but whatever I was lying on was too soft to be broken cobble, though I wasn't certain if it was a bed either.
I tried to breathe deeply, and my breath caught in a strange way as my expanding lungs pressed against my probably broken rib. But what was this? It felt like someone had applied a bandage to keep my rib in a relatively stiff position. And now that I considered it, when I moved my fingers, I felt there were bandages even there.
Was I…? But who could've brought me here? No, there was no way I was in a hospital, was there? My sense of smell was of no use, naturally. My sinuses had probably swollen pretty badly. It may have been because of a broken nose, and I wouldn't be surprised, or maybe the bile I'd choked on had inflamed them.
I moaned as I tried to move my hand. I was itching and stinging all over. Still, I knew that there were worse things that could've happened in that alley than being carved up all over my body. Well, I might have a change of opinion once I got a good look at myself. It was then that someone poked their head into my room. I couldn't move my head to see them except out of the corner of my eye since he hadn't bothered to spare my face, the same as my clothes. "Hello?" I asked, my voice faint and raw. I heard a shuddering, relieved sigh. The person walked into my room.
"Hello, miss, my name is Kerril, and I'll be your attending nurse," she paused, her eyes betraying some pity. It hardened my heart for a minute, until I remembered that I wasn't just some kid on the street anymore. Now I was a highly scarred kid, who'd ended up in the hospital… Which reminded me.
"How did I," I had to try and clear my throat, though that only hurt it more. I grimaced and started again. "How did I get here?"
She looked like she was going to bite her lip off with uncertainty. "The thing is, miss, that we aren't sure." Something seemed to dawn on her and she reached for the clipboard at the foot of my bed, "Could you tell me your name, please?"
I was at least glad that she had a polite bedside manner. "Adelaide Lynn," I told her.
"And your last name?" she asked, and I had to explain that Lynn was my last name. People tended to think I had a two-name first name. "Now, I know that the doctor will be in to check on you later, and he'll be wanting to know how you, uh, received your injuries." Kerril exhaled, seeming to bring herself up to the point. "Do you remember how you received these wounds?" Her eyebrows were extending into her forehead with worry.
I cringed, and felt the bandages on my face pull uncomfortably. "I wish I didn't," I told Kerril, feeling in the middle-aged woman a motherly companion such as I hadn't in a long time. "Though," I said quickly, feeling she was going to make a wrong assumption, "I'm still really glad that all that guy did was cut me. He could've easily done much worse." My voice was gradually returning to normal, even though my throat was still sore and a little scratchy.
Eventually, the doctor did come in, and I was asked if I was willing to make a report. My face undeniably paled at the idea of coming face-to-face with military personnel. "No," I told him immediately, then added, "My mind's a bit fuzzy on what they looked like." A shudder ran down my spine, and that hurt honestly.
"They? As in, more than one person?" he asked, his eyebrows rose above his glasses, which were reflecting light at me uncomfortably. He was worried. I sighed.
"Fine, if you're going to press it Mr. Doctor, I'll make a report. Just let me heal before I do it," what I was thinking was, let me figure out a way to get out of here without getting caught. He let me be, his face relaxed. Damn courteous people, I was going to go insane having all these people actually trying to find my best interests. I knew I was screwed for life, but somehow the people here didn't.
With no stinking talent in anything, and what used to be my moderately okay face all effed up, there was no one who would want to even come close. Sure, the nurse and the doctor only saw someone who'd been abused, but it didn't mean that other people were like that. It'd have to be some kind of miracle for there to be even ten people who wouldn't mind looking at my face now. God, I didn't even know how much more screwed up I looked now. This was going to be horrible, waiting to see how much worse I looked.
Kerril was with me all the time; she helped me eat, seeing as I couldn't bend any part of my body without my wounds opening up. However shallow they were on my skin, the traceries he'd toiled into my skin were so intricate, one movement too big, and it would pull at different parts all along my limbs. The changing of my bandages was painful. They tended to stick, and turning me over to get to the lines on my back, the backs of my arms, and legs, was probably the worst part. My rib was healing. It had been broken, like I'd thought. I kept thinking if I ever saw that bastard again, I was going to kill him. Still, the waiting game dragged on. Heck, I still couldn't move my head for the lines traced on my neck up to my face.
