Please forgive me
The door opened and the officer came out. Tobias sat, motionless, in a corner, not even looking up. The guards, that had been waiting by the door out into the corridor, exchanged a few words with the officer and one returned to stand at his post while the other left the room.
"Clean up the mess in that room," said the officer to Tobias, flexing his fingers. "And return the girl to her cell. I'll be back in an hour. I expect it to be shining clean by then."
Tobias still didn't look up. He even kept his eyes shut. He heard footsteps as the officer stepped closer. Felt the warmth of his breath as he leaned over him.
"Did you hear me, birdbrain?!" the officer snapped.
Tobias nodded. The officer straightened. Then suddenly leaned back down, quick as a snake, took a hold of Tobias's neck and threw him halfway across the room.
Tobias landed on the floor, pain biting into him as he hit and slid along the stone floor, but still he crawled further away, hearing the ominous, familiar footsteps coming closer again.
Another hold of his neck. The officer pulled him up as if he weighed no more than a rag doll. Tobias raised his arms to protect his face, but they were slammed out of the way. He struggled to be let loose.
"STAY STILL!"
He obeyed instantly, and stopped struggling, now hanging from a grip around his throat that made it very hard to breath.
The officer glared at him. "If," he said, in a low, menacing voice. "If I find that she has been given any water… food… anything whatsoever… if I find out that she woke up too early and saw your ugly face… I'll lock you in a room in the other end of the building and beat her up until even you can hear her screaming. UNDERSTOOD?"
Tobias nodded. Or tried to, with the officer still holding him up by his throat.
"And I don't want to hear anything about you talking to her," the officer continued. "you clean the room, you carry her to her cell, and the guards will watch your every step. One wrong move, and…" his head leaned to the side with a cruel smile as he put Tobias down on the floor again. "you know what will happen."
"Yes, master," Tobias whispered, shaking; if not for any other reason it was because he needed to recapture his breath.
"I'm leaving now," the officer announced. "You have one hour."
"Thank you for teaching me respect, master," Tobias said in a low voice.
The guard that had left the room came back not long afterwards, carrying a bucket filled with water and a single sponge. He grinned evilly at Tobias.
"Good luck, birdbrain," he said.
Tobias took the bucket without a word and walked towards the room.
The floor was red with blood. The walls, halfway up to the ceiling, were stained with the same. He was not sure if they had been before or not; the Taxxon had not been known for his table manners, and the officer had sent a number of prisoners into that room - some alive, and also some dead.
Rachel was near a wall, battered and just as bloody as the floor.
His thoughts were drenched in a wave of panic. He dropped the bucket and it hit the floor with a clang, almost spilling out all the water.
She wasn't breathing!
It wasn't until he came closer that he realised that she was, in fact, still breathing. Weakly.
Tobias knew tears were running down his cheeks as he kneeled next to her. He felt clumsy as he dipped the sponge in the water, and dabbed her face carefully with it. His hands were shaking.
It didn't help much. And especially not since…
"Hey, you! The room, you moron, not the girl!"
Tobias did as he was told, knowing the consequences of refusing. He turned his attention to the floor. And the walls. And, with tears rolling down his cheeks, he began scrubbing.
Rachel woke in her cell. She thought she had experienced pain, but now her entire body was hurting so much that any other form of pain would have felt like a blessing. The usually agonizing throbbing in her hand was reduced to the tickle of a scratch in comparison with the burning, impossible-to-ignore agony that had taken its place.
Her hand was gone. Simply gone. Her arm was lined with scratches and cuts from Taxxon teeth up to her elbow. Halfway there a piece of cloth had been roughly tied around it to stop the bleeding - but it did not stop the pain.
She forced her eyes open. She was placed, almost gently, it seemed, on a blanket in the corner. The anti-morphing ray was in the opposite corner, and it was the first thing her gaze settled on.
She stared at that hated little gadget, and then suddenly… everything fell into place. She knew what she had to do. Would do. And how. Why had she not thought of it before?
Oh, yes. Tobias; she had not been able to leave without finding out what had happened to him.
But now, she would still have to take care of things herself. She couldn't count on help from Clara. And not from Tobias.
That coward! He'd been unhurt. Fed, and rested, by the looks of it. He should have fought! Why hadn't he fought? Didn't he want to help her? Didn't she matter to him?
