Chapter 3:Awakening
*****I do skip parts of the story. They will show up as flashbacks in later scenes*****
I don't own Powerpuff Girls, sadly. I own pie, if you would like a slice
The petite girl sat up, noting the long thin scratches upon her body. Her bed was covered in a reddish-brown crust. She stared blankly at the torn sheets, uncomprehending, until she tenatively sniffed the air. The reek of blood sent her head spinning, and dizzily, she made her way into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, trying to clean the scent off herself. When that proved worthless, she stripped down and started the shower. Icy water drummed against her heated flesh, cooling her skin, calming her. A bottle of shampoo rested on a shelf. she popped the top open, squeezing a small amount into her hand. Rubbing the shampoo into her hair, she tried to recall her memories of times before today. Screaming. She pushed harder. Begging. Her body stiffened, though her hands continued to rinse the shampoo from her hair. She was in a room with a man, one who begged for mercy. A tiny, impish smile curled her lips as she remembered the words he had begged. "Stop please, I'm begging you," He had wailed, flinging himself to the ground at her feet. "I'll do anything!" What she hadn't remembered was the reason of which she had done the cruel deed. Her hands, now done rinsing the shampoo, worked on the conditioner. The scent was cinnamon and strawberries, which removed the last traces of the scent of blood from her body. After a couple of minutes simply enjoying the icy water running down her skin, she got out. A stark white towel sat on a bar. Toweling herself dry, she found a hairbrush and comb, then proceeding to detangle the mess that was her hair. A sharp rap at the door made the redhead jump. Dressing in the first things she found, a black t-shirt and blue jeans, she went to answer the door.
A green skinned teen was at the door. The first thing she noticed was that his jacket was orange. A pair of worn, semi-torn jeans hung on narrow hips. A black shirt lay underneath the vibrant jacket. Black-tinted shades covered his face. What she noticed most was his hair. Black, oily, and dull. The color reflected nothing. She didn't realize that she was staring until he snapped his fingers at her.
"Yoo-hoo, hello, anybody there?" He asked, waving a ring-laden hand in front of her face. She blinked, then blushed in embarrassment. Stammering an apology, she looked curiously at him. "What?"
"Ha...Have we met?" The girl finally asked, timidly. The green boy hid his surprise, instead relying on his instructions.
"No." The sharp rebuke made her flinch, almost reflexively. "Come with me." Now entirely confused, the child hurried after the teenager. Several hallways down, the pair stopped at a large, mahogany door, ornately carved with images of humans, humans in pain. Soft energy glowed at her fingertips as she brushed the smooth, worn surface, whose polish had peeled off with age. The boy pushed the door open a crack, then shoved her inside. A shriek passed her lips as she struggled to get on the other end of the doorway. The opening closed, entombing her in darkness. She froze. A laugh echoed through the long (or so she guessed) hallway. A voice, cold as ice, old as time, fearsome as fear itself, called to her.
"Play with me child, And I'll let you out. If not, well, good luck getting out on your own." The cruel, merciless voice reverbrated, echoing around the walls. A small memory popped into her mind.
"Please, she's only a child!" A man begged, out of sight. It was an effort to hear the conversation at all, back then "No. She is a child, but she is my child. She will undergo the test when she recovers." That cruel voice, softened slightly with tenderness "Are you sure she can handle your game?" The man asked, worried. "She has done so once and she can do so again."
The girl straightened, confidence brimming in her eyes.
"I'm game."
Professor Utonium straightened the last of Blossom's bedroom. It looked just as it had earlier that week, clean and fresh. He looked sadly around the pink themed room, a tear sliding down his cheek. He left, with a whisper in the air, the tear making the journey to the oak wood below.
"Come home soon..." He closed the door, the only trace of him the crystalliane teardrop on the floor, sparkling like the many tears that would be wept in the future.
