Note: At the end of the previous chapter i accidentely pasted a paragraph meant for another chapter! Also thankyou to the person who commented on it! i really appreciate it but for some reason cant reply to comments on here :(
Chapter 2: Mud Pies to Diamonds
Arma stepped inside the plane, which was full of men in suits and ties reading the Vienna Herald News, their foreheads wrinkled like that of Arma's dress. She made her way to the back of the plane, and as she walked past the other passengers, they looked away from the monotonous political columns they were reading, staring at her grubby toes, that were covered in blood and dirt, but the wounds that were present upon them before -opened up by smashed glass bottles- had healed.
She took a seat and zipped up the Verat's leather jacket, her hair prickling up from the cold that had finally registered in her brain. She observed the business men, thinking to herself that their lives, despite the crashing stock markets, were easy. They went home, had their dinner cooked for them by their significant other, and could put their feet up on the leather foot rest that sat in front of the burning log fire in their white picket fence home.
Arma had been used to more than that for a short while, the lavish gifts, the candle lit dinners with the red wine coating her inexperienced taste buds, the soft designer dresses that he would do up as he caressed her skin, the fingers of that damned prince with his deep green eyes twisting her naive mind into doing as he wanted. Arma felt like a wild beast, lured into a glass cage by temptation, the bait that of a lavish life, the transparency of the glass bypassing her vision so she could not see that it was confinement.
"You really do look like a Princess, Arma," Kenneth said as he zipped up her velvet black gown.
"But I am not, I am a peasant."
"Now, now Arma, a peasant can become royalty if married into the family," Kenneth said as he held onto her arms, smirking.
"But my blood will still remain impure," She said as she looked up at him with her sad eyes, the colour of which deep brown, almost black.
"You are a Hexenbeist, we do not care, we have fondness for them."
"When can I see my family?"
Kenneth let go of her arms and sat on the edge of the large bed with curving wooden accents - red curtains hanging from the canopy- big enough to fit Arma's family in it, all six of them.
"They didn't want you Arma, but we did."
"My mother would never let me go, I was always her favourite," Arma said as she moved towards Kenneth.
"Yes sweetheart, but thats because you were special, and she could benefit off that when you came of age."
Tears formed in Arma's eyes, and she wiped them away, as to remain strong.
'You cannot show them weakness Arma, they feed off it, if you can pretend, then you already are one step ahead of them, only show weakness to those you trust'
Arma recalled her mothers advice, and her tears retreated back down to their confines, before she stepped towards the bed and put her hand upon the Princes cheek, looking at him with admiration, admiration that was very much real despite her not trusting him one bit.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we are now leaving Vienna airport."
Arma looked away from the business man and leant her head on the window, watching as they rose up into the sky, the twinkling lights of Vienna speckled throughout the darkness, her eyelids soon closing as they headed towards asylum.
The plane landing jolted Arma around, awaking her. The passengers began folding their newspapers and placing them in their brief cases; straightening their ties ready to look the part for when their partner greeted them.
Arma sat up straight from her slouched position, and followed behind the other passengers as they exited their rows, heading out of the plane. She placed her hands in her pockets, her fingers like ice, most of the blood pooled in her core not wanting to release any more warmth to the surroundings.
She rushed through the airport, where customers kept bumping into her, staring at her ragged state. The sound of suitcases rolling on the ground, the announcements and the clanging of the baggage carousel threatened to disorientate Arma, ringing in her ears. The bright light scorched her retinas, the back of her eyes aching, but not as bad as she was used to being in the castle.
She knew she stood out, the dishevelled hair, the grubby feet, the dress that was ripped apart, and she needed to acquire a different look, one that also would not dissipate without warning. She headed to lost and found, where the worker had their head upon the desk asleep, snoring away like a Hundjager.
She opened the door that led into the lost and found, not caring if she may be caught, because if she was, she most likely could get out of it, a confidence that was not yet qualified for her to have.
In the room was various abandoned suitcases, and random items such as a surfboard which Arma looked at, her brow raising before she went over to the rail that contained clothing.
She looked through the options, taking out a hanger with a nightie on it, promptly putting it back.
She found a denim mini skirt, the only available thing for her bottom half, and something that would not do much to stop her skin being attacked by the cold night air that would be arriving in a matter of hours. She took her dress off standing in the makeshift changing room in her underwear, before putting on the skirt and pairing it with a dark vest top. She put the leather jacket back on, kicking the mutilated dress underneath the rail, before bending down and searching in the box that contained shoes, flinging the granny slippers out and trying to find something a little more practical.
She slipped on some boots and left the room, the clerk still asleep from whatever antics had occurred the night before.
Arma walked out the entrance, the muggy air from inside the airport replaced by the cool air that swirled around her, in which she took a deep breath, before heading to one of the yellow cabs lined up outside, a modern carriage for a 'Princess' in need.
"I need to go somewhere for shelter," Arma said in her Austrian accent, leaning on the cabs window, the driver inside with his mouth full of a sub sandwich.
"I'm in a hurry," Arma said as the man continued to chew on his sandwich, unbothered by his potential customer.
