I finally got the guts to write another FMA fan fiction after the epic failure of my last one. The first chapter is actually a short-story I had to do for English class, but it was designed in a way so that I could blend it in smoothly as the beginning of a fan fiction, but if cut off at the first chapter, could be a story in itself. So, yeah. Oh, and this is in my OC's,Amelia Schwindsucht, POV.
Fall to the sea,
Young
scientist,
And when you do you'll see,
The pain that builds up
inside of me,
But don't cry,
I'll soon die,
And leave the
stress and pain behind.
~Me
Consumption
I still remember clearly the day my father left. My eyes peered from behind the rotted wood door as he gave my mother one last hug, one last kiss. In my polluted childhood eyes, it appeared to me he were walking straight out that white painted door into the face of a nuclear explosion. I never realized I was the one facing a premature death as well.
The news arrived only a short, miserable week later. My father, captured and tortured to death by an "unknown" group.
"Unknown?!" I shrieked, "Does that mean that the government doesn't have even the slightest idea who they're fighting?!"
A few harsh coughs made their way out followed by a miserable sob and ice cold tears. Each one felt like a dagger ripping down my face. My father, murdered at the tender age of 30.
Now, looking back, I realized that was extremely far from the truth. The government just hid the truth from us. Saying it was an "unknown" group was so much easier than saying it was our grandparents' homeland. Being deceitful was so much easier than hurting us. As I reminisced about my mangled childhood, a small pain arose in my chest. I ignored it and peered into the darkness that consumed the outside world. I coughed harshly, twice, then placed my feet on the cold wood floor. Another wave of pain racked my lungs as I subsided to the pain. Cough after painful cough, ending in one awful, retching noise. My hand, now removed from my face, revealed the reason for that stomach churning noise. My pale skin was highlighted by a dark, nauseating red.
I inhaled sharply. Now was not the time to panic. Oh no, for that chance had passed. Now was the time to be ingested by suffering. The only outer presence I was aware of was my knees sharply hitting the floor, that, and the sharp, metallic stench of blood. Maybe this was all one awful, sadistic nightmare. But it couldn't be, for I felt the pain, the agonizing waves of pain that knocked my body to the cold floor. I couldn't see anything now, save for the dark scarlet blood stain on my hand. Another pain knocked me over as I continued to cough, tasting the foul, copper like scarlet. My eye lids clamped together, so the only thing I was aware of was my harsh coughing. My head began to spin, and I knew that it wasn't only the blood loss, but the disease itself causing it.
I began to feel lightheaded and…. Separate, as though floating away, from my body. I barely felt my face hit the floor, my heart stop beating, or heard the sirens wailing in the background as much as I felt my soul being dragged away from my body.
Here I thought I was going to be killed by nuclear strike, when my body was being slowly eroded by "Consumption".
