The theory of flowers

Twelve

Her wrists hurt, cold metal digging into her skin. She felt like her head might split open from a headache but she couldn't tell if it was because of the crying or because of the contact her head had made with the concrete wall when her brother threw her to the ground. Her throat felt sore from all of the screaming and she learned the hard that the basement was soundproof. Not to mention, they lived in the middle of nowhere, and no one would come to rescue her even if they heard her. She was alone in this and she mourned the loss of her sister but also, to another degree, the loss of her freedom. Her limbs still felt weak and she wanted to cry again but her eyes couldn't take another salty drop rolling down her cheeks. They were too dry, too used, too sensitive, that she couldn't cry again.

She wanted to lay down but she couldn't seem to find a position comfortable enough so she stayed seated. At this moment, she thought about Arlecchino and her perfect face. What would the harbinger do in this situation? The answer to that was simple, she would fight but y/n was so weakened by the drugs that she had trouble walking without her muscles aching. That was without mentioning that her vision had been taken from her. Had she intended to leave she would've protected it but she was deceived. She let her guard down and now she was here without anyone else.  She wanted to see her sister again and to apologize for not having been there to protect her. She also wanted to see Arlecchino, to hold her in her arms and for the harbinger to caress her hair like she had done before. She missed her scent and the sound of her heels clinking when she walked, she didn't want to die without having seen Arlecchino again.

After being left solely with her thoughts, she almost forgot her predicament. However, she was quickly reminded when her father burst through the basement door, startling her.

"Y/n, why did you have to go there?" He asked her, treating her like a child despite her grown age.

"You killed her-" she tried to say but was cut off by her father.

"Now, don't be like that." He said, walking toward her slumped form. "You know all I want is for us to be a family again," he added, towering over her.

"Don't ruin it y/n," he said, grabbing her jaw forcefully so that she would have to look at him. "Now get up, I'm not done with you," he said roughly letting go of her jaw and bending down to unlock her restraints.

She didn't move for a few seconds, feeling like the world was crashing down on her but she didn't have the time to feel pity for herself because the man gripped her wrist and pulled her up. Cyrus led her daughter to the sleeping chair and tied her down. Y/n who had seemly been in a daze snapped out of it and started thrashing around and screaming. Her father who had had enough of her antics slapped her hard enough to stun her so that he would be able to inject the sleeping solution into her veins. A few seconds later her movements slowed and she felt her eyes closing by themselves. She saw visions upon visions and when she was back to reality, she couldn't find the strength to move. Her father greeted her back with a large smile and rewarded her for her hard work with a large bed and a fridge full of food. Despite his act of kindness, it didn't stop him from chaining her wrist once more.

Because of the drugs, she didn't have it in her to protest any further so she obliged. She stayed obedient for a few days and her father told her that the next week he would remove the shackles. She couldn't find it in herself to be grateful because she only felt emptiness and pain. She let her fate carry on and didn't try to bother refusing, there was no point anymore.

She was lying on the bed after a particularly tiring session and suddenly someone burst through the door. She thought she had started hallucinating when she saw a familiar woman standing atop the stairs that led to the basement.