Disclaimer: This serves no practical purpose.
A/N: Thoughts
I am a terrible procrastinator who can't help herself, and I apologize.
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And Her Eyes Shone like Diamonds+Evasion
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Angel opened her eyes slowly, painfully. Her limbs were stiff and sore from a night of surgeries. As her vision slid into focus, she could see the reflection of her face on the table. Angel was confused, and a bit frightened by the image. She blinked. The girl peering out from within her steel prison did the same. Angel stuck out her tongue. The blood smeared figure copied the action.
She stretched her arms out in front of her and pushed herself up. Soft strands of hair slipped over her shoulders in response to the sudden movement. Propping herself up on her elbows, Angel let a hand wander back to thread through her hair.
It was red. Real red; like blood, and it was apparently permanent. Not only was the color different, but the lovely curls that had adorned her head since infancy were gone as well. Now, her hair fell down in glossy sheets about her face. Joints ached and screamed as Angel rearranged herself into a sitting position. Hesitantly, she glanced down at the table once more.
Her chocolate eyes each had a thin band of crystalline encircling the pupils. The color; or lack thereof, seemed to be spreading though the minute veins in her eyes. It was consuming the brown. A slight shiver ran up Angel's spine. She had also become unusually pale during the last twenty-four hours. She looked like death. It was as if someone had sucked the life from her. And, considering all that had happened; the whole notion wasn't highly unlikely. The drastic changes in her appearance made Angel's blood run cold, and caused her to question if she was fully awake.
Exactly what had happened last night? Her mind was foggy, but whatever it was had hurt like hell. Angel rubbed her arm ruefully. The new stitches were neater than the previous ones, but they were not any less painful. Whimpering softly, Angel lowered herself carefully from the table to the floor. As she prepared to leave the room, something caught her eye.
Atop a shallow tray lay a fine needle resting next to a template. There were words and numbers adorning the mold that she surmised would be etched into her permanently if she did not escape soon. Angel palmed the thin sheet of plastic. Below what appeared to be a barcode was a series of letters that could have been a short DNA sequence. "BLAZE" was etched above all the characters.
That's what he calls me? I wonder what I can do… She quickly concealed the pattern inside her shoe and hurried out into the hall.
This wing of the mansion was unfamiliar to her, and Angel began to panic. After wandering around frantically for awhile, she began to note small spatters of blood adorning the baseboard. Cautiously, she followed the trail of 'bread crumbs' until it led her to her bedroom door. Tiptoeing inside, Angel did not hesitate to notice that the room was now pristine, and smelt of flowers.
Acting quickly, she began flinging clothes from the drawers onto the bed. She paced around wildly, looking for some sort of small sheet. Desperate, Angel grasped the nearby curtains and tugged; using all her body weight. The curtains, rod and all, came crashing down, almost hitting her on the head. Producing scissors from her desk, she sheared off a section of the voluminous cloth.
Angel then proceeded to create a bundle from the fabric, a few dresses, a pair of shoes, and Tau. She dragged the mass out to the stairwell. From there she could see out through the tall windows. Angel quickly noticed that the car was absent from the drive. Now was the time to escape. Her father could arrive back at any moment; she had to take the chance while it was still there.
Angel flung the sack over the balcony and rushed down the stairs after it. Gathering the bundle in her thin arms, she all but sprinted towards the front door. As Angel stumbled down hallways and skirted around corners, somewhere in her subconscious she contemplated why her father hadn't taken more preventive measures against her escape.
The best idea she could conjure up was that perhaps the morphine dosage had been wrong and she should have been under the influence for much longer. But hypotheses were no longer needed when the handle of the looming door was within her grasp. Angel let out the breath she had been holding as she crossed the threshold and stepped into the open air.
Running as fast as her legs and the extra weight she carried would allow her, Angel headed towards the woods that formed a barrier at the back of the house. She was trudging through the gardens when the faint sound of a car engine reached her ears.
Angel paused momentarily before breaking into a dead run. The sack was slipping out of her grasp and halting her progress. In the distance, a car door slammed loudly. She dropped the pack and snatched Tau from among the other items. Angel and her teddy bear fled into the dense mass of trees.
There was a large expanse of land beyond her family's property, and Angel had heard many tales about rogue gypsies and traveling circuses setting up their camps in that area. Her survival now depended on said stories being true. She stumbled through the trees; branches catching in her hair and scraping her arms. Angel made her way over logs and under brush until she finally came to the edge of a small clearing.
Peering out from behind a large shrub, Angel could see a small group of people packing tents, chairs, and other varied camping equipment into a van. To the side stood several individuals who seemed to be collecting their own personal belongings.
They were not dressed in showy clothing, nor did they fit the description of gypsies, but Angel decided that she would take a chance with them. She crept silently towards the van, keeping herself within the shadows of the few trees scattered here and there.
Inside the van, she could see that tent cloths were rolled up and stacked on top of each other, chairs were piled high, suitcases neatly lined the sides, and coils of rope were tucked away in the corners like sleeping snakes. Angel was quickly growing impatient and anxious, when the workers paused for a break.
Seizing the opportunity, she crept into the vehicle, making her way towards some bolts of cloth. From her new vantage point it was clear that the bolts were stacked on a tall, triangular frame. There was a long, narrow space in the middle of the frame, and Angel managed to squeeze herself into it. Suddenly, footsteps alerted her of the workers approaching. She held her breath and waited for what seemed like hours before the motor began to sputter to life.
The driver hit the gas immediately, sending Angel's small body crashing into one side of the frame. She managed to grab onto one of the bars, and held on for dear life as the rickety ride began. The van had to do some off-roading through part of the forest in order to reach the road. And being tucked away with the cargo, Angel was experiencing the life of a pinball.
She was thrown mercilessly from side to side in her cramped hiding space. By the time they reached a country back road, Angel was under the distinct impression that someone had shoved a blender in her ear and puréed her brain. She stayed as still as she could; letting the waves of nausea wash over her.
The vehicle bumped along swiftly, and the movement combined with the low hum and cool air emitted by the air-conditioning gradually put Angel to sleep.
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Angel awoke an hour or so later to find that the van had now stopped and was being slowly unloaded. She shifted a little so she might be able to peer out from the gaps between the bolts. Squinting hard, she could barely make out what appeared to be ships in the distance.
Her suspicions were confirmed when the smell of salty ocean air met her nose. Angel strained to see. Whether they were near the English Channel or the North Sea, she did not know. But it would be vital to find out.
With her attention diverted to figuring out her whereabouts, Angel almost missed the worker that was advancing towards the frame. She swallowed hard. There was no possible way to slip out of the van without being seen, and the workers didn't look as though they would be taking a rest anytime soon.
Two young men deftly picked up the top bolt of a deep green cloth and carried it out and away from the van. Where they placed it, Angel could not see. Soon the men were back, this time accompanied by a boy and a teenage girl. Two more bolts disappeared, with only three remaining to shield the stowaway.
After what felt like an eternity, the girl and one of the men returned. They lifted up a single bolt and were preparing to carry it away, when the girl stopped suddenly and made a face. The pair slowly set the bolt of cloth down on the floor of the van. Angel's heart stopped.
She had been discovered.
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A/N: Review if it pleases you.