Arma pushed the window down further with her hand, pressing the glass down, the winder inside the door whirring around as she did so.
"If you don't stop chewing on that, I will personally-" Arma said before smiling at the man, catching her tongue between her teeth as to not irritate the man, by insulting him.
"Woman, the hell is wrong with you?" the driver said as he looked up at her in surprise before putting his sub down on the seat next to him.
"You going to give me a ride or not?"
"Yes, just get in, but damn, I've never met someone so impatient."
Arma stepped inside the vehicle, where an old sandwich wrapper lay on the seat beside her.
"Where to, and I'm going to need a little more information than 'shelter'" the man said mockingly.
"Just take me to a hotel, what's so hard to understand?"
"You didn't say hotel before, and I should raise the fare for your attitude ma'am."
The cab began moving, pulling out onto the busy roads, the green voluminous trees swaying in the breeze as they passed by the towering brick buildings, the smell of the cholesterol soaked sub tangling itself in Arma's nose. The streets of Portland were full with suited up men carrying their briefcases to work, the work that slowly drained their humanity from their soul, turning them into money making machines for the higher ups. Ladies with their morning coffee headed to the gym, bouncing as they walked, their tight sportswear almost crushing their lungs, that they would most definitely need if they were doing spin fit. Arma did not have a plan, and if her ability to cause illusions was not so unpredictable she yearned to be able to be, even for one day, a regular human, live the monotonous human existence of drinking coffee and going to the gym.
The cab pulled outside The Royal Hotel, the green overhang faded a little around the scalloped edges, and a red rug leading the patrons inside like they were indeed royalty.
"Is this hotel good?"
"Well if you have the money sweetie," the driver said looking back at her, smiling at her deviously. "And if you don't have the money, well I can drive you someplace cheaper, but it will cost you," he said as he rubbed his fingertips together.
"Of course I can afford it. How much is the fare?"
"Forty dollars."
Arma took a bullet from the jacket, handing it to the man, the smooth gold exterior feeling like paper in the man's hand as she handed it to him.
"Thanks for the ride," Arma said as she stepped onto the pavement, the cab driving off not realising the free trip that had just been given.
She walked inside, the walls a light green, the baseboards gold and the dark floors polished, so much so they could be used as a mirror. The workers dressed in black suits, with crisp white shirts, and looked Arma up and down as her scuffed boots trod upon the perfect floors, heading towards the front desk.
"One room please," Arma said as she placed a bullet on the countertop.
"Of course ma'am. What is your name?"
"Arma Meyer."
The receptionist typed into the computer, before taking the money and placing it in the register. She then handed Arma the room key. Room 72.
"Thanks."
"Enjoy your stay, and if you need anything then just telephone the front desk from the comfort of your own room."
Arma shut the door behind her, the bed in front of her with towels formed into origami like shapes, with complementary shampoos and a soft white robe, which she felt between her fingers. I wonder what this is a bribe for she thought to herself as she looked at the luxuries provided to her. Hopefully just to persuade me to stay here again, she thought as she smiled to herself.
She fell upon the soft sheets, arms spread as the supple fabric caressed her skin, her hair becoming static as she moved her head around. Then her jacket pocket began to vibrate, the quivering moving into her ribs as it continued. She pulled it out from the inside pocket, and moved to the end of the bend, putting the phone to her ear, her eyes narrowing and her jaw tightening.
"Arma darling, it was not very nice of you to kill Damien and Carlos, was it?" A deep voice said.
"No I guess not. But they can't complain can they."
"Look I know that since Kenneth and Eric, and all the others, left you, its been hard, but you need to come back."
"You know actually, them leaving made no difference to me."
"Of course it did, were you not in love with Kenneth?, did you not care for the others?"
"Maybe once, but I was in love with a mask, that soon fell upon the floor. I was a naive girl,who fell for all the luxuries you buy with the blood you spill, " Arma said as her voice trembled.
"Arma dear, he cared for you he did, we all do, still."
"If you really are so stupid, to think that I would even believe that, then who else is deceiving you? Making you think that you have them wrapped around your finger, when it's the other way round?" Arma said condescending the man on the phone.
"Arma, your powers are dangerous. They are unpredictable, and you don't know how to handle them properly, hence the explosion at that restaurant-"
"I can handle them fine, and perhaps if you are so worried about ending up like your little dogs, then maybe don't try and find me Viktor."
Viktor sighed, and his words became incomprehensible as he spoke to others in the background.
"Arma you will end up killing innocent people, you already have done. I know you don't want to do that, so it's your decision, but remember our arms are always open for you, and maybe if you come back without too much of a fuss, you can have that grand bedroom you always liked instead of the dungeon, hmm?"
"Go to hell Viktor, your words mean nothing to me, enjoy your foie gras," Arma said before hanging the phone up.
Arma squeezed the phone in her hand, as ripples moved across her skin like writhing worms.
The chandelier above her flickered as she focused on the phone, her gaze not averting. The phones screen began to glitch, the screen fading away beneath purple and green lines before shutting off, and the ripples beneath her skin fading away with it.