And then, even when it became safe for me to move at least a little, I put off asking for a mirror. I realized belatedly that I probably could have asked Kerril for one a while ago. She hadn't suggested it, though it had probably occurred to her as well, and she was putting it off the same as me. Crap. It probably was that bad then.
It took me an extra day of deliberation before I mustered up the courage to ask Kerril if I could see my reflection. I could finally move my lungs without fear of disturbing a broken rib; it was almost healed by now. I could also move my legs and arms to an extent, though I couldn't feed myself yet. She walked into my room with my lunch tray in her hands, a pleasant smile on her face. Here goes!
I opened my mouth for a moment, and just sighed. I tried again. "Kerril," I forced myself to say the rest, "could you get me a mirror?" I watched her face falter, and she set my tray of food down.
"After lunch," she said. I nodded, and time passed as she helped me eat. I wasn't sure what it meant, but I could make guesses. Did she think I might refuse food after seeing my face? Ugh, my stupid mouth was what had gotten me into trouble in the first place. If only… But it did no good to think about what-ifs, however tempting it might be to dwell on them.
After my tray of food was empty, Kerril moved to slowly walk out and give my tray to an orderly. She was turning halfway back to me, probably thinking of ways to put it off.
"Kerril, please. A mirror," I told her. There was a lump in my throat now. I was terrified by how bad I would look, but I knew that I couldn't keep living this way. I needed to see the damage.
Kerril looked at me for a moment, likely sensing my train of thought, and ducked out the door. I heard her quietly asking around for a handheld mirror. It got quieter outside at the nurse's station, and I could hear Kerril pause at my door before walking in. The mirror was tucked against her chest, hiding my reflection from me for a few seconds longer.
And then she slowly held the mirror up in front of me. What was she trying to pull? I thought. That wasn't me in the mirror, if it was a mirror. But I moved, and my breath became shaky, as I couldn't deny any longer that the reflection in the mirror was anyone but me. My teeth chattered, and I broke the rules, bending my arms to reach my face. I could feel the pain in that movement, yes, but yet I couldn't at the same time.
There were flaming red marks all over my face. There was also the yellow of healing bruises I'd forgotten completely. I shook visibly. And then I bent my hands to my head, and I sobbed. I leaned back against the pillows, watching from beneath my arm as the tears cascading down my face collected at the ridges of the scars beneath my eyes before falling further and following the curved line of the other scars below. The salt of my tears burned a little in the healing wounds. I couldn't look at Kerril. How had she been able to even look at me without wanting to run away? How could she have smiled at me and acted so effing polite?
I lifted my scarred hands, and looked at them, my chest heaving. I sat up for the first time, against Kerril's protests, ripped the blankets from myself, and saw the possibly hundreds of red lines of dried blood through the bandages covering my body. I screamed, in agony of pain, and agony of… What? What exactly was I crying for? Maybe it was because I felt like I wasn't myself anymore. If so, who the heck was I now? Who was this scarred girl sobbing in a hospital bed? It wasn't me. It wasn't me it wasn't me it wasn't me!
I could hear the footsteps of other nurses gathering at the door, a doctor coming in with a small group of them. They held me down as I screamed, and shook my head and tore open all the wounds as I squirmed. The pressure of them holding me down hurt too, but I didn't care. What was I going to do? I couldn't recognize myself! I felt a pain somewhere deeper than the surface, a small pinch of a needle sliding into the inside of my arm. My body tried to curl in once they released me, but they put on hospital manacles to hold me immobile so as to allow my body to heal, whether I wanted to or not. It was their job. I quieted down very fast, and ended up sobbing in my uneasy, drug-induced sleep.
Yes, it really is an FMA fic, but I wanted to make a real person, not just start it out with Ed and Al and my OC and rush through it. Forgive me if it's a little slow, or if you were expecting the brothers in this chapter. I'm not sure when I'm going to add them in exactly, but I'm not going to make you guys wait too long. That would just be rude. Your comments are always appreciated!
~Kena