Calm.
Empty drifting over void plains of consciousness.
There was such peace here. In this place, where nothing had form or voice.
Just silent swirls of darkness, enveloping everything into a silent embrace.
There was no sensation, just the numbing calm of stillness.
No thought, no physical movement, no sound.
It was like witnessing the beginning of everything, afloat in the chaos of creation, where there were no boundaries, no limitations.
Only creation took place here.
It was only the beginning, so how could it end with death if there has yet to be life?
Death.
A pang of echoed agony rippled throughout the tranquil darkness in an explosion of red.
Feeling.
It was returning.
As was her form.
A hand trembled before her, reaching out to touch the aggressive crimson intruder, the first form other than herself here.
It bubbled and screeched.
Sound.
It convulsed on itself and tore through everything around it, spilling over into the darkness and tainting it with colour. Like a stain.
But it didn't see her, or it didn't seem to. It just shred its way, taking over the beauty of the stillness, animating it violently, spreading its evil tendrils of smoke, polluting all it touched.
Her hand was still outstretched, and feeling was getting stronger within her.
Pain.
Sorrow.
And anger.
Is that what the red brought with it?
Or is that what the red left behind in its wake of destruction?
Sound.
A soft whimper left her lips, her form complete, and air forced its way through them. she was aware of herself now, chestnut hair wisped into her line of view, and her fingers came towards her to touch it.
She was horrified. She was real again.
A shriek whirred in her ears, the redness elevating and twisting fiercely, until there was only red.
Red and her.
She reached out again, with both hands, and felt the cold chill of the redness caressing her fingers lovingly.
It started to engulf her too.
Slowly creeping up her arms and coiling devious tendrils around her limbs, ensnaring her in its sadistic dance of dominance.
Soon there would only be red.
This thought brought out another feeling, a newer emotion.
Fear.
She had never felt fear before, not as potent as this.
She began to relax, allowing the overpowering locks of malevolence to slowly devour her.
It was her fate.
If the beautiful birth of creation couldn't resist this wickedness, how could she?
A mere 16 year old girl, a human, out in space with creatures she had never heard of who could probably crush her small spirit from her fragile bones before she took breath.
So why resist when you are so weak?
Weak…
"No!" she whimpered sharply, that voice. She had fought so hard to forget that voice. But it was screaming in that tear jerking high pitch, echoing through here mind painfully. "No! I wont let you! No, no I won't!" she stated to jerk here head from side to side, as if hoping that the demon playing that voice in here head would fall out.
She hoped beyond all hope it would stop.
Because she knew what came next.
"What's the matter my dear? Are we upset? Do we want a hug?" that soft, callous voice whispered like an icy blade tracing her neck. Cold, unforgiving, and sharpened to kill. One wrong move and it would slice deep into you, opening up old wounds.
But it was too late for that, because her injuries were reappearing simultaneously in an eruption of that high pitched, horrid voice.
"No! Get AWAY from me!"
"Don't you love me anymore?"
"No, no I hate you Uncle Danny! I hate you! Leave me alone! AAAA!"
Stop it.
That is what she wanted to scream aloud with all her might.
"Come on princess, you don't mean that." She felt the all too familiar thud against her back, as if she had actually been thrown into that damn wall in her room again. The one she hated. "So you don't love me anymore do you sugar? Well, I'll teach you to love me again soon enough. Stay still."
"NO."
"Stop struggling. You can't stop me, you're only a little girl."
A little girl. That was all she was, a little, helpless child.
"Stop it! Stop touching me!" Fiona lashed out with spasms and felt violently sick, as every touch and caress her uncle forced on her tingled, burning cold to her skin. She felt his hands on her everywhere, icy tears falling down her face. "STOP IT!" that horrible crying voice wailed in her head. "Please! Please…" it was begging now.
She was begging now.
That vile, screeching voice was her voice, her young, 9 year old voice weeping, vulnerable and being abused in her head.
"Hush now baby face, it won't hurt if you let me."
"I won't, I won't!"
"Oh but you will. Because you are weak."
"Weak…"Fiona hunched over, her mouth wide open and moist from her own bitter tears.
She had blocked this torment out of her mind for so long, it had become so vivid now. As clear as if it was happening now.
She couldn't stand much more. It felt like she was going to die, she just wanted to die.
Death.
It always came back to death.
"You will succumb to me petal, you can't stop me." She remembered being thrown into the bedside table, the feel of blood tricking cold in memory down her back from the glass picture frame embedded into her back. She remembered gripping onto the side of the table behind her as her beloved uncle stalked towards her with his tie in his hands, getting ever closer to her face. Glass from the photo, a large piece, slipped and sliced into her hand, and she gripped it in pain. "It will all be over soon."
Over…soon…she just wanted it to be over. Reliving this mental torture was searing on her body too.
Death, she wanted death.
Her eyes went blind, black, unable to see the dancing redness licking at her body brutally as she re-enacted her worst memory.
He had put the tie over her eyes. "There, perfect. It's time."
"Yes, it is."
And death she got.
His.
Even blinded, that weak, poor little weeping 9 year old girl had thrust the large piece of glass up and into his chest.
Fatal.
Brutal.
Justice.
The glass was still cutting into her own flesh when she released it, and shakily removed the makeshift blindfold.
She would never forget those shocked, lifeless grey eyes.
Fiona opened her eyes to expect the redness, but she saw those grey eyes.
She heard the struggle of air trying to get past the blood rising in his throat, the gut wrenching thud as she pushed his body off her, and looked at his body on the floor, still looking up at her with those cold grey eyes.
And then they vanished.
The red chaos of evil was surrounding her angrily, bubbling with heat and rage.
Although her uncle had gone, the blood on her hands had not. The act she had committed and lost her innocence had never left her. Just like the blood on her hands would never wash away.
They would be clean, but she would always be able to see the scarlet liquid if she looked close enough.
"You will succumb to me petal, you can't stop me."
But she did stop him. That poor little girl had in an instant changed from a little girl, to a murderer. She had had the strength to take a life, and until now, never regretted it. She hated it, but she never regretted it. And she would have done it again, possibly sooner had she another chance.
The redness crackled like lightning all around her, and she noticed something.
It was surrounding her, but it wasn't trying to consume her anymore.
"That's it…I can stop you. I can do anything." She clenched her bloody fists and glared forwards, into the redness. "I am not afraid. I will not surrender! I will never be weak again!" Fiona screamed as loud as she could, feeling stronger than ever before. That ruthless red demonic storm spiralled towards her, and overwhelmed her. She couldn't breath, it was forcing its way into her mouth, through her eyes, ears, nose, it was violating her body. No, never again! She took a deep breath, pulling the evil entity inside of her. Her skin seared like thousands of tiny needles were trying to burst through, from the inside, blistering. Her flowed through her like molten magma, and she swore it was going to evaporate in her veins she felt so hot. She cried out in agony, and heaved with a tremor of excruciating pain.
And then at least, it was gone.
And again, there was the darkness, left free to its tranquillity, with only the tired and once again numb little girl, who had stood up to her demon. At last she was allowed to feel numbness, no pain or stress of any sort. Peace…utter peace…