Awaken, My Lamb
Author's Note: Just a little thing I wrote in about ten to fifteen minutes. It takes place just before the AR Elizabeth gives up and joins Comstock. It's really short and I'm not sure that it makes sense. Anyway, leave a review if you like it or not. :)
Who was this girl in the mirror? The one with the listless eyes and a broken smile?
She remembered a time when she shone with innocence and youth, naive to the horrors of this world. A time before Booker Dewitt, before the pain of heartbreak and betrayal set in like icy claws that closed upon her soul. Now, she was little more than a lifeless shell, a bitter woman playing a loosing game. Comstock had all the time in the world, and she had nothing left to hope for.
In the beginning she had defied them, holding out hope that Booker would come for her, that he would relieve her of this hell she found herself in. She endured the never ending torture, refusing to break down and give up even though every ounce of her body begged her for an end to its suffering. She refused the food they offered, ignored the advice they gave her, she isolated herself inside her mind. Ever so slowly the days passed into weeks, that rolled into months, and the months melted into years.
Slowly but surely the old Elizabeth died, each day her hope waning a little more. Eventually she stopped hoping, she stopped praying, she stopped caring. In her place stood a cold and dark woman, who hid her pain and heartbreak and anger behind a stoney mask of indifference. Even the torture meant little to her now. She no longer screamed and begged for them to 'just stop hurting her,' no longer questioned why they did the things they did.
Some days Comstock visited. These were the days she was actually forced to look human. They bathed her and slipped her into a silky lavish dress and brushed her short brown hair. Then they would parade her in front of him, comment on how much quieter and submissive she had gotten, how the "treatments" were going along nicely now that she wasn't fighting back. She was little more than an expensive puppet to them, and everyone was waiting to see when she would hand over her strings.
She managed to hold out for a long time despite the odds, but now she had reached the end. She was tired of waiting for a man who was never going to show up. She was tired of waiting for a salvation that didn't exist. In the end, it was time that broke her down. Time and the decay of the golden pedestal that Booker had long since fallen from.
Fingering the charm on the choker at her neck, Elizabeth whispers with bitter finality into the mirror, "You win, Prophet."
Then the door swings open and lets in the light.