She felt tears well up in her eyes and a tightness in her throat, but she pushed Tobias out of her mind and decided not to think about him again.
Forget anyone else. She was on her own.
Groaning from the stabbing pain of moving, she sat up, used the wall as support, and slowly, ever so slowly, got to her feet. She stood unsteadily, back to the wall, her remaining hand holding her head as if it might roll straight off her shoulders.
She stood there until she felt strong enough to move again. Her hand travelled to the torn mass that hung over her shoulder… her hair. She ripped with bloody fingers at the tassels, wishing she'd still had both hands, tears running down her cheeks, beginning to sob helplessly, until she found what she had been looking for.
That pitiful, small piece of porcelain, small enough to hold in her hand but too large to close her fist around without its edges cutting into skin. Heavy for its size; good. She snatched it free, and sank back to the floor in resignation, exhausted. She sat with the piece of porcelain in an open hand, her knees pulled up against her, her wounded arm around them, and forehead leaning down on them.
Again she waited for energy to return to her; waited for that sobbing to subside. When it had, she ripped a strap of cloth from her already ruined clothes and with her one hand - and a whole lot of trouble - tied it firmly around the piece of porcelain, creating a small but firm ball with a sharp edge where the porcelain stuck out. When she was finished, weighing the ball in her hand and deciding it would have to do, she looked up, glaring defiantly at the anti-morphing ray. She got to her feet - although it took some effort - raised her good hand, and threw the ball of cloth and porcelain at the hated object with all the force in her arm.
Somehow, it hit its target. The fragile gadget swayed on its flimsy support, but didn't fall. Rachel dragged herself forward, grabbed the clothball, and threw it again. She missed. But drew herself forwards, grabbed the ball and - jaws clenched tightly together - threw it again.
This time the delicate thing swayed away from the two supporting bars, and fell to shatter on the floor.
Rachel sank back to the floor and sat there, gathering herself, for another few minutes.
Then she began morphing.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note;
One more to go. Maybe two; I'm not sure. That depends on how upset you readers get at the ending.
Review if you want the next part up.
The door opened and the officer came out. Tobias sat, motionless, in a corner, not even looking up. The guards, that had been waiting by the door out into the corridor, exchanged a few words with the officer and one returned to stand at his post while the other left the room.
"Clean up the mess in that room," said the officer to Tobias, flexing his fingers. "And return the girl to her cell. I'll be back in an hour. I expect it to be shining clean by then."
Tobias still didn't look up. He even kept his eyes shut. He heard footsteps as the officer stepped closer. Felt the warmth of his breath as he leaned over him.
"Did you hear me, birdbrain?!" the officer snapped.
Tobias nodded. The officer straightened. Then suddenly leaned back down, quick as a snake, took a hold of Tobias's neck and threw him halfway across the room.
Tobias landed on the floor, pain biting into him as he hit and slid along the stone floor, but still he crawled further away, hearing the ominous, familiar footsteps coming closer again.
Another hold of his neck. The officer pulled him up as if he weighed no more than a rag doll. Tobias raised his arms to protect his face, but they were slammed out of the way. He struggled to be let loose.
"STAY STILL!"
He obeyed instantly, and stopped struggling, now hanging from a grip around his throat that made it very hard to breath.
The officer glared at him. "If," he said, in a low, menacing voice. "If I find that she has been given any water… food… anything whatsoever… if I find out that she woke up too early and saw your ugly face… I'll lock you in a room in the other end of the building and beat her up until even you can hear her screaming. UNDERSTOOD?"
Tobias nodded. Or tried to, with the officer still holding him up by his throat.
"And I don't want to hear anything about you talking to her," the officer continued. "you clean the room, you carry her to her cell, and the guards will watch your every step. One wrong move, and…" his head leaned to the side with a cruel smile as he put Tobias down on the floor again. "you know what will happen."
"Yes, master," Tobias whispered, shaking; if not for any other reason it was because he needed to recapture his breath.
"I'm leaving now," the officer announced. "You have one hour."
"Thank you for teaching me respect, master," Tobias said in a low voice.
The guard that had left the room came back not long afterwards, carrying a bucket filled with water and a single sponge. He grinned evilly at Tobias.
