In, out.
In, out.
Remember then forget.
Don't dwell,
But don't ignore.
What a bloody awkward recipe.
You try and embrace what has happened to you, in hope that one day, it will make you stronger.
Bend, don't break.
Destruction doesn't just affect you.
That's what I tell myself.
People break in different ways, at different times.
A small crack or a hacksaw.
Either one can leave you in crumbling grains.
Me, I was one of those lucky people who got both. I slowly collapsed in on myself, before being bulldozed.
A night can last an age...
Dreams:
Everyone had dreams at the institution. Mine, they were the same every time. I dreamt of a snake and a lion. A raven and a badger. Emerald eyes and emerald lights. Crimson iris's and crimson flashes. Bushy and sleek hair, contrasting in colour and intertwined. Red locks and black strands tangled in a sea of euphoria. Of victory and betrayal. Of pain and suffering. And of my body. Broken and lifeless in the arms of another...
Pensieve diary: Crumbling part one
I was a child, against the odds and so lonely. I had just four friends...
Clara, who was two years older than me, and impossibly wise. She dreamt of aliens and time travel. Of a man who never died, and a man who did. Whiteboards and chewing gum. And the colour Pink... Leia, a year younger, stronger than all of us put together, and too brave for her own good. She dreamt of mind tricks and robots. Guns and lights. Furry warriors. A brother she never knew she had… Natasha, five years older than the rest if us, trained as a spy, with fiery red hair that set the world on fire. She dreamt of a scientist and a giant green man. A millionaire in a metal suit. An eighty year old soldier, with a fondness of ice. A lightning God, with a toff accent. An archer that she loved with all of her heart... Finally, there was little Marie, nicknamed Rogue. Too innocent and naïve for the life she led. Four years younger than me. She dreamt of a man of claws and a boy of ice. A cat and a wheelchair. Storms and Cyclopes'. Beasts and magnets. And of a time that changed…
I was fed very little...
A dimly lit room, made of cold concrete and harsh steel. A metal plate, on a metal table. A slice of bread, a piece of ham and an apple. My lunch/tea. At least I hadn't had to receive the...exertion, that the others received. I was the lucky one, and I was the little girl drinking tepid water out of a fucking lead cup. I bit into the apple, internally cringing away from the fruit's mushy flesh. It tasted slightly vinegary and left me feeling dizzy, but at the same time supplied me with at least a little nutrients. The ham was mainly made up of fat and gristle, but it was...necessary...that's all anything was. Just necessary. The bread was stale, flecked with green and blue in shades I imagined reflected the ocean, however it still gave me strength. And that is what I lived on. That once a day, with an extra slice of bread and a sliver of cheese for breakfast.
I was beaten...
"You stupid bitch!" A large foot, clothed in a metal toed boot sped into my stomach, forcing me to the floor and winding me.
"We had a fucking deal! You don't interfere, and we follow the deal we made with your father. So stay the fuck out of that room, and we don't make you go in there. Get the picture?!" Each word was punctuated with a blinding kick or punch to my fragile body. The pain causing me to see stars.
"Yes...yes...just stop please..." With the a huge meaty hand gripped my hair, yanking my head backwards so that I was looking into two blood shot eyes, topped with dark, bushy eyebrows and a scowl that would give a hormonal teenage girl a run for her money.
"You know the rules...make sure that you bloody well follow them!" And with those words, off he went. Back into 'that' room.
But at least I wasn't raped. Not yet anyway...
I pressed my eye to the key hole. A young girl on all fours, brown hair matted to her scalp with a mixture of sweat, tears and a, at the time, mysterious white substance. A man, in his early fifties, moved behind her. Pants and cries echoed from the room, and a thick, musky smell permeated the air. A torrent of filthy words flowed out of the room, spoken in a deep make voice. Whimpers of pain emanated from the girl beneath him. He grasped her hair with a meaty grip as his panting and swearing became more frequent, and I saw her face. It was Clara. She looked my way and mouthed a single word. 'Please'. And I ran. Too scared to do anything but run away, like a bloody coward. Stumbling over my own feet in a desperate attempt to escape.
I didn't know it, but it was him who kept me...safe...
Bright red eyes, stark against a pale washed out face. Breath on my chin, causing me to shiver, as my gaze dropped to the floor. Sweeping over full lips and a pointed chin.
"Look at me." He whispered, his exhale tickling my face. I, almost imperceptibly, shook my head. He grabbed my chin and forced my head upwards, causing my glance to be directed straight at those inhuman eyes. Filled with too much cruelty and spite to belong to any mere mortal. "Come on now, speak up." At this I simply looked at him with a fear filled expression. "I said SPEAK!" He said the last word with such ferocity that I felt compelled to say a little. Very quietly I murmured "Don't hurt me." As I finished those words he laughed. Such a high, cold, piercing laugh that it made my breath catch in my throat. "Surely you are not the child I sired? She must have even a little more...chutzpah in her. Maybe I just need to push you?" With this he brought his hand down and slapped me with such force I saw stars. "Come on! React!" He said, hitting me again and again. I felt a rumbling deep within me, not unlike the beginning of a storm on a rainy day. The light fixtures above us spluttered and threw sparks, a howling wind appearing from nowhere, but it may have just been the roaring of my blood in my ears. "Perfect...such dark magic for one so young." He muttered, his eyes searching mine. "I wonder..." He stood up from the crouched position he had maintained in order to look me in the eye. Then he started to walk alway, heading out of the cheap plastic door that made the exit of the room. "Where are you going, and who are you?" I whispered, after gathering the courage to do so. "I, dear one, am going to talk to some people, and, in answer to your second question, I am your Father." And with that, he glided out of the room in a cloud of flowing fabric and a shroud of mystery.
I have seen and done horrible things, all in the name of survival. And I need to tell someone. I know you are just a Pensieve diary, but maybe I can find some solace in sharing things with you. Just so long as you don't judge me too harshly.
A/N I am so sorry for the late update. I re-drafted this FOUR times, and I'm still not completely happy with it. Basically, intertwined with the actual story, will be these diary chapters. The aim of these chapters is to give you a little insight into Lila's past, as she doesn't really share much. On a happier note, I would like to welcome Zucchini to , although here he goes by the name SonodaUmiSenpai. Feel free to harass him. Also, I am going to try to come up with a schedule, otherwise I just have random updates, and that's unfair on you. I'll tell you more about that in the next chapter. Finally, I am sorry for the shortness of the chapter. Until next time, adieu!