The Wings of Nevermore

Escape of Woe

Escape of Woe.

¡TRIGGER WARNING!

(A/n: bare with me; hopefully the writing gets better as it goes, btw I didn't proofread, so expect horrific writing- feel free to criticize or whatever, but no full-on loathe-hate)

Briana giggled as she chased her mother around the room, screeching as she skidded a corner. Today was her eighth birthday. Stopping to catch her breath, Bri heard the screeching of tires outside, signaling her Father was home. He smiled brightly as he walked inside. Mother stopped chasing Bri and went over and wrapped him in a hug. Bri saw the knife before mother did. She heard the sound of blade cutting flesh as he plunged the metal into Mothers stomach. She heard the sound of mother hitting the floor. She heard the sound of her very own screams. Father walked over to her and grinned. He then grabbed her elbow, yanking her towards him, and they fled the scene of the crime.

Years later...

Bri tried not to sit on the dust. She didn't want to get her new wounds infected. The window behind her offered her enough light to arrange herself as neat as she could on the worn-out, bloody sheet. She was in a stone room, in the basement- she was lucky that the window was just above ground, otherwise she would have no idea of the time. Today, Father had used his favorite dagger. He often used it when he cut her back, shoulders, and thighs. It was her least favorite. She had at least a hundred scars on each main part of her body; legs, arms, back. Father was getting more and more impatient every day, but she didn't know what he wanted from her. Not until around three months ago, after he left the room. Her back started to ache, it felt like it was on fire. Then, while she was sobbing quietly, wings had sprouted from her back. They were bleeding, but had healed themselves and the new scars she had gotten that day. She never knew she had them. But she did know that's probably what father wanted. She had no idea how they worked, though she presumed they at least had something to do with healing, or she would have bled quite a lot that day.

Outside the window it was dark. The stars and moon clear in the sky. She guessed it was around her fifteenth or sixteenth birthday, so she had been here ten years, almost. She often practiced math and words in her head, in case she ever made it back to real life.. Mother had consistently taught her numbers and vocabulary, despite how young Bri had been. Mother was the best.

Bri gently touched her wounds on her legs; long, thin gashes. Just enough to scar over. She guessed he did that so it was excruciatingly painful and didn't cause any long-term damage, he wouldn't want her to die before her time. Knowing that father wouldn't be back till morning, she shakily took off the thin cloth of a shirt. She heard gunshots in the distance, like usual, and it pained her. She ignored it. Gritting her teeth, she concentrated, holding back a yell as she felt her wings sprout from her skin. Cheese, it hurt worse than last time. A pair of multi-colored red, orange and yellow wings appeared on her back. They had a glow to them, like a candle, or fathers match. He sometimes heated the blade with a lighter. The wings shuddered slightly as she slowly stretched them out.

And darn, that felt good. Looking at each wing, she noted that each was about six feet long. Shakily standing up, Bri took a deep breath and groaned. Her wings weren't heavy but darn, her legs hurt. Once she found her balance, Bri lifted up her wings and turned her head to properly see them. They were beautiful. The red wasn't a blood red, more like a cherry color. The yellow was like mustard and the orange like a sunset. Bri smiled for the first time in...years. She almost felt free. Almost. She wanted to be able to fly, get away from this old, gross room. She didn't realize her wings started to subconsciously curl around her.

She did realize, though, when she felt herself start to heat up. She felt like she was on fire. Soon she was sweating, and no matter how hard she strained her muscles, they- the wings- wouldn't uncurl from around her.