Chapter I. Golden Pills
The glass in her hand fell, shattering in a thousand fragments while cold water spilled all over the wooden floor, soaking the beige sheets and her naked feet. Sam cursed, reaching for the handkerchief lying on the desk next to her. Soft steps resonated in the hallway as they rushed to her room; she knew it was her mother from their cadence. She faced the door as it opened to reveal a woman in her late forties paused at the entrance. The lady wore a salmon dress that ended at her knees, it's vintage style matched her wavy strawberry bangs. The worried expression on her face distorted the now older features that Sam still wasn't used to seeing.
"Sammy dear, is there anything wrong?" Asked the anxious woman, seeing the glittery disaster that was now the room's floor. It annoyed Sam every time her parents entered the room without asking beforehand.
"It's nothing, I just…used too much force." The answer came nonchalantly, to her surprise, as the inside of her mind meddled in nervousness at what she had been reduced to. Since her awakening she had become something to be nurtured, cared and protected from everything, even herself. She hated her own impotence, the dependency they all believed would always exist, they were underestimating her strength of will.
As her mother sat by her side on the bed, she took the piece of cloth from her hand and started drying the small drops of water hanging from her slim fingers; patterns of thorns and roses, wrapping around them and reaching her shoulder, their luster standing out over the dark material that made her left arm. It was a beautiful sight, as if the vines were real, but it didn't matter to her. In the end, she was the one that had to endure the loss, craving for what she would never have again. Sam promptly retired her hand, sliding it behind her back, she regretted her action when she saw the pity in her mother's eyes. She couldn't stand it; not her, not her own mother.
"Aww, Sammy-kins…" The soothing voice of her mother saddened at the gesture.
"I don't want to talk about this again . Not with you." Hearing the tone in her mother's voice hit a nerve, and the rudeness in her statement made the elder woman frown. Sam instantly felt the pang of culpability; it wasn't her fault, it was no one's fault. So, yes, she was angry and hurt, but her mother only wanted the best for her, right? Still, Sam didn't lower her gaze, a wild light burning in her amethyst colored older woman sighed at her daughter, comprehension appearing on her face, surprising the girl.
"Samantha, I understand you don't want any of us to worry, but your father and I need to be reassured. That's why we both have decided to throw a party for your recovery ." Enthusiasm overflowing from the woman as she said those last words.
"Thanks, I thought you might-... You- No. No, you won't." Sam stumbled, not sure if she heard right, but seeing her mother's expression she knew it wasn't her imagination. She couldn't believe it. They wanted to show her off, like a half-witted doll and all of this just so they could be reassured? She got up, heat going to her head as the anger numbed her mind, she was about to say something when her mother started talking.
"Darling, it's for the best, you'll see! The doctors said you were doing better. Interacting with people of your age will improve your health, and anyway, I already have your dress!" Sam sneered as an answer. Her parents would be the end of her if she let them do as they pleased.
Oblivious to her daughter's emotions, the red haired woman took her by the elbow, already leading her outside the white room and into the hallway. She knew it was of no use to directly refuse, but Sam sure as hell wouldn't make it easy for her mother, she decided to herself as they departed. The remains of the glass were forgotten on the floor.
Sam would later remember the place as a wardrobe or what looked to be one if not for how huge the room was, was full of pastel colors as if they had been thrown in randomly. The clothes of diverse shade, shapes and materials were dispersed in all ways, expensive dresses painting the closet was, at the very least, chaotic.
Sam could hardly keep standing by now, most of the day had been spent preparing her for the ridiculous event. An unnecessary one if you asked her. Her raven black hair was loose, brushing her collarbone, and a swan-necked bolero started below it with intricate cream coloured diagrams draping her shoulders and wrists. A dress of the same colour tightened at her modest chest, outlining a delicate waist, while the smooth fabric fell over narrow hips, flowing to the floor.
The attire annoyed her, impeding any free movements, and she'd hold a grudge against her mother for months for making her wear it. A secretive and vengeful grin appeared as she slowly pulled the pan of her dress up, exposing black combat boots. Oh, she sure will. Sam gave a glance at her mother standing behind her, an upsetting smile drawn on her lips, and making sure the older woman saw nothing, she let the fabric cover her veiled rebellion. With a frown she faced her mother, noticing a pair of pearl white gloves in her immaculate hands.
"I'm not that cold." She commented suspiciously, trying to decipher the woman. The smile on her mother's face quivered under her intense glare.
