Chapter Three

Ok, you are warned once again. This chapter might even be worse then the last. Enjoy :)

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I have no idea when night starts and day ends. I have no coherent thoughts about my life before this. Sometimes I remember the good days. The days when Anna was alive and well, and playtime would last for hours. Or when my mother would laugh and tell me stories of a time when my father had been in love with her. Oh how I love to hate those memories. And as peculiar as it seems, the awful memories are the ones I keep closest to home. They remind me that even before Slash took me away, evil was always present. It was in the soul of my father and in the terrifying moments that we would be informed of an attack on the castle. We would cower in a room far below the walls of the castle. We would cower in fear of evils that wouldn't touch us those days.

But they would reach us eventually.

Mostly, though, I think about night turning into day. I miss the northern lights and the gorgeous sunrises and sunsets viewed through the stained glass windows of the castle. I remember the eclipsed shadows cast throughout my room. It is perhaps the only thing i miss of that life. Aside, of course, from the missing pieces of my family. Anna and my mother.

I try to force them out of my mind. I try to force myself to forget them, but they won't go away. They are the stars in my darkest nightmares and in my best dreams. I wonder where we would be if they hadn't died. Would we still be a family? Or were we always destined to be nothing more then lost souls in our castle? Only called a memory. Most often, I remember the words my mother said to me. All those wise words that meant the world to me before, and nothing to me now.

All you have is your heart, snowflake, don't let anyone take it from you.

Was your heart worth more than your life mother?

Slash's visits are the only moments of time I receive. When he enters, moonlight or sunlight is cast upon the floor and I know more time has passed. But these moments pass me by swiftly as the red knife wielded by my keeper swings into my view. My screams are not as loud anymore, my throat has been used ragged, but still the sky, night or day, is aware of this horrible arrangement.

There are markings on the walls. Chalk or some sort of other substance that has tallied days. These marks are not my own. And though Ive no idea how this other person managed to keep track of days, I envy her, 'for I gave up before I could even try.

I found in the early days that the boredom alone is maddening. My mind drove me mad, and often I would use my powers as something to occupy me with. I learned soon enough not to do this. So I taught myself to sit still for hours on end. I would focus on the cracks in the floor and the walls, counting each one, sometimes just staring at them. Sometimes I would count my breathes, or simply just stare off into space as if I could make time speed up with the sheer power of mind over matter.

I tend to wander into my thoughts, and the worst nights are when my mind takes me into darkness, and my dreams take me into nightmares and often I wake up screaming, drenched from head to toe in some sort of weird ice sweat that only I seem capable of.

My bed is a pitiful thing, but I spend most of my time in it. Often, Slash will leave our sessions with me unconscious on the floor. Or once, he left me on the steel table for what felt like days, not releasing me until the next time that he came around. Blood stains almost every inch of the floor, and frost non of it. To my fathers credit, Slashs' methods have worked, my powers don't dare show themselves.

Slash's last visit informed me of my greatest fear, and yet my highest hopes. The arrival of my father would mean one of two things. Either he would grant Slash full control over what happens to me, as Im sure Slash has recommended, or he will see the torture that I have endured, and the small part of him that still recognizes me as his daughter will release me from this hell.

I have no idea what to expect.

Now it is dark once again. The candle that Slash left me has burned out completely. With every creak in the floor my mind convinces me of some danger, sending me into shivering fits. But time and time again, it is nothing but that, my mind.

The steel table against my back feels cold against my skin. I can feel my blood, colder then mosts, dripping down my stomach, down my legs, everywhere. Slash left his knives next to me, maybe to make me fear him more, but I cannot feel anything over pain right now. Once again, a candle burns softly in the corner. Once again, I am alone. This night feels worse then most.

This night feels like hopelessness.

I know I deserve it. I really do. But that doesn't make it much easier to bear. It just keeps me from going mad. The pain makes me remember the pain Ive caused my sister, my mother, even Slash, deserving as he might be. I have to let it burn. I have to let it bleed. I have to let it take everything from me. Only then will I be safe, and not a danger to others.

Once, Slash brought a mirror into the cell. It was a tall, dangerous looking thing. All jagged edges, lacking a frame. He left in in over night. But he had to take it out the next day because I had tried to kill myself with the glass, despite his many warnings not to harm myself. But it was too late, I had seen myself. The image would be forever engraved in my mind. I had seen my face, bloodied and brown, too thin, too pale, but my face was the part most unharmed. I had stripped myself bare, and stood in front of the mirror.

