aureum beings 黄色ブドウ球菌

mission one; escape is vital.

        The cell became more and more of a coffin as the days passed by. The intense heat of New York City during the brutal summer month accumulated at the bottom of their prison, suffocating it's inhabitants each insufferable day and night. The cracks on the faded walls allowed wisps of cooled breeze to seep through, the only fresh air in that god forsaken cell. A ten by ten cell that was barely comfortable for the small family of three became their home. The consistent echoing screams of the damned became more and more of a regular occurrence, as the child, and her parents became completely numb to the cries for help. The rusted drain in the middle of the angled concrete ground covered with dried golden liquid served as a constant reminder to the hell hole that they were all trapped inside of.

The girl soon stopped asking when they would go home; it became evident to her after the first week that she wasn't. Her family was treated as humanely as possible; fresh clothes, cold showers, food that resembled the mangled carcass of apple sauce. On the other hand, her parents were dragged away daily; early in the morning, and shoved back into their cell at night, beaten down into hollow shells of their former selves. She didn't mind though, she was never bored; or alone for that matter.

     The girl spent her days drawing pictures on the walls and floors with the dried blood off the ground, making a paste with her spit. It was the only thing she had to entertain herself with, besides- the 'paint' was a lovely, sparkling golden color. How was she supposed to know it was blood? For her memories didn't span far, which was why The Man never bothered with her. He had a little girl himself, and had sworn to his own daughter that he would never touch the child, who mostly kept to herself. The Man's daughter brought the caged girl books, paper and markers, even her own dolls to play with. And for that, when you looked back at your time in that cell, you were grateful for.

     Each and every single time her father came back, dragged by his collar and thrown into the cell, hitting the ground roughly, covered in scrapes, scratches and bruises— he would smile. He would come back with gold dripping from his mouth, and he would still smile. He never failed to crack a grin at her and it made her poor heart somersault. It made something akin to hope blossom inside of her chest, warm, as it unfurled like a flower within. He would be beaten black and blue, and it was clear how much he suffered both mentally and emotionally, but he never ceased to pull your small self into his lap. Playing with her precious unmarked hands as she giddily spoke about her day, the new drawings she had created, the dreams she had experienced. Her young mind remained incorrupt, still youthful and capable of dreaming, of hoping. She began to think of the cell as some sort of vacation, for all she ever did was finger paint and draw, sing and play, giggle and ramble with the daughter of The Man through the coarse, cold bars of the cell door

Her mother, on the other hand, did not sugarcoat the situation they were all in. She never, ever did. Even before this, she was a stern, strict woman with rules she followed by, and a bleak, bland outlook on life. Whatever light or shine that used to sparkle in her eyes had died out like a match and it's flame the second they had all set foot onto Earth. Ever since they were forced to be people that they were not, into forms that were not their own. Somehow, by some god awful force of the universe, The Man found out who and what they all were. Because of this, they were forced to face the consequences of their own existence.

Late, late at night when they thought their precious little daughter was fast asleep, retired into a pleasant dream state, they fought. They fought, and they fought, and they fought. Her father's voice was always optimistic, always hopeful, never allowing the fatigue and the tired and the helplessness to ever show. The child's mother and her voice on the other hand was dull, devoid of any life, for she never allowed herself to dream, to wish. Once upon a time, her parents had loved each other, but it had been so long since the destruction of their home, since their desperation and need for survival allowed them to escape towards their settlement on Earth. The kidnapping, the torture from The Man— they couldn't remember if there really was a time it was just innocent, happy love.