There is a dark secret that Angela has kept. Far more horrible than Coyote Sands. It was an effort to try and control people with stronger powers. Something to keep them from seriously hurting others. But the result was disastrous. For years, revenge has been bubbling in a dark mind. And now it's time for people to pay. There's a fine line between madness and a mad person. Which one is which?
This will have a bunch of different genres because two just won't fit this. I'm also at the moment calling this a T, but it can and probably will go up. Things can get graphic. And as for where this would be set...I'm not entirely sure yet. I'll think about it.
I do not own anything. Sad, but true. I only own Dahlia and the idea. And just so you know, the first part is what's going on inside Dahlia's mind and her interpretation everything. And I thought it was good place to start too before it goes to third point of view. It's very important to understand the workings of her mind. You will find out sooner or later, why.
Chapter One
Dahlia's Point of View
It's hard to move. It has always been hard, but as of late, it's even harder. Things are becoming more clearer as I lay motionless on my cushioned floor. The straight jacket is uncomfortable, but strangely familiar. Oh how I've been too long in this position. A good three or four decades. It's probably time for another change. I know they move me from institution to institution, or at least they use too. They had too because after a few years, people become suspicious about the fact that I don't seem to age. Why is that? That's not from me. That's foreign. Unwelcome. Unwanted. Forced upon me cruelly. Yes, they waited too long. For days on end, I become more aware of my surroundings. The cushion room has been my friend for far too long. There's one guard who comes in with the same nurse day in and day out, feeding me like a baby. They treat me like a baby. I can't even leave to go to the restroom. I'm too dangerous. They talk softly to me and occasionally the nurse will sponge bath me while under watch. Forget about my greasy hair, it's too long and they don't want to linger in there longer than they have too. When they're gone, I lie there and stare up at the tiny window way up above me. That's how I can tell days are going by and it feeds me more than their mushy food.
Believe it or not, I was not this pathetic. I was never this pathetic before they did this to me. As I watch the sunlight stream in and fade away and the silvery moonlight come in afterwards, I slowly begin to piece things together. How dare they do this to me. I thought I was their accomplice. I meant no harm. How could they do this to me? As it pieces together, something begins to bubble inside of me. Hatred. Malice. Revenge. Bloodthirsty. Anger. No words can describe it. With this factor in place, everything starts to quicken. My cognitive functions are becoming recognizable by the nurse and the guard. And with that, my power arises from the dark.
It's good to feel again. My room becomes heavy with stifled wonder and heavy worry with a little taste of fear in the mix. When they leave, the room slowly becomes cold and quiet with no emotion lingering. As the next few days pass, I can feel the people walking past my room and what they are feeling. It's good to feel again. It's been so long. I don't feel alone anymore. I feel alive. It's too late. They didn't move me quick enough and inject me with whatever they have to keep me in this comatose state. I'm able to roll my body onto my back, and I watch the sunlight fade away. Tomorrow is the day.
Wherever Angela was, it wasn't very bright. She glanced around furtively before bringing her hands up to feel whatever laid before her. It was almost pitch dark, but up ahead, she could see bright silver light shining down. As she moved forward slowly, she began to get a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She finally reached the pool of light and kept herself in the light, not wanting to go back into the foreboding darkness. "Hello? Is anyone there?" She asked and was almost startled by the sound of her voice as it echoed. Her dreams were always telling her something. She just needed to figure out what. Quietly, she began to notice a few different things as her eyes adjusted. There was a piece of ripped cloth in the light and the floor was cushioned. The light was coming out of a very small window and the walls looked like it was made out of the same material the floor was. She didn't dare go out to touch it. "Am I going to get locked up soon?" She asked in a whisper.
"That's too generous." A rough voice answered suddenly from the darkness. The voice was cracked and whoever was talking, must have been in need of a good drink of water.
"Who's there?" Angela asked, her eyes widening in failed effort to find the person in the darkness.
"Tsk, tsk!." The voice reprimanded, before there was the sound of a clearing of a throat. "I can't believe you don't remember me, Angela." It didn't help.
"Show yourself!" She demanded.
"Really? Control? Oh yeah, there's a little fear in there too. Oh, Angela, this is just a dream. You can't die in a dream, silly." The voice told her as it began to come closer. Angela felt her body stiffen in fear as realization hit. Oh god no! "Fear. My favorite." Angela watched in horror as Dahlia Simmons step forward into the light with her. To put it bluntly, the years had not been good to her. Her once silky black hair hung limply in chunks and greasy. Her skin was sickeningly pale, and on her neck, Angela could see her blue veins. She was once a very pretty girl, but now that had changed. Her skin was pulled tight over her features, giving her an almost alien look. Her lips were chapped and cracked, the corners had crusted blood. Dark purple circles were underneath her eyes, which were the scariest part about her. Her eyes had once been a dark coffee color, but now they were burning black holes.
"Dahlia," Angela said quietly, swallowing and trying to regain her composure. To be honest, she'd rather deal with Knox and his ability to feed off of other people's fears which made him super strong. She had witnessed the extent of Dahlia's power and even suffered from some aftermath. Dahlia could control emotions. It started simply with being able to change moods. Happy to sad. Mad to calm. Nothing to worry about and definitely helpful to the Company. And then, it progressed. Every action was based on an emotion. Feelings were powerful. She had forgotten about her through the crazy events that had been happening. No one could blame her. "What happened to you?" She regretted the question as soon as she let it slip through her lips.