This is what a monster looks like.

I had drilled that in my head. Committed my appearance into my mind. A monster. And I had looked like a monster. My arms were sticks, connected simply by muscles that did nothing to make them look healthy. My upper arms were scarlet with bruises, and the insides of my wrists covered in suicide attempts. Covered in blood. My legs looked like those of a bird. I thought they might snap. Truly. The gap between my thighs was at least four inches, and covered all the way down in scars. The skin of my stomach curved inward between my pronounced hip bones, which jutted out awkwardly. My collar bones stuck out and I had to look away. After a minute, I forced myself to look again. To see what I was. A monster. I drilled it into my head for hours and hours, and I know that I will never forget it.

Soon after that I had shattered the mirror, used the glass for awful things. Nightmarish things. Broken things. I don't regret them.

Slash doesn't mind bloody hands. I think he likes them. He likes power. He loves it when I cower in the corner, struggle in the cuffs he locks me in. He loves my screams, my pleads, as he cuts me open like some sort of animal. His madness does not escape me.

He visits most often in the night. Im not sure why. But he mostly comes when its dark outside. Once, he flipped me onto my stomach and tied me to the table. Seeing his smile while he did his work was horrifying, but it was nothing compared to not being able to see him, only hear him. I could hear his wheezing breath, the clanking of metal as he searched for the right tool.

I don't know what he chose. I don't. I don't want to. I recall the memory painfully, wishing it could be forgotten.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god." I whisper, clamping my eyes shut. Ignoring the shallow beating of the pain in my chest. Tears scar my cheeks. I shouldn't beg, it never works, but I do anyways. I scream and I struggle, and I fight him with all I have. It will never be enough. I know that now, but back then, I thought he might listen if I made his ears bleed the way he made me bleed. When the blade touches my skin, desperation takes hold. It always does.

"Your sick!" I spit, hoping to distract him. My body tenses, waiting for a whipping or a beating. But nothing comes. I imagine a thoughtful expression on his face. Sometimes he looks human in those silent moments. But I fail to feel compassion for him as he fails to see it for me. Im sure he's a fraud, just some sleepy man dying to get his hands on an innocent little girl. Back then he might have been able to save himself. But now, I know, necromancer or not, that he is insane.

"Aren't we all?" I struggle and drown in tears while he carves into me. He's carving a design. I had realized in horror. I am his painting, my back his canvas, my blood the paint. He painted me red wings with his jagged brush. I don't know why he chose wings, folded up onto my back like an angels. I do know that I will never be the angel they wish me to be. But sometimes I trace them with my fingers and imagine that they are real.

I imagine these wings can fly.

I am sitting against the wall. My hands aching from having to hang in cuffs so long. This time I haven't struggled. I know the metal won't break just as I know that I don't have the strength to break them anymore, or the resolve, to be honest. Suddenly, I hear the neighing of a horse. Immediately I know that someone else is hear, because not once have I ever heard the grey horse of Slashs' ever make any noise, lest it be punished brutally. The pounding of my heart cannot be identified as fear or hope, and I do not have time to identify it, because the door opens to my cell, and I am blinded by sunlight.

I immediately turn away.

When Slash would enter, he would open the door only a slight few inches and fit his bony frame through easily, the sun barely casting light on the floor. This is different, and I cannot look at it for several minutes. When I finally manage, I am sent into a blinking fury, trying to adjust to the sunlight being filtered through the trees. The air that hits me is unexpectedly cold, and though there isn't snow on the ground, something in me shifts, like the winter is shifting. There are two figures in the doorway. One, I cannot see except for a blurry outline. I recognize the shape immediately as my father. He has put on weight, but nothing else has changed. His stance is tall and proud, he stands in front of Slash, who now has re adopted his hunched over stance.

They disgust me so entirely that I feel bile rising in my throat.

"Well don't you look pitiful, Elsa." My father says, stepping into the room farther, and mercifully, Slash shuts the door a tiny bit, but not enough to need a candle. His voice has not changed either, it is cold, and unfeeling. Tasteless. Very different from the blood I still taste in my mouth.

I feel an apology rising to my tongue. I tamp it down. Certainly he would only frown more if I did so. I keep my eyes down turned, and say nothing.

"No hello for your father?" He asks, and steps closer. He wrinkles his nose at the smell and avoids the puddles of blood as best he can. I swallow.

He lifts his boot off the ground and nudges me with it. Careful not get to close. As if I might lash out like some feral dog.

