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Cherubic-Defect — Chapter one v0.5
Published: 2009-03-21 17:34:36 +0000 UTC; Views: 191; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 4
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Prologue [Rinoa’s PoV]: Cartridges and ChambersEchoes of footsteps were the only sound that kept the madness at bay. The knowledge that there was someone else alive in the world of steel and curtains that formed her prison, it stayed her hands from slipping around the delicate flesh at her neck. As the footsteps came closer, her breath would slow, almost halt completely. She would never breach the silence with any utterance, she was content enough knowing she wasn’t always alone in her embellished prison cell. Silk and lace were strewn about the place lending an otherwise pitch black room a gauzy luminance. At the age of eight, beginning her second year in this place, her colorless eyes had finally begun to adjust to the lack of a proper light. The fuzzy forms of where the fabric draped was enough to allow herself to find her way to the toilet, or the second most important place for the girl; the door.
A sudden dull clang of steel tray upon steel floor and the scrape of that tray sliding through the gap in the bottom of the door would prompt her to prop her nude form up on her elbows and stare intently through the black hair draping across her face. She would wait until the footsteps would begin once more before daring to make even the slightest movement. That wait was counted out silently as four seconds, and then rhythmically, identically, routinely, the steps paced away into what the girl could only assume to be nothingness. She was alone once again.
Drawing her naked body across the floor towards the tray, she swam through the layers of fabric drifting across her body, like the waves of the ocean in the dead of the night sky. Upon the tray, the same food as always would be placed upon it, the rising steam smelling delicious. The evaporating molecules brought scent of a warm meal to the girl’s nostrils and carried the phantom taste to her tongue. Potatoes, ham, broccoli, bread, all of it smothered in warm butter. There were two utensils on either side of the tray, fork and knife. The completion of the meal would be brought later in the form of a glass of tasteless, vitamin infused water.
She ate silently and without sense of hunger or fulfillment. She ate because some primal part of her knew it was necessary to stay alive, as little as that meant to her fragile mind. Mostly she ate out of habit.
After the ten minute process of food to fork to mouth and then to stomach, the fork and knife were placed back where they had originally been and the tray gently pushed away. After moments of simply sitting, staring straight ahead, the girl’s body tilted sideways and as her head hit the cushioned steel floor, she drifted off into sleep.
Dreams filled with the sound of gunfire, screams, and laughter, wrapped her in a cocoon of dark comfort, blocking out the sounds of returning footsteps, retrieval of the tray, and placing of her after meal beverage. Her index and ring fingers reflexively curled open and closed.
A terrible smile etched its way across her face and the girl sighed peacefully and whispered:
“Rinoa.”
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