Note…I don't own anything except for Gabby! Heh...and the made up cooperation…..Anyway, this only an introduction, so please don't flame too terribly. More will come! Thanks for reading. ------------------------------
The echo of the water droplets smashing against the walls of tile seemed almost comforting to Gabriella, as she lied there under its heated touch. The systematic way the drops fell onto her skin gave the illusion of control, and of serenity as the sound throbbed along with her dim heartbeat.
A low moan escaped her lips, as she tilted her head up to watch the beads of blood and of water mingle and dance on the porcelain surface. The wounds always seemed numb here, as did the severity of her life. Forcing her battered body into a sitting poison, the young woman's hand came to her temples. Applying gentle pressure to the tender spot, she tried in vain to rid herself of the oncoming migraine. Watching the explosions of colours on the fair skin, a ruptured smile graced her face. The several bruises blossoming on her body were surrounded by a sickly white, which bled into a deep red from the heated water.
Tracing a fingertip along one's pattern, she came to a quiet conclusion. They looked like flowers. Flowers on a broken woman's body. The childlike thought of pretending gave her such a jolt; she feared she was passing out once more. The flowers of broken blood vessels always grew in colour and in size, before wilting away. As for being a woman, the already too mature 17 year old shook her head.
Wincing quietly as she drew her legs in towards her, and leaned a single cheek on her burning knee. Retreating now from the savage droplets, hazel-green eyes stared at the peeling wallpaper just adjacent of her. This place was falling apart. One would think, the leader of a multi-million dollar underground assassination agency would have enough to replace the wall paper. Obviously such trivial thoughts didn't seem important in his mind, and like her, the wallpaper was left decaying and unnoticed.
The humid air further calmed her breathing, as the gasps of breath had died away. She prayed to Hyne that her ribs were only bruised, as the discolored patches spread above her stomach. Contemplating the damage, she surveyed her body carefully. A light graze upon her face told her that her left cheek was still swollen. Bending her body back into a half lying position, she counted the flowers. 18. Why she counted she never quite knew; perhaps it gave her more habits to cling to. Good dependable habits that kept her sane in this dungeon. Her shins and upper right thigh had the most obvious bruises, as her arms were decorated with scratches and the imprints of large hands.
Shuddering lightly as the memory of the evening bled into her mind, Gabby tilted her head back. Peeling away the waist length curtain of wet hair, she let a trembled coughing sound fly through her lips. Unnoticed under the cacophonous sound of the shower, another shook her chest. It wasn't until she held her face in her hands that she understood, she was weeping.
Things had not always been this way. Closing off all thought had allowed her to survive in this place, but now as it rushed back thanks to a simple childish thought, nostalgia wrapped her body in hopelessness. A piece of property, not an employee. This had been the norm for the girl. She did not sell her body, nor her love; but spilt the blood of those she was told to.
Practiced skill with her blades allowed her body to remain her own, though every time that innocent blood spilt onto her hands, her heart shattered. Here in the bowels of Esthar, the young woman remained in the power of one of the most horrendous and feared cooperation's
Faintly, under the powerful gaze of the showerhead, Gabby willed herself to die there. The image of her bloated body floating there almost gave her shivers of delight, as her eyes closed for a moment before reopening. The possibilities smashing before her disrupted mind, her hands clamored to the ledge of the tub.
The very throb of her heartbeat echoed within her ears, tormenting her with terrible images and empty promises. A defeated gaze fell upon her wrists, as she plunged the broken razor deep within them. The heated blood pooled from both wrists, as she gingerly took turns ripping the tendons deep within the flesh.
Blanketed within her blood, the young woman's eyes fluttered closed. Still under the terrible gaze of the showerhead, she dropped into a numb and thoughtless darkness.
Even as the frantic screams and curses filled the small room hours later, she did not stir.
But escaping was never easy was it?
Next chapter- Soon------