I whimper at the pain it sends shooting up my body. My father turns around to look at Slash. Already losing interest in my appearance.

"Have you fixed her?" He asks, as if Im one of his stallions who refused to bend to his will. And like a stallion, he will love me more when I am broken. I am, aren't I?

Faceless, heartless in the dark, Slash shakes his head. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, only fear.

"Im afraid, your majesty, she refuses to listen." What is he talking about? "I will need to use more... drastic measures, your majesty." His words are jumpy and his movements are sharp as he moves closer to my father. He makes sure to keep his back hunched so he doesn't have to look down upon a king.

I inch away, trying to disappear into the wall. They both notice.

"She has made some progress, yes?" He seems empowered from my cowardice, as if he draws strength from it. Him and Slash aren't so different after all.

"Most certainly, your highness, but she will rebel if you take her back to the castle yet." His voice betrays him, he is so clearly lying, and I open my mouth to say as much, but the look he gives me stops me. I clamp my mouth shut as my eyes flash to the knives hanging above me, to the scars on my legs and the bloodied chains that bind me. I will say nothing. Coward. My mind whispers, accuses, and I shrink from it too. " I ask you for complete control of her lessons, your majesty." He says, and horrible pictures flash across my mind. Not a word.

"Complete control?" The king says these words as if they taste good on his tongue. Every last ounce of hope I had had for my father flew out the nonexistent window. He loves my pain, wishes he could be inflicting it, perhaps. The walls seem to be closing in on me.

"At your command, your highness." Slash bows for effect, and flinches as the knives concealed in his robes bite into his skin. I flinch along with him, because unlike me, those knives will never draw his blood.

"You know Elsa," My father says. Eyes up and down, liking what they see." You've grown into quite the young woman."

The room chills at his words. Horror and warnings fly into my head. I will not be saved. I cannot be saved.

"Im sorry, Dmitri," The king continues," but I need my daughter to be... untouched for her arrangement." He says, I think, just this once, that I do not completely hate my father.

"Your majesty?" Slash questions, confused.

"Perhaps we should talk elsewhere," The king glances around the room and then looks upon me in discontent and I see boredom in his inhumane eyes. Slash nods and the both of them shuffle out. It occurs to me that this is the first visit Slash has payed me without injuring me in some way. Something about it disturbs me, like something has shifted. For better or for worse?

My fathers visit has left me feeling strangely empty. Something about the way he forced me away left a question in my mind. Made it seem unreal, somehow. The events since then should have been enough to prove that this was in fact real, that this was in fact my fathers doing. But he hadn't said that, and I had hoped, naively, stupidly, that maybe he hadn't been aware of the evil he had sent his daughter to be subject to. And now that he had looked upon my in this state, had seen what had been done to me, it made every aspect of it real. Painfully, undeniably real. My father knew, but he didn't care.

That night brought no sleep. My eyelids were heavy and my body was trembling from exhaustion and lack of food and water, but my body refused to fade into oblivion. No candle had been left this time, and the chamber was completely pitch black. The creaking and cracking made me flinch, and once I could have sworn the door opened, but nothing happened. I tried to lay down, but the chains binding my hands would not allow me to do so without raising my hands above my head. Outside, rain pitter patters on the roof and expectantly, my loneliness seems to be the weight of the world on my shoulders. I can recall the pain of the knives piercing my skin over and over and over again, my screams piercing the night, tortured enough to draw blood. I know that purity is needed for marriage, but my father wouldn't marry me off. How could he? There isn't an inch of my body unscarred, unbruised, or unbroken. Not an inch of my mind untouched by darkness. No one would want me.

That night, when I finally fell asleep, I ran away in my dreams.

When I woke up, I still felt gone.

The day promised nothing special. To Anna, that was a challenge. Nothing more then an obstacle getting in her way. She knew she could take it She knew she could make this day one that she would remember forever. In Annas life, she had known pain. The pain of her fathers hits, the pain of her mothers death, loneliness, but over time, all of those had faded into a dull throb in the back of her heart. A place where she knew something was missing, but knew not what it was. Though Anna's heart was so big that she rarely noticed.

It was on these days, sunny, but cold and desolate that she felt those thoughts start to creep in. So Anna occupied herself. Movement was one thing Anna had to have. Small rooms, rainy days, she didn't like those. So when the fun wouldn't find her, she would find it.