"Good luck, birdbrain," he said.
Tobias took the bucket without a word and walked towards the room.
The floor was red with blood. The walls, halfway up to the ceiling, were stained with the same. He was not sure if they had been before or not; the Taxxon had not been known for his table manners, and the officer had sent a number of prisoners into that room - some alive, and also some dead.
Rachel was near a wall, battered and just as bloody as the floor.
His thoughts were drenched in a wave of panic. He dropped the bucket and it hit the floor with a clang, almost spilling out all the water.
She wasn't breathing!
It wasn't until he came closer that he realised that she was, in fact, still breathing. Weakly.
Tobias knew tears were running down his cheeks as he kneeled next to her. He felt clumsy as he dipped the sponge in the water, and dabbed her face carefully with it. His hands were shaking.
It didn't help much. And especially not since…
"Hey, you! The room, you moron, not the girl!"
Tobias did as he was told, knowing the consequences of refusing. He turned his attention to the floor. And the walls. And, with tears rolling down his cheeks, he began scrubbing.
Rachel woke in her cell. She thought she had experienced pain, but now her entire body was hurting so much that any other form of pain would have felt like a blessing. The usually agonizing throbbing in her hand was reduced to the tickle of a scratch in comparison with the burning, impossible-to-ignore agony that had taken its place.
Her hand was gone. Simply gone. Her arm was lined with scratches and cuts from Taxxon teeth up to her elbow. Halfway there a piece of cloth had been roughly tied around it to stop the bleeding - but it did not stop the pain.
She forced her eyes open. She was placed, almost gently, it seemed, on a blanket in the corner. The anti-morphing ray was in the opposite corner, and it was the first thing her gaze settled on.
She stared at that hated little gadget, and then suddenly… everything fell into place. She knew what she had to do. Would do. And how. Why had she not thought of it before?
Oh, yes. Tobias; she had not been able to leave without finding out what had happened to him.
But now, she would still have to take care of things herself. She couldn't count on help from Clara. And not from Tobias.
That coward! He'd been unhurt. Fed, and rested, by the looks of it. He should have fought! Why hadn't he fought? Didn't he want to help her? Didn't she matter to him?
She felt tears well up in her eyes and a tightness in her throat, but she pushed Tobias out of her mind and decided not to think about him again.
Forget anyone else. She was on her own.
Groaning from the stabbing pain of moving, she sat up, used the wall as support, and slowly, ever so slowly, got to her feet. She stood unsteadily, back to the wall, her remaining hand holding her head as if it might roll straight off her shoulders.
She stood there until she felt strong enough to move again. Her hand travelled to the torn mass that hung over her shoulder… her hair. She ripped with bloody fingers at the tassels, wishing she'd still had both hands, tears running down her cheeks, beginning to sob helplessly, until she found what she had been looking for.
That pitiful, small piece of porcelain, small enough to hold in her hand but too large to close her fist around without its edges cutting into skin. Heavy for its size; good. She snatched it free, and sank back to the floor in resignation, exhausted. She sat with the piece of porcelain in an open hand, her knees pulled up against her, her wounded arm around them, and forehead leaning down on them.
Again she waited for energy to return to her; waited for that sobbing to subside. When it had, she ripped a strap of cloth from her already ruined clothes and with her one hand - and a whole lot of trouble - tied it firmly around the piece of porcelain, creating a small but firm ball with a sharp edge where the porcelain stuck out. When she was finished, weighing the ball in her hand and deciding it would have to do, she looked up, glaring defiantly at the anti-morphing ray. She got to her feet - although it took some effort - raised her good hand, and threw the ball of cloth and porcelain at the hated object with all the force in her arm.
Somehow, it hit its target. The fragile gadget swayed on its flimsy support, but didn't fall. Rachel dragged herself forward, grabbed the clothball, and threw it again. She missed. But drew herself forwards, grabbed the ball and - jaws clenched tightly together - threw it again.
This time the delicate thing swayed away from the two supporting bars, and fell to shatter on the floor.
Rachel sank back to the floor and sat there, gathering herself, for another few minutes.
Then she began morphing.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note;
One more to go. Maybe two; I'm not sure. That depends on how upset you readers get at the ending.
Review if you want the next part up.