Arma threw the phone on the floor before going into the bathroom, turning the golden faucet on the bath. The water rose to the top, glistening like that of the diamonds that she was used to having hung around her neck; a noose in the form of diamonds, for eventually the diamonds became a payment for the torture that she would endure, the endless experiments, that would leave her wanting to die, all in order to make her their most valuable asset.
She stepped into the tub, her cold skin finally warming up, a warmth she did not want to leave. She dunked her hair under the water along with her face, her pale lips not releasing any bubbles, as she just lay still, staring up at the ceiling. The water muffled all outside sounds, and her heart rate slowed.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump. A young girl fell to the floor of the forest, her skin streaked with soil and her fingernails trimmed with the stuff also. She looked up at the person standing over her, another child, with blond flowing hair wearing a crown made of sticks and other forest debris.
"Now Arma, you peasant you will come with me to my castle and you will cook me the finest mud pie the kingdom has ever seen," the child said in a deep rumbling voice.
Arma stood up and followed the 'King' to the castle that was made of large sticks propped up against a wall that had lichen speckled across it, inside was a blanket laid across two large tree stumps for a bed, and pots and pans most likely stolen from their mothers cupboards.
"Now make me my supper while I take a well deserved nap," The blonde child said as they lay upon the bed, while Arma begun scooping soil up with her fingers from the ground, the dirt embedding itself underneath her fingernails, so much so that it felt as if it were about to lift the nails from their beds.
As she did this she looked at the spoilt King laying in his bed, her eyes narrow and brows almost touching her upper lid. Why is it I am always the peasant? Just because my family is poor and Martina's are not? One day I hope I become king and I can make her into a mud pie Arma thought to herself as she placed the soil into the pan and began mashing it up with a stick. Anyway my family are witches and I'm sure if I asked mama nicely she would turn Martina into a mud pie.
Arma then took the mud out of the pan and began moulding it in her palms, into a mud pie, before placing it on a chipped plate and walking over to Martina who lay uncomfortably on the logs.
"Your mud pie King Martina," Arma said as she handed her the plate.
Martina sat up and inspected the mud pie, pulling a stray leaf that was poking from it and throwing it on the floor.
"Hmmmm Peasant I think that this is not too my taste, make another," Martina said as she handed Arma back the plate.
Arma stared at Martina, as deep within her body something felt as if it was awaking; a writhing sensation deep within her bones that worked its way up to her face, like hundreds of bugs crawling through her.
Her face soon began to ripple. It felt as if the worms in the soil beneath her feet had crawled under her skin and were trying to escape. She dropped the plate with the mud pie on Martina's feet and felt her face, the worms brushing against her skin when they moved every few seconds. Her hearing muffled as if the worms had crawled inside her ear and she could only focus on this sensation.
"Peasant do you hear me!? Fetch me another mud pie! And go fetch some water to clean my feet!"
Arma's hearing returned, ringing as it did so, and she backed out the castle and ran back home, escaping her ruler; scared as to what had crawled under her skin.
"Mama! What are the worms under my skin, it hurts?" Arma yelled as she shut the rickety wooden door behind her, waking her grandparents up as they slept in their rocking chairs beside the struggling log fire.
"Oh my Arma, it's come sooner than I had thought," Arma's mother said as she knelt down before her and cradled her head in her palms.
"Will it happen again?"
"Yes."
"But I don't want it to, I want the worms out of me."
"Arma, it's what you are. You have seen me and your grandparents and such looking strange. Have you not?"
"Yes mama, you are witches."
"Well, so are you, a Hexenbiest to be exact, and those worms you felt are what happens before you turn into this," Arma's mother said as she rolled her head to the side, the worms beneath her skin moving under it before her face was transformed into grey rough skin, her jaw still attached to her skull, but the skin around it ripped apart exposing her teeth.
Arma stepped back a little, her eyes welled up, before her mother stoped woging.
"I don't want to look like that mama, I thought you only looked like that because you're old."
"Did you fully woge, or not?" Arma's mother said as she placed her hands upon Arma's shoulders.
"I don't know, I just felt the worms under my skin, it ached a lot," Arma said as she felt her face.
"Were you with anyone?"
"Martina, she made me angry, always making me the peasant in her games."
"Du totest besser die Kehrseite Moira," Arma's Grandmother said as she rocked back and forth in her chair, the legs creaking as they moved.
"Sie ist nur eine kind, mama, niemand wird ihr glauben, wenn sie es erzahlt," Arma's mother said back to her mother sternly, before looking back at Arma.
"Just don't go playing with Martina again, you understand? If you did not fully woge then it's fine, but if you get angry again, you may appear to her like I did to you."
"Maybe then she would let me be King."
"No, no, she would tell her parents, and we may end up in a bad situation Arma. You promise you won't go play with her again?"
"Yes mama, but when will the worms return?"
"Don't worry, but when they do, I'll be there ok," Arma's mother said as she hugged her daughter.
Arma didn't know whether to hate or love the worms, if she was to be a witch like her mama, then perhaps she could grant all the wishes she wanted, perhaps she could be king; she always wondered why her mama never casted a spell so they could move out of the damp crumbling house they were living in, but then again, she learned about the Salem witch trials at school, and perhaps it was best to keep it a secret.