Today was golden. Her father was leaving on some one day journey shortly. The servants milled about, but they were discreet. Today was perfect. Anna could feel it in the air that something was going to change. Her heart? She hoped. True love was something Anna had always wanted. Always dreamed of. Her night in shinning armor, her prince in gold and robes, her stable boy in grimy dirt, Anna didn't care. So when she learned of her fathers departure, she decided she would follow him.

This was a challenge. Anna reminded herself. Finding true love had taken seventeen years already. How much longer must she be forced to look? Surely her father would be meeting one hansom young man or another. And it was this hope that vaulted Anna through the hallways looking for her father.

"Father?" She called out, stopping in the great hall. She was about to run by when she heard a reply.

"Anna, is that you?"

"Its me!" She called, running back and into the large room. The walls were lined with paintings of her mother, or just her, or them as a family. A family. Anna cherished the memories she carried of her mother, but they caused so much pain, that she preferred not to enter this room. She ignored it though, stepping back to fuss over her fathers buttons, which were characteristically disheveled. He smiled stiffly in the way the princess was used to. He was distant, cold, and only Anna seemed to be able to crack his shell a little.

"Do you have to go?" She whined, putting on her most innocent child face. He fixed her with a stern look, but said nothing about it.

"I won't be gone long. Don't stay up though, honey, a princess requires her sleep." He patted her shoulder and turned. Anna said nothing. Just bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet.

"Whats gotten you all excited, I wonder," The head maid, Gurda, said, a stack of folded blankets covered her face, but Anna could see the motherly disapproval without actually seeing the maids face.

"Nothing too bad," Anna said, moving to follow her father.

"Don't get yourself in trouble, dearie."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Anna said, innocent once again. The moment she turned the corner, the mask was gone. Her father had been hiding things much too long, and Anna wanted to know what they were. She had to.

Anna followed her father through the woods. Winding farther and farther from any path the princess had ever stumbled upon. Suddenly, Anna had the faintest revelation that she wouldn't lay eyes on any princes today, hansom or otherwise. And though there was disappointment, Anna didn't care, her interests were elsewhere. More certain. Somehow Anna knew that this was a family affair, somehow, she just knew.

A man met her father at the edge of a darker part of the forest. He wore a black robe, surrounded by fog, she could feel the evil of his presence almost immediately. Her interest peaked. She could not hear there voices, but she followed them, watching their movements. Acquainted, but not friendly. On the same terms perhaps?

They walked to a small clearing. In it lies a small dilapidated house. It has several locks on the door. Across from it, a horse with lash marks and downturned eyes stands tied to a tree. A sled and many other odd things surround him. In the distance she can see a small, castle like, house. She feels fear suddenly, and the overwhelming need to turn and run chokes her. She doesn't move. Anna positions herself at the side of the house, not really feeling the need to press herself up against the wall, but doing it anyways. Something about the situation seemed off to her.

Something creaks. Anna jumps in her green, forest green, consequentially, dress.

She couldn't hear their voices, couldn't make out words. And by the end of their conversation, only one thing stuck with her. A name.

"Elsa." Anna didn't realize she'd said it aloud until she saw the two of them step away from the door and look around. Anna covered her mouth despite herself and backed away. Neither of them seemed to have heard her. Outside, as they spoke, Anna could hear them. She tried to concentrate, but as she thought about that name, a violent pain seized her. It pressed Anna back against the wall and she clutched her head.

"Arrangement?" The dark man said. He might as well have been shouting into Anna's ear.

"I have arranged for Elsa to be married to a prince of a neighboring kingdom. Trishold." She didn't dare peek around the corner. But Anna could tell, through hazy pains, from the silence, that tension was building.

"She's not ready." The hunched over man said after the silence.

"She's not going anywhere yet, Dmitri, the marriage won't be occurring until next March. She will leave in January."

"But, your majesty, its October." The dark man, Dmitri, seemed disinclined to acquiesce the kings wishes. Maybe even a little desperate.

"And she better be ready by then, or both of you will pay." The words of the king struck Anna. The fierceness, the emptiness of the words that still left no questions as to whether or not his words would ring true. Anna wondered who this girl could be. A maid? What could a maid have gotten herself into that would cause this. And why wouldn't she just be beheaded. Unless he cared for her, Anna thought, too much to kill. She shook her head, that was unlikely. But if non of these were true. Then who was she?

"Your majesty-" Dmitri began, he seemed to hesitate, change his mind," Then I will need to be permitted to do everything possible to control her."

