Chapter VI: This Little Light of Mine
"Innocence eroded into nightmare.
All because of a very bad touch.
Love, corrupted."
― Ellen Hopkins
Nonconsensual teleportation between areas of STEM were always unpleasant, and often times led to a scraped limb or two.
Ama, despite the slight influence she maintained over this abhorrent world, was powerless to stop Ruvik when he fancied porting her to a different location.
She hit the ground rolling, kicking up dirt as she skidded and finally drew to a stop. She lay sprawled on the ground, small stones and pebbles having torn holes in the lining of her gown.
The dress— once a show of elegance in pristine white— now lay mostly in tatters. It was dirtied beyond repair, smudged and stained with dirt, mud, and blood. Her hair, formerly braided into a simple updo, had long since fallen loose, and the crown of flora she had donned had been lost.
Cringing as she rose to her feet, she wobbled on her toes a bit before regaining her balance. Her body ached; something she found questionable. Why had her creator designed her to be capable of such unpleasant sensations? If she was to be a program, she would have rather been designed as one that was immune to such physical hindrances.
But as it were, she was quite human in nature, and had to deal with the consequences of that. That meant enduring bone-deep aches as she picked her way towards an abandoned looking building, the likes of which rose high on the horizon.
The sun hung low behind the structure, offering just enough light for the program to be able to navigate her way through the desolate courtyard with little to no trouble.
As she walked, she gradually began to lose herself to the thoughts she was most recently given cause to mull over. Not surprisingly, they pertained to the puppeteer of this entire place: Ruvik.
He had inflicted her with pain on more than one occasion, yet his efforts to torment her seemed almost tame in comparison to the misery he exacted on the detectives and other inhabitants of this godforsaken place.
His touch, so cold and callous, still lingered on her porcelain flesh. She could still feel him plucking away at her hair, smoothing the roughened pads of his fingertips against her knuckles, seemingly fascinated by the smooth texturing. His skin remained numbed to feeling, and the only time she seemed able to quell his murderous tendencies was when she restored him to the man he should have been; one that was unmarred by brutal, unforgiving flames.
She was designed to combat him, and if that were truly the case, why did she feel so mournful when she peered into the depths of those cold silver eyes?
No. No— she was allowing him to wedge himself beneath her skin, to burrow deep into her thoughts where he did not belong. She had been created for a purpose, one she was determined to fulfill, even if it meant her ultimate demise in the end. She would relieve this place of the foulness that ruled here, even if that meant she was forced to stand against Ruvik.
With that thought in mind, her wandering seized when she came to an open area then; a small patch of land littered with brush and trees, with a tall iron fence looming just a few short feet away. There was a gap in the bars, offering her a space plenty large enough for her to slide through. But as she paced towards it, something compelled her to stop.
She wasn't quite sure why she stopped, in all honesty, but something urged her to linger— gave her reason to pause.
And then, a small, pitiful whimper carried itself on the wind and to her ears.
She turned then, her eyes widening for a brief moment before they melted into a softer, more sorrowful gaze. She followed the sound, seeking out the pained whining, ducking beneath branches and pushing aside thick leaves until at last she discovered the wounded creature.
There lay the Sentinel, a misguided beast that loosely resembled a wolf, in a broken, bloodied heap. It was abandoned in a remote bush pressed against the fencing surrounding the area.
Its tongue was lolling out, and it writhed helplessly on the ground, swiveling its bulging eye towards the woman who knelt beside it.
Ama's brows clenched in sympathy as she took in the sight of the defeated monster, riddled with bullet holes and impaled by crossbow bolts. It was teetering between life and death, stuck on that thin line, left to suffer. Whoever had faced it had not bothered to finish the job.
It growled weakly when she extended a hand, and the program waited patiently, batting her lashes at the creature. She pressed her hand against its massive shoulder after a long hesitation, her fingertips pressing into matted and bloodied fur.
"Hush now...it's alright." Her voice was soft, tender, like soothing medicine on a burning wound. The Sentinel whined and thrashed languidly, unable to muster up the will to fight. It stilled under her touch, beneath fingers that were so ginger and tame, and its labored breathing eased for a brief moment, as if anticipating the moment when her touch would end its pain.
Retracting her hand, Ama frowned suddenly. Why could she not dispel this beast and put it out of its misery? Her touch always dispersed Ruvik's creations; why could she not ease this one's suffering with the same method?
She tried again, and then again, and again. Each time she tried to send away the suffering animal, to put a peaceful and merciful end to its pain, she was unsuccessful. It never broke into those tiny, shimmering particles of light. It remained, and she was powerless to aid it.