"It's just an accessory to go with the dress, dear." Responded the woman, dropping the pieces of silk into Sam's hands. Sam put on the gloves, they felt like a second skin covering her hands, and her eyes fixed on them. If she was being objective, the outfit was kind of pretty, especially since it masked the prosthetics. At the thought, Sam felt shame invade her, it was in those weak moments when she hated herself the most, giving into such dim emotions. Thankfully, her mother startled her, disrupting the dark trail of thought.
"It's already late dear, and we don't want to make your father wait, right?" Sam refused to answer and sighed, the event hadn't even started, yet she already felt the fatigue crawling under her flesh.
The hall of the Manson's was extraordinaire, luxury and wealth reflected in every corner of the mansion, flamboyant of glitter and chatter. Golden arches above, with immense windows letting the moonlight in; the maids and butlers rushed to keep up the entertainment and services. Sam hissed at the light coming from the chandeliers, or at least would, if not for the murderous glance her mother gave her. She missed annoying the woman. Her father had presented her to almost everyone at the event, and it was an experience she wouldn't like to relive in the near future if not ever again.
While the snobbish guests and their petty matters was of no interest for the bored young girl, she was well entertained at the thought of returning to her room, but decided to wait a little longer. When she was about to leave for the balcony; because there was always one in that kind of place, she noticed a black haired boy. He seemed a little younger than her, who was twenty, and he was walking in her direction. He wore specs, through which oversized eyes were reflected, masking a sparkle of intelligence. He spotted and studied her like she was some kind of entertainment. She instantly disliked him. He strolled up to her and started talking, and at the haughty words Sam felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
"I've heard you are that Manson girl, the one who surv-" He didn't have the chance to finish his sentence; the lucky devil . His sentence would have ended with her fist in his pallid face if not for someone interfering. In front of her, was the athletic back of a young man. Her core trembled at his profound voice.
"Hey Sidney, 'been a while! I've heard one of your friends callin' for you. Might wanna go, don't you?" Chuckled the mysterious man. Sidney's already pale face became ashen at the mention of his friends , Sam judged he might even faint. The boy took a step back and started fidgeting. She could feel his unease. Good , she thought.
"Oh, I-... Yes! Of course… I- Uhmm, I'll leave you with Manson-" The boy left before saying anything else, nearly running away. From what? She didn't care. Facing her enigmatic savior ; Sam silently giggled at the thought, but stumbled at the view as she turned to face him. His snow white hair was combed back, revealing intense green eyes, and the sight almost pained her physically. He was dressed in a black military uniform, an attire which wasn't exactly appropriate for this kind of party. They stared at each other, an eerie silence settling between them. Then, he spoke.
"If I knew you'd stare at me this way, I would have come sooner," After saying that the man dared to smirk . Sam hoped her burning cheeks didn't give her away, but knew it did as the smirk grew wider. "I see you feel quite warm here, so why not go outside?"
"What-" She started, but his hand resting on her lower back made her shut up. He lead the way to one of the balconies, the fresh wind of a mid-autumn night cooling her face. The view from above the active city was breathtaking, with all it's smooth chrome and white steel.
"So, how did I get your attention?" She asked, recovering the capacity to speak.
"I'm surprised, no thanks?" He asked, hand over his heart as if her words hurt him. "...I couldn't stop staring at the wonderful girl standing in front of me. Sidney's not a bad guy but he's-"
"I didn't need your help back there. I can take care of myself." She warned before he could end.
"Never said you did and I'm sure you can, but I'd rather stop someone before they get punched in the face." His reply took her by surprise.
"How did you know I was going to- You should stop smiling like that , or you might be the one hit."
"I might? Well, I'm sure that I'd rather like it, if you're the one doing the hitting." They stared at each other for a while and then bursted into laughter, the ringing sound echoing in the night.
"Name's Elliot." He finally said.
"You can call me Sam". She returned.
"Well Sam, if I had to be honest- And don't give me that look, I'd like to spend more time with you." She met his gaze, and Sam felt like drowning in the forest of his green eyes. Then, a small smile cracked her lips.
"I'd like it too."
The wind was stronger at the high altitude, so she descended to a dark alley, her boots sending pebbles ricocheting off the asphalt as she landed on the ground. The woman then whispered into the gadget on her wrist.
"Agent Grey here, outside sector eight, the target is out of sight." She waited for a reply.
It took a little while but the first chapter is here! I'll try to keep the update to one chapter per month or so.
Again, I want to thanks MiroirTwin for his help with this chapter, I'm quite lucky to have such a skilled editor.
As always he continually inspire me with his artwork (they are gorgeous, so I advice you to check his tumblr Miroirtwindp).
I hope you enjoyed your read, I'd appreciate if you could review.
Have a good holiday!