The king hesitated not one second," You may have your way with her." Anna could imagine a smile growing on the mans face as the king turned away," Your majesty, what about her scars, does her fiancé know about those." He said fiance as if he didn't like the word much.

"He is desperate. That won't be a problem. What will is the magic, make sure she is never able to use it again. I don't care how you do it." Annas mind was full of horrified images and confusion.

"You do not care what happens to her then?" Dmitri says, maybe looking for any doubt, protecting himself," She is your daughter after all."

The king turned fiercely, and the man in black shrunk," I feel nothing for her. The minute she was born I knew what she was. An abomination, a monster. She needed to be killed, but Aidya would not allow it. She is the source of every rift in this family. She needs to be controlled, or I will kill her. And then I will kill you."

The king handed the man a long red dress folded neatly and turned around. Annas shock was almost as much as her anger. I have a sister?

I have a sister.

Slash came back. I knew he would, but I still hoped he'd just leave me. Half starved, half bled out, half dead. It would be simpler that way. But he came back. His face seemed somehow darker. He seemed, distracted as he looked at the knives, as if they wouldn't satisfy him today. Fear that runs deeper then your bones can still be called fear, but it feels like something else, something more. It feels like madness. My fear in this moment is madness. He shuts the door behind him, and the look he gives me is evil, but it is calm. He knows what he's going to do. But what is it that he will do?

"You're to be married in a couple months, Elsa." He says, pulling all the knives out of his cloak. The amount concealed in there is dizzying. I say nothing, I am hardly able to be surprised after so much betrayal. Its not like I care. I can't even bring myself to be excited to get out of this place. Excitement does not come easily to me anymore.

"This man is very generous to be taking you in," He continues, he steps closer to me. I cannot move farther from him. He steps close to me, and as I tense, he drops a key into my cuffs, and unlocks them. Before my arms fall limply to the ground, he grabs them and keeps them pinned above my head.

"What are you-" I begin in a terrified whisper. He shushes me and keeps my arms above my head. He leans down, his nose rubbing my neck. I whimper, and I feel a smile on my skin. His insanity is indescribable. I begin to struggle, kicking out.

He does not move an inch," Do. Not. Move." He says, and his voice contains more venom then I can believe. His lips brush my skin and I feel bile rising in my throat. I swallow it down and fall limp. Scared out of my skin, but frozen in place.

"I am the only one who will ever love you, my dear." He says, and he breaths in as if he likes the blood, sweat, tears, dirt, as long as they cling to my skin. His words bring tears stinging to my eyes. I blink them back furiously. Those words should mean nothing to me. But somehow, they mean everything. My heart refuses to calm down, and for the first time, I realize what he wants.

"No." I say, plead," Please, don't do this. Slash, please." I have never once said his name, not once since I arrived here. His head snaps up and he looks me in the eyes. I can see it there. The preciseness of his madness. The pull of his evil. And I see that he loves me. He loves me in some sick, twisted way that only Slash would be able to justify.

"Undress yourself," He says, his breath is hot on my face, fervent, his eyes caress me, and the rancid smell of it makes me want to gag. I resist, not knowing what will make him break. I shake me head. Looking away, I remember all he has done to me, all the pain and suffering, everything, and suddenly I am desperate to break away from him. This disgusting, vile, horrible creature. I begin to struggle violently. Kicking and biting at his skin. And I feel something break, something bend. And I see white in the corner of my vision. The ice spreading on the walls is the last straw.

The door is unlocked, I can get away. If he catches me, after I just used my powers, God knows what would happen. Slash breaks the hold for two seconds, but its enough, I dart out from under him and towards the doors. His long fingers rap around my ankle, and pull me to the ground. I kick and scream, but he won't release me. Suddenly, he is on top of me, my brown pants are gone, and Slash is smiling horribly.

Anna has to confront her father, and scurrying to the castle to beat him back, she knows that. A sister? The thought keeps astounding her, horrifying her, confusing her. A head ache comes every time Anna thinks about the strange girl. The girl who is her sister, yet who Anna has never seen. Unknowingly, Anna has found her greatest challenge yet.

Ok. I might have lied. There is one more chapter that will have some... icky substance, but not to worry, Im done after that. I promise. And I just wanted to let you guys know that I have a rather sloppy outline planned for this story, but Im mostly going off my gut. Anything I think will fit, I put in. And Also, many of the quotes in these chapters are inspired by songs. So... I love music, if you have good songs with interesting lyrics, I might just put a version of it in the story. As always, thanks for reading.

-Kennedy