Rocking back on her heels at the thought, Ama lifted her hand to her mouth, pressing her fingertips against her now quivering lips. Something wet leaked down her cheeks as she listened to the beast howl and moan, the sounds slicing her heart deeper and deeper with each wailing octave.
Why could she not help it? Surely Ruvik had not taken all her light from her just yet? She had experienced trouble dispelling the Sadist earlier, but surely he hadn't siphoned her remaining influence away so quickly?
What sort of cruel fate was this that he had left her to then, if that were the case? Her reason for existence was to stabilize STEM— to purify all the foul darkness that inhabited it. It was why Marcelo Jimenez had created her, why he had deployed her here. That was why she could dismiss Ruvik's spawns so easily; that was why a single touch from her set them free.
If he took that power from her, that influence and hand of mercy, then what was she? The answer was simple:
Nothing. She was nothing but a failed subject. At the end of the day, she would just be another disappointment.
Catching sight of a metallic gleam, Ama's bleary eyes honed in on the glint of an axe. It lay in a patch of grass nearest to her, and she swallowed heavily, the lean muscles in her throat working as she attempted to stifle the lump she felt welling up there.
She had told herself she would never kill any creature in this world. Her only method of being rid of them was her purification process, where she purged the evil from them and freed them of this curse.
But now it seemed as if her powers no longer answered her call; the only merciful end she could offer the helpless lump of fur was an axe to the throat, and the very thought of harming the wounded beast brought a fresh onslaught of tears to her pale blue eyes.
Her fingers curled around the hilt of the weapon, and nothing had ever felt so heavy in the palm of her hand before. She lifted it up slowly, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned a ghostly white. Her hand quaked, trembling violently as she lined the sharp end up with the beast's neck.
Its eyes strayed to her then, its pupils dilating with pain and suffering. All she could see was her reflection in those aching irises, and it pained her to look upon such a sight.
The Sentinel did not try to lash out at her. It seemed to understand that she was different; that she was not the same as the others who existed in this cursed world. It watched her closely, a pleading and helpless look in its eyes, as she smoothed her hand over its fur for a final time— a small, offered gesture of comfort. The poor creature even managed to thump its tail once in a half-hearted wag.
"Forgive me." She murmured, her eyelashes glistening with moisture as she lifted the axe above her head. The wolf-like beast never broke eye contact with her.
Her arms felt as if they were weighed down with chains and weights. Her shoulders hunched under the burden of her decision, and a familiar voice mocked her in her mind.
"Give in." The bodiless drawl goaded her, "Kill it. It wants you to kill it. Show it the mercy you seek to give."
If she brought down the blade, she knew that she was giving Ruvik another shard of her sanity, of the light that she had been bestowed by her creator to combat his acridity. She would be trading it in for darkness.
But the Sentinel's eyes pleaded with her, solicited her mercy, beckoning and appealing to her pity and compassion. And Ama was weak— god curse her, she was weak in the face of the imploration, and could not deny what was being asked of her. She could not, in good conscious, leave it here to suffer.
She brought down the axe with a forceful swing, and it sunk into the thick flesh of the beast's neck with a gruesome squelching noise. It howled loudly, the sound straining the heavens as it twitched and writhed violently. The sounds were enough to rip a small cry from Ama herself, as if she felt the pain of the strike as well.
But the disfigured canine was not dead yet, and thus she was forced to remove the axe and embed it back into the creature's throat. Three times she had to repeat this process before its incessant whimpering and whining seized, and it stilled and fell limp at long last.
The dark haired woman slid back then, scampering away from the dead-eyed corpse, her hands and forearms covered in blood, and her face and dress similarly flecked with crimson.
She looked lost in that moment as she wildly began to turn her head every which way, searching for someone or something to ground her after such a horrific experience. But there was no one, there was nothing, to save her from the blood of her first victim. She had sworn herself dedicated to a peaceful cause, and here she was, engraving the slicing edge of an axe into an animal's jugular. Killing something was a dreadful feeling, she decided, one she hoped she never experienced again.
"Give in." The voice tempted her, the bass tone heavy in her waking consciousness. She stared down at the blood on her hands, and the world suddenly tilted around her, swaying dangerously on its hinges.
For a moment, she saw red. Her bloodied hand fisted into her hair and she howled as she doubled over, her body convulsing with the force of her agony. Dark, bulging veins began to well up beneath the flesh of her otherwise docile visage, and her eyes became darker, until the colors that had once been as bright as a sliver of shimmering ice grew as black as the darkest depths of the ocean.