"What happened to me?" Dahlia repeated, her voice dripping with anger. Her eyes seemed to become even more colder and darker than before. Angela opened her mouth to say something, but Dahlia cut her off. "DO NOT try to apologize! You did this."
"It wasn't what we wanted, Dahlia. We mis-" Angela attempted.
"It doesn't matter!" Dahlia roared. "You had no right! You took away my life."
A heavy silence hung in the air. In a sad way, Angela hated to admit that she was right, but she was. "So you're going to take away mine?" She asked carefully. She had it coming with what she had done in her past. She knew her consequences would catch up to her one day. It was going to be hard to face, but it had to be done. No one-
"No." Was Dahlia's curt reply.
Angela's mind halted. "No?" She repeated in shock.
"I'm not going to give you that satisfaction. You're going to live a long, healthy life, Angela. I'll be sure of that. But you're going to wish I did take your life. You're going to grovel."
"Dahlia! Are you listening to yourself? This isn't you. You're not a monster." Angela snapped, desperately trying to appeal to the girl. "You had potential. You still do. I'm sure with the technology now, we can attempt to help you."
Dahlia's lips curved upwards and a large smirk played across her features, making her look grotesque. "You're right. I was not a monster. But you made me this way. Maybe you should have thought about helping me earlier when you weren't making a plea for your life."
"Linderman tried to do all he could to help you! Don't you-" Angela cried out.
"Be quiet! It's time for you to wake up." Dahlia snapped.
Angela woke up with start, sweating profusely. Her hands covered her heart, which was racing. With surprising gusto, she scrambled out of her bed and found her phone, calling the first person who she could confide in. Noah was not going to be happy about this.
"Time to wake up." The soft, sugary sweet voice was what woke Dahlia up. Groggily, she opened her eyes carefully, blinking in the sunlight. She had rolled right into the ray during her sleep. She felt two strong hands grabbed her gently by her shoulders and slowly help her into a sitting position. Dark, fathomless eyes found the guard and the nurse rather easily as they brought in breakfast. Brown sugar oatmeal. Dahlia felt the corner of her lips twitch before a smile spread across her features. "Someone woke up on the good side of the bed this morning." The nurse said cheerfully, exuding fake happiness into the room. Dahlia could feel her stomach churn from it. Underneath the fake emotion, there was annoyance. Apparently, she didn't want to be baby feeding Dahlia each and every morning. The guard just didn't want to be there, and she almost welcomed his unhappy wave. They would go into peace pretty soon, since they both wouldn't be there soon.
It took a few moments, but Dahlia finally made eye contact with the guard. Necessarily, she didn't have to make eye contact, but eye contact overrode stubborn people with their emotions set. Comfort. Safety. She conjured up that feeling and sent it out. The guard yawned and relaxed his posture almost immediately as he closed the door. They didn't have too, but they did it when she was sponge bathed. The nurse didn't say anything as she mix the still hot oatmeal. The nurse turn to face Dahlia with a spoonful just as Dahlia sent out another emotion out. Compassion. "You look awfully uncomfortable today." She mused quietly, her fake happiness and annoyance disappearing. "Hank, I'm going to take her out of her jacket."
Dahlia could feel his worry bubble up. "Are you sure?" He asked.
"She's been out of it ever since she got here ten years ago. She's never fought or anything. It wouldn't hurt and besides, what is she going to do? Throw oatmeal at us?" She answered, as she began to undo the jacket.
And like a pawn she took it off. Dahlia let the jacket slide off and rotated her shoulders. They were quite heavy and her arms felt like they were made out of lead. They also felt like they were floating on their own accord, but that was psychological. "Doesn't that feel good?" The nurse asked, smiling.
"I feel sorry for you." Dahlia told her, grinning as the shock registered on both of their faces. She had not made a complete sentence during her stay and the sudden talkativeness was startling. "I mean, this is no place for you to work. Either of you. I mean, if I were either of you, I'd literally want to kill myself." Words helped with emotion. They could be laced. They could introduce the emotion into the thinking process which gave Dahlia the edge. Forget Maury and his telepathy. She was better.
Depression hit the room in full mode as Dahlia began to think of darker things. Slowly, Dahlia began to move herself forward, rocking herself to her knees and then very shakily, getting onto her legs. It was learning how to walk again. She felt not only heavy but also weightless. Walking came naturally though and within seconds, she seemed to regain her motor functions. They were watching her, but now with heavy detachment. Both deep in thought about their pathetic lives and whatever possible futures they had come up with. It didn't take long for the idea of what to do click in their minds. Both of them got up and looked morosely at each other as they unlocked the door and walked out.
As the door opened, Dahlia let the wave grow and expand around her as she followed them. There was silence in the halls as she stepped out of her prison. She took two steps forward towards the exit when she began to hear heavy thuds. She could hear a couple of guns go off as well from the security guards. She passed an office just in time to see someone plunge a pencil into their heart. A laugh escaped Dahlia's lips. Her euphoria did nothing to change what was going on in the institution. People all around her were dropping left and right.
She found the exit and with great satisfaction, she pushed open the doors and was greeting by a blast of cool air. She ignored the screams from within from the people preparing themselves for suicide and coming to their senses. She had made it outside. Freedom was here at last, although she was not free. She had left her physical prison, but she was still trapped in whatever they had done to her. She began to laugh hysterically as the wind blew her hair out of her face and chilled her in her light gown. "I'm out!" She yelled triumphantly to no one as she threw her arms out and lifted her head to the sky. It was good to feel alive.
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