Amelia ☾ [L. Ackerman X OC]

Eighty Two

WOW! Thank you all so much for 90K reads! I am shocked my story ever reached such a high level- I appreciate your support!

I also apologize for the slow updates. My schedule is insane this semester, so I will likely be posting every other week instead.

Thank you all so much, and enjoy :)

Amelia's vision remained hazed, blurred figures standing beside a dark foggy aperture, one she'd concluded was both the entrance and exit. Attempting to recollect where she currently rested (if such a word could be used), Amelia identified the bubbling panic in her chest. Her mind encouragingly coerced her into a 'fight' mode so her 'flight' would surface.

Calm down, she poorly soothed, mentally chanting the phrase. Ultimately, when this effort failed, she decided she should instead utilize the relaxation technique she'd created from a certain rainy evening.

She blinked, as if this desperate action possessed a magical ability to repair the new dilemma she faced. Her sight, she deduced, took some damage- hopefully temporarily. The distorted view hadn't improved, though Amelia identified the outline of gleaming, yet rusted silver bars blocking her in the small cell.

The walls were tightly secured with cement and stone, a flickering light providing the space with a contradictory gentle illumination. Her burdensome body sluggishly lay on the ground, a twin bed sat in the 'dwelling's' corner. A thin, dirtied sheet and flat pillow neatly perched on the seemingly uncomfortable mattress.

She couldn't taste anything in particular. The air appeared thick, stale, and musky- not the most pleasing blend. The environment itself felt bleak and funereal, they complimented each other. This also covered smell, she'd noticed; the description falling into the aroma category. However, there was an exception; a smoky undertone infused in the unsavory mixture, likely due to the candle's calm flame.

Amelia heard low murmurs, her attention seeking (and succeeding in discovering) the two guards adjacent from her cell. He ears rang, hindering her capability to catch the words that escaped their racing mouths.

Her spine directly pressed against the coarse pavement, the natural coolness seeping through the tarnished white sweater she'd borrowed. Amelia noted that the previously pure fabric was now messy and, metaphorically, corrupt. The fact enticed a frown, her lips curving downward in in umbrage. She simply couldn't return it in its current condition. Still, the material softly wrapped around her cold yet damp tanned skin.