Another crazy (literally) idea I had last night, at about four in the morning.
Again, let me warn you: OOC, AU ahead. Try and guess the characters, hm? xD
Another Prologue, trying to see if I really do like the way this is heading.
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. End of story.
Please take time to read and review, could you?
Broken Beauty --Prologue
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The walls were not of magic and myth, not padded, just a bland white paint, which was slowly crumbling and peeling off almost as quickly as the inmates were wasting away inside. The days were customary, and the rules were enforced, but nearly unnecessary, as after awhile, no one had the energy or will to create havoc, because that just meant one more day you were condemned to the quarters, one more day you were living blankly, tackling years to your life, but dragging the life from the years.
The place was dreary, though no one really noticed. The ones who left daily weren't there long enough to care, and the others were there too often to. This wasn't helping, on the contrary, it was hurting. Locked inside an empty room, with an empty soul, your only companion the limitless imagination of your own mind. A killer's own sanctum.
She was pale, but dark. She was full, but starved. She wanted to leave...
But she had nowhere to go.
She couldn't run away, because she would be caught, and again, that meant more time she would have to stay. But it didn't really matter, because she couldn't leave. She'd never be released to the freedom and welcome arms of nature, and outside living. And she knew that she had made mistakes, but she had realized them, and she knew that she was capable of leaving. But she had no money, and had no family, and no one nowadays took pity on anyone but themselves. And why should they? She had scars on her wrist that would never fade, and dreams in her heart that had already died. She'd be no asset.
If she died, no one would mourn her. No one knew her. The others living there, as she had so named them, "The others", didn't care. Why should they? She never spoke to them. It was a dangerous game to play, making friends, as they so quickly came and left, and emotional attachments were one thing that she did not need.
Rays of light peeked in through the off-white curtains, lighting her ghostly white face a bit, though really the total effect was just like a Halloween Jack-o-Lantern, her face remaining the same, but the sun alighting her eyes and hair, not making them spectacular, like they once were, but bright enough to give her an eerie, unhealthy looking glow.
Judging by how many hours she had been up, she realized she must have woken too early, probably when it was still dark out, because breakfast came at seven every morning. She wasn't hungry, but then again, she normally wasn't, so this didn't bother her or anyone else.
The food quality left much to be desired, and she often felt somewhat amused when she thought of what exactly it tasted like. Rumored it was better than jail food (though she had never been there, herself.) but worse than school food. When she even was in school, she didn't pay much attention to school food, often preferring to bring her own neatly packed lunch...But the fact of the matter was that she just liked remembering school: it was a good place to her, a place with generally happy memories, and her home away from home. She was a wonderful student: strong and athletic, kind and bright. She was on the student council, in the honors program, and still helped out with the school kendo club. She had been pretty --not beautiful, but pretty, and she was kind. She was almost, in every aspect, the perfect girl.
So how did she end up here? Living her years, reminiscing with falling tears.
It was a story she didn't want to bring up, a story which left a lot --too much-- blame on her, and not enough on the people who made her life a living hell, who trapped her into darkness at the worst possible time, and drove her to insanity. She didn't ask for this...
...It just befell her.
The doors in her room locked from the outside, which was rather ironic for all of the times she had been told to make companions, and stop wallowing in her self pity. How would she ever get out if she had to wait for someone to set her free?
Her only solace was a solitary window, which she could open as she pleased, but it was very small, so it was impossible to climb out, and even worse still, with bars across the only escape she'd have for the rest of her life, and still yet, she was nothing more than a small bird being caged in, her wings clipped from flight.
Her soliloquized thoughts ended abruptly, as the handle of the door, as if known it was previously acknowledged, gently twisted until it opened, revealing a stout but firm old woman, her eyes no more kind than the patients eyes were happy.
"Breakfast," The old nurse grunted, and nearly slammed the tray at the foot of the bed, the young woman being forced to eat it sitting at the head, facing the window and not looking back.
"I am not hungry," She said quietly, but the nurse paid no heed. She wasn't paid to be tried by difficult complaints.
"No one asked, missy, if you were hungry." The woman replied, tapping her foot on the tile floor.
"And no one asked if you asked," She said icily, the girl turning towards the catty old nurse, and picking her tray up. "And next time, you'll be well advised not to force me to do anything!" Her voice had risen far above her normal level, nearly yelling, but in a controlled, almost firm manner.
Then the tray found itself in the air, crashing upon the woman's face, knocking her down.
The nurse sat, stunned, for only a moment before she cried out herself.
"Damn you, you crazed lunatics! I know the world would be better off without you!"
Soon, the room wasn't only occupied by the two women -- at least half a dozen other adults came and stood in the doorframe.
Murmurs were heard eloquently to the young teen, who knew she was in trouble, but not of what sort.
"It'd happen eventually," One doctor said, stepping forward, his bright red hair contrasting crazily with the white walls. "Let me handle her." His voice was nearly a monotone, but it was equipped with some kind of hint of a tone she couldn't quite identify.
And somehow, the malicious glint in his amber eyes didn't quite calm her nerves.
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End Prologue