Hey guys! Quick update for you. "Theft" is going to be being updated very slowly for the next month or so, and here's why: my dear friend, Estelle, is ILLUSTRATING it for us! She's producing a series of comics, and so I'm writing a lot slower to give her time to catch up, as it could very well take longer than a month for her to draw up to this chapter. You can see the illustrations on my tumblr or on my deviantArt. Both links to both sites are on my profile here. So, that's that! Keep a look out, guys!
Already completed is the Introduction, and Chapter 1. I can't post links in a chapter, so like I said, check out my Tumblr (there's a link on there that takes you to all the Theft related posts) or my dA and they will be the first two most recent posts.
Until then, I am also doing a "25 days of Fanfiction" challenge that offers 25 different Holiday themed prompts for one-shots, to help tide both you and I over until I can start writing this one again. Most will be Jerlita fluff, for your aching hearts from this story. Not all, though. See you Theft readers in a month!
Darkness.
Where… where am I?
I groan and pull myself off of the ground. It's rock-hard, solid concrete. I'm freezing, and my head is throbbing. Really throbbing. I rub my aching temples as I fiercely shiver. I can't see anything. There are no windows, there is no light. No sounds.
I manage to pull myself to all fours, pressing my palms and knees against the cold ground. Each movement sends another painful surge to my skull. I've never had a head ache this bad before, and my mouth is so dry. I rub my fingers against my lips. They're horribly chapped.
I'm cold and I'm confused. I don't know where I am, and my head hurts so bad that I can't think straight. I don't know why I'm here or how I got here.
Leaning one of my wrists against the wall, I weakly bring myself into a standing position, falling against it as a shrill, severe pain shoots through my ankle. I can't put any pressure on it. It must be broken.
The wall is just as frigid as the floor. This entire room is made of concrete. My vision slowly starts adjusting to the black depths of the room. There's a small line of light coming from the edge that marks the divide between the wall and the floor. It must be a door.
Swallowing my own saliva hurts because my throat is so dry. I feel like I'm choking, like my throat is crackling into a canyon. Breathing hurts, too. Like my ribs pierce into my own lungs with each inhale.
What the hell happened to me?
I'm going to go ahead and say it's safe to assume that I'm not in the dorms. Or anywhere near Kadic, for that matter. I almost plummet to the ground every time I try and take a step. My ankle is throbbing in sync with my head, now. I manage to hopple over to the light source, using the wall besides me for balance. I press against it, and it moves back and forth slightly. Yep, it's a door.
I rub my palms up and down as far as the gate goes, but it's completely flat. There's no handle. It must only open from the outside. So whoever put me in here must really not want me to get out.
"Hello?" I choke. My voice is too raspy for anyone to hear. I clear my throat. "Hello?" I call out again, louder and more clear this time.
No answer. I start knocking on the door. "Is anyone there?" I cry out. "Hello!"
Yet again, no response. I fall to the ground as a rush of agony flies throughout the nerves in my skull, clutching my head as I whimper. I feel a cool sensation against my forehead, with tangled strands of my hair sticking to my skin, soaked. Blood.
I must have gotten hit in the head.
I groan, knocking my head against the door. What the hell happened?
I remember being curled up in my bed. The warmth of my thick comforter and solace of my favorite book and… and Mr. Puck. I remember holding him tightly and thinking about everything that has happened in the past three months. I'm human? I have a family?
A father? A father that went totally insane and threw me into a virtual world, at that. It was meant to protect me, but as I look around the stale, empty cage that I'm confined to, I don't feel like it did a very good job at doing so. Will I ever see him again? What about my mother? What happened to her?
I know little bits about my father; sometimes I have memories flash in my head that involve this doll and the Hermitage. I don't know the story behind the memories, but I know that when I see that strange man, it's my father I'm seeing. But my mother… what did she even look like? Did she have pink hair like me? Was she pretty? I can't remember.
Am I ever going to remember?
Last night… I remember hearing a knock on my door. And… that cop. Who said he wanted to talk to me about what happened…but as soon as I let him into my room I recognized him.
And then I remember something heavy knocking against my head. A brick, maybe? The last thing I remember is laying on the floor of my dorm, my surroundings all a blur. And now, here I am. Trapped away in a dark chamber, somewhere, some place.
I knew I shouldn't have told anyone. Jeremie promised me it was going to be okay. He. Promised.
He lied. I bite my lip as tears start spilling from my eyes. Does anyone know I'm missing? How will they ever find me?
I start to panic. How am I going to get out of here? What about XANA? What if he attacks while I'm trapped away? The entire world could end!
I start banging on the door, hoping someone who can help will hear me. I demand to be let out, to be freed, begging for answers and where I am, but nobody answers. I've exhausted myself and I slide down to the floor, lying sideways against the concrete and resting my head against my arms. Salty tears stream down my cheeks, mixing with blood from my cuts and scratches, burning my dry, chapped lips.
I'm cold and I'm scared. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Am I going to be here forever?
Am I… am I going to die?
I lay alone in complete silence with my thoughts.
I want my friends. I want Jeremie.
After a while, I can hear mumbling from the other side of that mysterious door. I sit upwards, clutching my knees to my chest and listening intently. Gentle chattering. I can't quite make out what's being said, though.
"…someone I think you'd like to see," I can hear a voice boom.
It's his. I know it is. It's deep, condemning, and slightly raspy. He's speaking the way he does when he's proud, disgustingly delighted with something. He's here. He put me in this room. He can take me out, too. Maybe if I'm nice to him he'll let me go. Maybe I still have a chance. Should I just tell him? Should I tell him about Lyoko and the supercomputer?
No, Aelita! I shake my head. How stupid was I about to be? Who knows what someone like him could do with that kind of information.
"Who?" It's a woman. She sounds confused. Even scared, maybe? I stare at the door and squint, as if seeing clearer would make me hear them better. I can't hear the rest of the conversation, though…
What are they talking about?
I hear clicking and rattling. The sound of a key being slid into a lock, followed by the sound of a knob turning. I hear the door click. It opens very slowly and delicately, with a dim light slowly creeping into the room and nearly blinding me. I shade my eyes with my arm and look away. I can see two silhouettes at the frame and I start shuddering, because I can see him. I scuttle away and back myself against the wall, hovering my arms over my face in defense. The other one, though… I don't know who that is. It's shorter, and more slender; curvier. Long hair. That must be the woman I heard.
She takes one step into the room, the door opening further until the light is cast to the very end, revealing myself. I slowly lower my arms down to the sides, trembling slightly as the woman takes another step closer to me and then stops.
"No…" she whispers, her voice rattling with horror as she turns to face him. "No!"
She's angry, but also scared. Frantic, in fact. He smiles. I can hear his grimacing chuckle, and she almost lunges towards me before he grabs her arm and forces her out of the room, slamming the door behind them.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" she screams from the other side. I hear a loud bang, like a fist being plummeted against a wall.
"The same thing I did to you, my dear," he fervently whispers.