Clawing came from behind the iron door. Sounds of screaming and ripping noises. A ghostly wail echoed in the desolate education facility.
"Open the doors! Open!" A small figure wailed on the other side of the door.
She was alone in a small pink room. Doodles on the wall, from a small kitten to a violent scribble of varies people being violently murdered. A fallen lamp cast eerier shadows on the room. Blocks were thrown around, teddy bears being hung from the bed railings. The bed itself was flipped on its side, the mattress on top of it, blocking the inside from view. A lone rug in the center, blood splatter covered it.
"Open…please…" The little sisters voice went hoarse as she slumped to the ground. Tears flowing freely as she let her cherry red bangs dangle in her face.
Two years ago, this Little Sister had been as normal as any other girl her age. She went out to play with all the other little girls she knew, tagged along with her mother when she went shopping and got piggy-back rides from her father when he got back from work. Then in 1958, when she was six, Rapture went to hell. Her parents became poor as dirt, and spliced up out of their minds. They sold her to 'The Little Sister Orphanage' and checked themselves into the Poor House. From then on life seemed to be a dream, she never grew an inch and whispers about the Civil war where as common as Splicing.
The small Sister wiped her eyes and pouted at the wall across from her, "Why did all the other girls get to leave? Why did…she…have to leave me alone…"
The Sister went silent as footsteps echoed above her. She looked up, yellow eyes widen in fear. She hoped the Splicer's would ignore her cries, just walk on like they didn't hear her. This was not the case.
"Stop ogling me!" The shrill cry of a Baby Jane echoed in the Sisters holding cell. The cry was met with gunshots and radio static.
Covering her ears the Sister realized with joy, "She isn't talking to me, someone's here!"
Quickly getting to her feet she began to knock on her door, "Hello? Is anyone there?" She looked down at the door frame and saw a shadow walk in front of it.
For the first time in a month the doors opened wide and a man stood in front of her wearing a white sweater. Without thinking the Little Sister ran out and clung to the mans legs, sobbing softly.
"My God, it's a little one!" The familiar German voice came from a small radio the man had on his hip. "What is she doing here?"