This story is going to focus on very dark themes, including depression, torture, and murder, and is not intended for the faint of heart. I'm not sure how long it's going to be, or exactly how it's going to end, but for those of you troopers who keep with it, there will be an ending. Bittersweet, perhaps, but there will be closure. We'll just have to see how it comes out. Reviews may just push the story along different courses. (wink, wink)
Prologue
Alone in a dark room, a young girl gasps frantically, laboring to take another breath, to draw more oxygen into her ravaged lungs, to combat the heartsblood slowly filling the organs. The girl's eyes glaze as she stares up at a smooth, empty ceiling—blinded by the pain in her body, and in her soul. Desperately, she tries to speak, to call out. Blood bubbles out of her open mouth, gagging the girl. In a last act of defiance—toward her tormentor, now long gone; or the inevitable, she could not be sure—the young woman clawed at the wet carpet, dragging herself, twisting her broken body to the side, so she could cough out the offending fluids.
"Please," she cried, barely above a whisper, "please, someone…… please help me….."
Another coughing fit, as one of her lungs collapsed completely. More blood on the carpet, another mess for someone to clean up. The girl's body convulsed at that thought, and her crimson lips curled up into a sardonic smile at her own absurd thought process. Surely whoever found her would have more to deal with than a stained carpet.
Her smile fading into a grimace of pain, the young woman tried once more to call out. Her voice sounded so small in her ears, so lost amongst the throbbing that rose in volume as her heartbeat ebbed. "Please."
Her eyes teared in frustration, at the cruelty of her captor, at her own weakness; even at her lost god—the faith that had failed to see her through her father's abuses; that had delivered her into the hands of that….. that monster. Another cough; another scarlet flower blossoming on the beige carpet.
"No….." she whispered to herself, "No!" Louder, through gritted teeth. "I don't want to die….. I don't…."
Her body curled up on itself as a massive wave of pain flowed through her, over her. The girl whimpered, no longer able to cry out. Her arms and legs began to shake, and her teeth bit into her lip as her body failed.
"It hurts! It hurts! Someone, anyone! Please, save me! Mother, save me!"
The young woman felt soft hands lift her head, drawing her into a warm embrace. With the last of her strength, the dying girl turned her head into the warmth, burying her face against the soft figure. Gentle hands caressed her, one patting her back, while the other ran its long, delicate fingers through her matted hair.
"Shh, little one," the figure replied, its voice soft and gentle, with a slight huskiness. "Rest now. It's all right."
The figure leaned forward, its face all but touching the young girl's head. "Pain, pain, fly away," it whispered softly, kissing the girl's brow.
The young woman sighed and closed her eyes, surprised to find that the pain truly was gone.
The figure sat in silence, rocking the body in her arms for a moment longer before setting it gently to the ground. It stands, its black cape falling into place behind it, revealing feminine curves. The woman's head remains tilted downward, causing long blonde ponytails to fall to either side of her sculpted face. The blonde lifts her head and holds her arms before her. "Bardiche," she murmurs, opening burgundy eyes as a scythe manifests in her waiting hands.
The young blonde looks down sadly at the broken girl before her, and—almost lovingly—taps the head of her weapon against the body. A small, blue wisp drifts upward from the still-warm corpse, and is drawn into the large yellow gem mounted on the scythe.
The woman blinks in surprise, and wipes away a single tear that had risen, unbidden, to the surface, and takes a step backward, away from the bloody scene before her. Shaking her head sadly, the young woman closes her eyes again, bidding herself vanish.