Her lips parted, the roseate petals of flesh allowing a stream of blood to leak past them. Her hands trembled and quaked, and the world around her pulsated with waves of energy. She saw him for a fleeting second, standing several feet from her, her flower crown in hand. The petals withered and died, turning to ash in his hands, and the ground seemed to quake violently with the steps he took towards her.
"Give in. You are mine to do with as I please."
She gritted her teeth, scrambling for purchase against the ground. Her fingers knotted into the earthen soil beneath her, and she clawed at it, her chest heaving with the efforts of her labored breaths. She had experienced this before in the company of Sebastian and Joseph, when Ruvik had first managed to turn her, but it hadn't been nearly this excruciating— and she hadn't had such a hard time breaking free of his control.
Either she was growing weaker, or he was getting stronger.
Ruvik watched her with a pensive stare, unphased by her evident anguish. It was nearly palpable, and when she rose to her feet— albeit shakily— his eyes followed her.
"Give it back to me." Her voice was a tremulous plea, and the edges of his scarred lips tilted upwards at the corners in a subtle manner. He knew precisely what it was that she sought.
"I have taken nothing from you. You alone are responsible for your corruption." His voice held an air of superiority to it, as if he were mocking her current state.
"We both know that's not true, Ruben." Her voice was sharper than before, her dark eyes like blackened flames that lapped at his skin. It was an intensity she had not possessed before, and Ruvik frowned ever so subtly at the change in disposition.
She was different now. She used to be a beacon in this dark hell, so bright and alluring, drawing in those around her with a warm luminosity. But now her light had faded, he had stolen it from her as easily as one might take candy from a toddler, and now she had changed.
He had corrupted her, and soon she would be nothing more than a mindless slave, just like all the other Haunted. This was what he had wanted all along, for this pest of a program to be out of his hair— so why did he feel a sense of disquiet when he looked upon her now?
"Please. You took it from me, and only you can return it." She drew closer to him, and he did not flee. He simply watched her; watched the way she stumbled and wobbled on her formerly sure and stable feet. She was falling apart; coming unraveled at the seams, and he was the one with the thread in his hand, yanking it loose.
He had damaged a being that had once been so pure. So, so pure, like someone he had known long ago.
"Ruben, please."
How long had it been since someone had called him by his true name? Countless years, perhaps, or maybe even longer. He had lost his sense of time in this place.
And then she was there. Her hand grasped his, her scent encircling him as her eyes gazed up at him in pitiful prayer. She was relying upon whatever sliver of humanity might be left in him, banking on a shard of mercy he didn't have to spare. The darkness was killing her, and he was the only one who could free her.
His hand lifted, caressing the skin of her cheek that he could not feel beneath his deadened fingertips. Her lips parted, and she looked so vulnerable in that moment that, had he been a kinder man, he would've taken pity on her. But he was not a kind man.
Why was it then that he felt compelled to humor her request?
Her touch feathered across his cheekbones, brushing against the tarnished skin, and she nearly sagged against him in her agony. Light and dark clashed, and the former was not triumphant. And how could she be? She was a single light in a world of shadow, a small star amidst a blanket of endless night.
They stood for a moment, locked in place and frozen by the other, ensnared in some invisible binding that refused to relinquish its grip on them.
"Release me from your hold, Ruben." Her voice was softer now, and he knew she was not referring to his physical touch. She wanted her light returned to her, and with little to no pondering on the matter, he at last granted her request.
The warmth flooded through her system with an abruptness that bordered on disorienting, and her eyes grew bright once more. The veins that had welled up beneath her skin faded, and the pale flesh practically glowed. She outshone even the setting sun, and she was bewitchingly radiant— the first glimpse of a resplendent dawn in a place of boundless dusk.
The corruption fled from her features, and she was once again whole because he allowed her to be.
Try as he might, he could not resist the warmth she emitted. Even the sunlight felt cold against his deadened skin, but with her, that was not the case. And it was intoxicating, these sensations she renewed in him. She was intriguing, beguiling, a fresh sense of purity and uncorrupted beauty.
Her light was his alone to own. She would shine for no one but him.
Her eyes, so doe-like and wide, gazed up at him thoughtfully as his thumb pressed against her full lower lip. With the corruption removed from her being, the scarring that encompassed his flesh dissipated as it always did when they were brought into contact.
