A/N: Hey, part 3 already! This one is Ella-centric, and about her time after her capture in The Fall of Five. Poor Ella. I hope things get better for her in the last book. Thanks to Tactum Ignis and mysteriousperson for reviewing! R&R&Enjoy please! – Candy888
Darkness
The nightmare is over. When I open my eyes, there's nothing but darkness.
You used to love staring at the sky. Compelling, fascinating; the darker it got, the more brightly it shone. The stars glowing with no purpose but to simply cast away some of the darkness.
Now you're in an opposing position. Not gazing into the heavens, head tilted up, but looking down, at one of the many formations present in an infinity. Crayton had once told you about the stars, that by the time my eyes registered their hopeful light, the star had become another darkness. Now, as you wait in the emptiness, it crosses your mind that perhaps you too will become a star. Maybe by the time the others discover where you have been taken, you will have already joined the darkness.
xX-Xx
But from darkness, comes light. Maybe you will have gone to that darkness, but you will always remember the light. Always recall the times spent with the stars of your own life.
I won't ever let anyone hurt you, El.
You were just supposed to be a number. No, not even that. You were never supposed to be alive. Just a girl shipped off to an unknown planet by her twisted father. Yet, that wasn't the end of your story. Crayton took care of you, raised you like his own child. Nurtured, helped and protected you. He made you who you are today; Ella, Number 10.
We're a team, Ella. And team members don't give up on each other.
Marina. Knowing nothing about you, she took you under her wing. Gave you protection and a home when Crayton couldn't. When the sisters came to punish you, she tried to take the blow instead. She stood firm on the battlefield, holding her own against them. Healed all of you, physically and mentally. A calm point on a raging sea.
Yet even she couldn't protect you against your nightmares, couldn't begin to comprehend your fears.
You've got fond dreams, kid.
To you, it all seemed lost when the dreams started coming. Pouring in relentlessly, driving you past the brink of insanity. They tried to protect you, but it wasn't what you wanted. You wanted to get stronger, to fight the pain yourself. That's why he helped you. He helped you to fight, to stand up for yourself. And you knew that he understood your pain. Because beneath his tough exterior, you knew he was hurting more than yourself.
So even if you do descend into the darkness, you will always keep striving towards the light.
xX-Xx
He wants things to be just like in my nightmare.
He smiles at you, a cruelly twisted smile, the one of a man malicious enough to desecrate his entire race without a single care in the world.
On the exterior, you dine like a princess. Clad in a long black gown, hands pale and flawless, and your face an emotionless mask. Your brown hair is pulled up into an elegant at the twist at the nape of your neck. The two of you sit at either end of the long table, dining on the finest meat The Anubis has to offer.
However, on the inside, you are trembling. In fear or hatred, you don't know which. The slab of meat on your plate more closely resembles an uncooked slug oozing on your plate, rather than anything remotely edible. Underneath your dress, battle scars proudly manifest over your skin, symbols of how you had fought against this man and everything he had done to you and your kind.
The dress itself that you wear is a symbol of what he has done to you. Invaded and tortured your mind, fed you overtly disturbingly realistic images of a future. A future where the Earth had been demolished, and you sat on a throne next to him, not saying a word as the last remainder of your friends were executed before your eyes. And as you had held your head high in that throne, unable to move a single muscle in your body, the dress you were in is akin to the one you have on your skin now. The same itchy black material you try to restrain yourself from tearing off.
He can sense your discomfort. It shows in his eyes, the seemingly endless black orbs that tear into your soul, stripping you of everything you once had.
He attempts to exchange pleasantries with you, keeping up the pretense of a kind and benevolent ruler, despite the fact that you both know he is the opposite of that.
His entire body is revolting, his bulbous head with his malevolent leer, teeth filed down to a deadly point. Countless medals decorate his person, each detailing his accomplishments of defiling and decimating billions of innocent people.
Gesturing to the food, he invites you to take a bite of the oh so delicious meal, all the while explaining the finer reasons of his grand plan.
xX-Xx
You're a monster. I will never not hate you.
You talk back instead, replying I'm not hungry, crossing your arms petulantly and refusing to take a bit of whatever that thing is.
You would rather die than submit to him, and judging by the smug look on his face, this fact doesn't worry him in the slightest.
Then, determined to get his self-satisfied smirk to falter, you go so far as to insult Setrakus Ra, great Mogadorian ruler and destroyer of your people right to his face.
How am I supposed to eat with your nasty face right there, you say.
A flash of anger sparks in his eyes and across his expression, his confident façade slipping. But, instead of attacking you as you had expected, he pulls out his infamous cane, the red eye swirling and causing his appearance to change to that of someone more aesthetically pleasing.
You don't let that deter you, even if it means you have to take a bite of your 'meal.' Because you will never, ever, stop despising him.
The meat lodges in your throat, before disintegrating and slipping down in a manner similar to sawdust. You grimace slightly, but don't let it show.
After all, you can keep up an act just as well as anyone else.
xX-Xx
Just like them, we are linked.
You scream in pain as the scar tears into your flesh, causing it to bubble and burst along its edges. The red energy sears into your skin, burning straight through the wretched dress.
All the while, he stands above you, smiling beatifically. Eyes cynical and hard, as he watches you writhe on the frozen floor in pain.
Eventually, somehow, it is finally over. A ring of pink scar tissue remains wrapped around your ankle, a constant reminder of your torture.
You look over at him, and stare in horror. For on his leg is an identical scar, pant leg burned away to reveal it.
Now, he says, vindictive leer on his face once more, just like them, we are linked.
xX-Xx