"YOU THINK A RAGGEDY TEAM OF FREAKY TEENAGERS ARE GONNA FIX THIS?"
Life for Annabelle has been a whirlwind of emotion for her as she struggles through her tumultuous grief and deep unearthed trauma. Settling in the new Avengers facility with Tony a...
" there aren't enough rooftops in the world to scream to you how sorry i am. " ( Unknown )
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THE MOST HAUNTING THING ABOUT NIGHTMARES, IS THAT THEY ARE FORMED FROM THE SAME ORGAN WHICH IS SUPPOSED TO SHIELD YOU FROM DANGER. One side of the mind creates the dream, the other experiences it. And what's left is a wonderfully horrific cocktail of fear, doubts, regret, and often real life.
Dreams for Annabelle aren't the kind made of devilish witches who cast magical spells, or dangerous dragons breathing fire. Nor are they the kind made from watching a horror film late at night. No, Annabelle's night terrors are based off of real events that she experienced in her young fourteen years.
It was cold in the dark facility. The windows serve as no form of comfort between the girls and the outside world. Trees surrounded the academy like black, hulking masses acting as night guards in the dark. Menacing clouds surround the night air anywhere the trees weren't. Dense and suffocating, they only seemed to trap the distinct aura of death wafting from the grounds. The only white or sign of brightness from outside, is the blankets of freshly powdered snow. Each snowflake landing anew on a surface, morphed into dozens which laid the whole facility in a blanket of devious warmth.
The Red Room academy is not known for being hospitable or warm. It's only a matter of time in which the truth spews out, fresh crimson rising from the iced water, turning the ground a dizzying shade of red. That's the truth, innocent children died here. Little girls and little boys are turned into killers. Each of them morphed into a sinister killing machine of perfection: a monster.
When Annabelle awoke from her once dreamless sleep, she found herself pinned to a bed. Handcuffs are tied on each of her wrists and there is the constant ache on her hands, the knowledge of metal eroding flesh. She couldn't seem to breathe as a billow of thick shivering vapor flew past her quivering lips, choking her with a kiss of death. Time stood still. Annabelle trembled.
The only noise besides her own anxious filled breaths, were those of her fellow classmates. Curt and shallow, Annabelle aimlessly watched as mellow gray hazes floated to the peeling and stained ceiling. There was water protruding from the tan fabric above, thick frigid droplets fell atop her sweat-filled sheets and drenched them in coldness.
Annabelle still couldn't breathe and her chest seemed to contort and twist on itself even more everytime the chilled air fell past her peeling lips. Fresh tears gathered along her bottom lash line, attempting to elude the lush hairs and spill like poisonous streaks along her cheeks. The girl's skin is so pale that it's almost translucent, the only sign of life in her petite form is the marks of marred bleeding skin and poisonous bruises lining nearly every square inch of her body.
The girl feels her eyelids snap closed and the salty tears still plugging her haunting blue irises feels hot against her clammy skin. She doesn't want to breathe, let alone move on her bed and try to get away from the manacles. Her chest is still smarting from Tatiana's attack on her. The blonde had kicked her in the chest with her pointe shoe only a few weeks ago and the lasting damage has been several broken ribs. The girl irrationally worried that if she dared to take an intake of breath, that the sharp tips of her fractured bones will dig into the tender pink flesh of her lungs. Blood would submerge internally from the trauma and she would be dead in minutes.