And the warmth that flooded his system was exhilarating. Not only did she return to him his sense of touch, but she took the burdens of his mind, alleviating the crushing weight of them. All those years spent in anguish were blurred, drowned out by her almost blinding light. They were not vanquished, but they were at least stifled.
And Ruvik, a depraved and selfish man, craved that light of hers with an otherworldly greed. It was his. She was his, and he would see to it that she was made aware.
"You are mine," He had said the words to her on multiple occasions. He claimed everything in the world as his own; pawns of his to do with as he pleased. But something about this declaration was different. The words were heavier, and they hung in the air to an almost suffocating degree.
His hands cupping her face tightened their grip to a bruising degree, but Ama batted not a single lash. Her gaze softened, and the gentleness within those flecks of wintry blue was almost disarming.
Her lips parted as if to respond, but before the words could dislodge themselves from her thoughts, his head craned ever so slightly in the direction of the church. His touch retracted, and when the connection between them broke, he returned to his true, charred state.
"Ruben—" She beckoned to him tentatively, knowing his mind, but he disappeared from sight before she could persuade him from his intentions.
But when he vanished, he took with him the light he had returned to her, and she was once more denied her influence over this world. This should not have surprised her in the least, but nonetheless, that did not dim her frustrations. What purpose did returning her to her original state do if he was just going to retract his decision?
Left on her own and powerless once more, Ama heaved out a quivering sigh that seemed to shake her tiny body down to the very core.
If she had any doubts about Ruvik's intentions to corrupt and hinder her before, she could now make a justified assumption that this was indeed the case. And worse still was the fact that she was beginning to lose the will to resist him.
There was something about him when he drew near; something she couldn't put to words even if she tried, but it made her doubt her mission, if only for a moment. That was perhaps his most frightening power over her. She could endure agony, but to feel such an urge to succumb…
Hurrying forwards, Ama pulled herself through the opening in the iron gate, directing her feet towards the church. She was just as aware of Ruvik's presence as he was of her own, and she was able to trace him to the building in the distance. She had a sinking feeling that he had cut his time with her short in favor of attending other matters, the likes of which most likely came in the form of two detectives.
With renewed fervency and strength, she flung the double doors to the sanctuary open upon reaching them, the dim lighting of the stain glass illuminating her figure with shards of varying colors.
"Ama!" Sebastian's familiar voice called to her, and her heart clenched with relief at the sound of his voice. Joseph sat in the front pew, doubled over in a similar position of distress and discomfort that the female program found herself sympathizing with.
"It's happening again." The senior detective's voice was gruff as he fished around in his pockets for a syringe to alleviate his partner's suffering.
"Can't you do something about this?" His question caused her to flinch, and she felt a renewed sense of failure at the inquiry. If only Ruvik was not so hellbent on denying her this, she could have eased Joseph's suffering with a simple touch— but now she was just as powerless in the face of the writhing man as Sebastian was.
"Forgive me, detective. I cannot…at the moment, I am unable to—"
Her voice wavered, and she suddenly snapped to attention, going rigid as a pole. Her head careened over her shoulder, and she placed herself in front of the men, shielding them from an unseen, lurking menace.
"He's here." She murmured, and the comment was met only with a grumbled "Great", on behalf of the older investigator.
She was not afraid of Ruvik, but she knew that he meant harm for her two allies. She would stand in his way to protect them, if that's what it took. She felt his presence weigh heavily down upon her, she could feel the venomous intent as if it were tangible— but where was he?
"Ama, stand back!" Sebastian's voice strained through his gritted teeth as he squirmed and contorted, agonized by the onslaught of pain that their visitor's presence brought on. Ama did not heed his words despite their urgent severity, and instead, her eyes sought him. Where, where, where—
Suddenly, the chandelier above rocked with an added weight, and her poised stare lifted to meet his.
There.
The familiar cloaked figure awaited her, and his eyes narrowed at the protective stance she took up. With a mere gesture of his hand, the entirety of the room was thrown off kilter. Statues groaned and splintered into fragments and lifted, candlesticks and other miscellaneous items rose as well, levitating in the air under Ruvik's bidding. The world around them grew distorted, and a loud, unbearable ringing nearly deafened the church's occupants.
Ama grasped at Sebastian's arm, her touch ghosting against his sleeve as she curled her fingers around his forearm. She grounded him as the room came undone around them, and her throat tightened at the sounds of his agonized grunts and groans.
"Enough of your games, Ruben, please! I won't allow you to hurt them!" Her voice was thick with resolve, but nearly unheard over the tumultuous chaos around them.
