Dawn upon Death and Destruction

Chapter 4

Song- The secret history, The chamber orchestra of London.

The commander was sitting there, he who had been the first face Amara had looked at after her first whipping, as if he didn't have a care in the world. slouched back into one of the two velvet armchairs placed in the room. Amara felt her hatred radiate off her in waves, and as she ground her teeth against each other, she looked up, keeping her chin high, and met the eye of her enemy. How peaceful he was, sitting there without a single worry, without a single scar. She'd make him pay, she'd make him pay if it was the last thing she did.

The doctor pushed the wheelchair into the room and she wanted nothing more than to ask the kind woman to turn the chair around and take her back to the ivory room she was in before. This room was different than the other. It was more brown. Other than the two armchairs, there was a blazing fireplace, a wooden table, and two longer couches lined with tasseled cushions.

"Hello there Amara, glad to see you're doing better."

His mouth twisted into an off-putting smirk and the way he said her name made her feel uneasy, although she knew it wasn't the way it was said more who had said it. His eyes lingered on her as if knowing what she was thinking, as if knowing the effect he had on her and wanting to revel in every second she was uncomfortable. The wheelchair came to a stop right opposite Claeg's chair.

Her eyes roamed around the table -  there were scattered papers, pens and various other items - until they met his again. A sudden urge to slap the man came to her. She wanted him to feel the pain he had caused her, all the nights spent sleeping on her stomach due to the raw wounds , wishing she had something to ease the pain, to help heal them, what was he doing then? Eating and playing cards with the overseers? The memories were too much to bring them to the front of her mind, so Amara shook her thoughts away as she zoned back into the conversation that she didn't even know she had left.

Claeg stuck his hand out to shake and Amara tensed. As if sensing her reluctance, the doctor separated the fist she unknowingly made and whispered in her ear.

"It's fine he's just shaking your hand."

Amara wanted to laugh, the woman didn't know that she wasn't scared, she didn't know that she wanted to grab his throat with her bare hands and cut off his supply of air, she wanted to see the life leave his eyes, for him to beg. She tried to stop the urge and put a hand out to meet his. His touch made her insides cringe in disgust and she showed her clear discomfort on her face. His smirk widened into a grin and he started to speak.

"I'm guessing that you're here to ask questions aren't you?"

With gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, she managed to spit an answer out with as much venom as she could muster.

"Yes, I am."

"Ooh somebody has a bite don't they? Don't worry you won't have to see me for long." The commander chuckled. " You'll get your answers."

"What is this place?" she asked, eyeing the paintings on the walls with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the commander replied back teasingly. Amara was growing more and more agitated by the second.

"Don't answer a question with a question." Her voice came out gritty and threatening.

The commander chuckled again. What was it with him and chuckling? Amara shot him a menacing glare and he calmed himself down.

"Welcome to Plattsvield, Miss Da'Reer, home of the rebels."

Surprise shone through her bottle green eyes, she had heard of the rebel compound in stories. Memories flashed in front of her; fires blazing in the winter, whispers of old tales from her father, watching how his eyes gleamed with pride at the words. Emotion struck her and she longed for the comforting feel of the cold against the heat of the flames. She clamped it down focusing on Claeg's words.