Hey! This is my latest fanfiction work…and this time, it's actually going to be a chapter story (I usually write oneshots) so tell me what you think about it! ^_^ This story is based on Elliot's jail time in the Jokers' prison realm. There was barely any back story based on this incident, so I created his back story myself. This was very difficult to plan out, but I was satisfied enough to not shelf it… Anyways, please do enjoy! ^_^
Disclaimer: Note that I do NOT own Heart/Clover/Joker no Kuni no Alice. It rightfully belongs to Quinrose.
Prison Log
Chapter 1: Life of Torment
Waking up.
Eating one meal a day.
Staring up at the dark ceiling.
Falling asleep.
I was subjected to follow this bothersome routine lifestyle for the amount of time I could not count. I was told to remain silent and follow several strict instructions during my imprisonment, which would last approximately ninety thousand turns. I was confined within this one cell, damaged by loneliness and the vicious frigid winters, clad in nothing else but one pair of filthy beige rags.
The only source of entertainment was the clinking of the icy metallic bars as I rolled my fingernails across, from the first bar all the way to the eighth bar-or a good rumble with one of the idiotic prisoners during mealtime, only for me to end up in the torture cell for a good beating every once in a while.
Every afternoon I rolled in the cell, waiting in pain for that one special hour: mealtime. In fact, that one meal was the only meal I had-brown, lumpy, and inedible-never orange, and never, in any shape or form, a carrot in any manner. Despite my distaste for said garbage, I would wolf it down each day, for the sake of my failing stomach. Lord knows what lived in that menu.
Afterwards, I would be dragged back into that cell, pushed violently to the floor, scraping my chin on the rough floor (I still have a faint scar on that very spot). Only after a few hours, I would hear screaming and shouting emerging from the southern hall. Those probably came from the rows of masked prisoners that Joker freshly imported. That very hour used to be torture time.
The smell of rotting flesh surrounded all halls, haunting me in my sleep.
The surrounding atmosphere triggered my vision sepia and gray, no colors except the shades of red, blue, green, violet, and yellow reflecting upon the prisoners' masks present.
Each time a shadow emerged from the entrance, I mildly hoped that another friend of mine would come and see me. But no, I would see faceless creatures and human beings of different shades of colors-red, green, and even orange. That was when I realized that there was no other friend as faithful as him. As much as I detested it, I had to admit that he was no longer a part of my life and times. After all, the lack of his presence brought me here-to this cold, lonely place-without a doubt.
If the cursed mortician did not exist, he would have been spared from a second life.
And I would not have been convicted for having committed that one ultimate sin which cursed me for the rest of my life.