Suddenly, everything stilled. For a moment she foolishly assumed that the threat had passed, until Ruvik appeared in front of her.
With a single flick of his wrist, he sent the senior detective hurtling from her grasp, and she cried out as she watched him collide with the wall. She moved to flee to his side to ensure he was still alive, but a firm grip bordering on pain grappled at her wrist, barring any further movements.
She struggled and thrashed, fighting heartedly to get to her wounded companion. Ruvik grew more displeased with her resistance by the second. Just a while ago she had been so complacent; so pliable in his hands, like putty to be molded as he saw fit.
But she stood against him when it came to these detectives. These intruders. She was his, her light belonged to him, he had decided that now— and he shared with no one. If these two individuals were the cause of her resistance, then he would wipe them off of the map. They were nothing but insects to be squashed beneath his feet, after all.
"Head's up, Ama!" Sebastian warned, and the program's eyes swiveled towards him. His handgun was aimed, locked and loaded, and the first shot fired forced Ruvik to glitch away from the woman he restrained.
"Detective, stop! Don't do this— not for my sake!" She pleaded, knowing full and well the consequences his actions would warrant.
Panic blossomed in her chest, flourishing like a thorny flower. How had she allowed herself to become this weak? How had she permitted herself to fall so low? She had been designed to soothe and protect, but yet she failed at every turn.
She was a part of Ruvik's mind, meaning she had influence over this place as well, and she would be damned if she let him control her. She would not sit idly by while he brought these people to harm. She did not wish to be his enemy, but she would protect what she was meant to.
Summoning forth a formerly dormant power of will within her, she overthrew Ruvik's influence over her, if only for a short while, and reclaimed her light for her own.
The cloaked scientist paused in his advancement towards Sebastian then, glancing over his shoulder with a heavy glare.
"I cannot allow you to hurt him." Her voice was soft like silk, but the determination in her eyes was as hard as iron. Her will to protect was unwavering, and not even he could take that from her.
Dark and light clashed once more, and with a gesture similar to the one Ruvik himself had demonstrated earlier, Ama used her regained influence to port the ailing detective and his unconscious partner away, successfully safeguarding them from any further abuse. Well, for the time being, that was.
Ruvik stood still for a short moment, his eyes sliding over the now empty church, save for the two of them; they who were always at odds.
"You cannot hope to overpower me, yet you continue to defy my will. Why do you insist on interfering?" The words were calm, yet there was a bite to them, and the frigid decibel in which he spoke sent a chill down her spine. He was annoyed, to put it lightly, with her efforts.
Against all odds, she defied him at every twist and bend.
She stepped towards him, so vibrant and pure, and her gaze flickered with remorse. It was not her will to clash with him, but their interests simply did not line up. They were destined to destroy one another. Darkness could not exist where light did.
"You cannot protect them. Your purpose here is misplaced. But it doesn't matter..." His voice grew distant, echoing around her in a booming symphony, "I will make you see."
He disappeared then, leaving her to her own company once more, and his parting words were like a tightening noose around her neck.
"You are mine, and mine alone."
[ Now the fun truly begins, my friends. c; I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! The struggle is real between Ama and Ruvik. Also, if you guys are interested, I made a playlist for them on 8tracks (please don't kill me for the Phantom reference the lyrics are just so fitting) : /little-miss-rain/the-wolf-and-his-lamb
Savage Kill: This is very true! I think to be a scientist you really need to have a curious quality about you, since like you said, they tend to try to solve things and reason through them. Thank you for your review, and I'm delighted to hear that you agree with my view point on Ruvik's curiosity! c: Thank you for your review!
musicmiss18: Ah, thank you so much! It's always so reassuring to hear people say that I manage to keep Ruvik in character. I'm always paranoid that I'm inaccurately portraying him, so needless to say, I'm delighted to hear that you think that he's in character! I'm looking forward to writing out that balance and relationship that you're anticipating, and I hope it doesn't disappoint! Thank you for your review, dear!
Guest: I'm delighted to hear that you think that, Guest! Your so sweet, thank you so much for your encouraging words! And thank you for taking the time to review!
Kat: I'm glad you thought it was exciting; I had a ball writing it, haha. I hope to please with future chapters, and by the development of Ama and Ruvik's relationship! Thank you for your review!
MobMotherScitah: I'm glad to hear the chapter pleased you! Hopefully I will be able to continue to please in future chapters. ^^ And look what I have here; another update for you! Thank you for your review, dear! ]
