Shattered (Completed)

Chapter 8 - Lots to Say

(Still her past. Bear with me.)

Alex wakes to threatening cold. She shivers and sits up, sitting her back against the metal wall and looking around. The room is about five feet tall. Her breath comes out in a white fog of air. 

"Alexandria Griffon," says a voice above her. 

Startled, Alex looks up. There must be speakers - how else would  a voice come from the sky?

Slowly, Alex's eyes skim the room before she answers. Metal room. Bolts and screws everywhere, showing that the room is really just metal pieces stuck together. And then at the very top, there's one big plastic pipe that is producing the cold air. The speakers are no where to be seem.

Without a seconds pause, Alex darts to her feet, pulls off her hoodie, and stuffs it into the pipe. Sure, she was colder, but it was worth it to stop the blow. A harsh shiver traveled through her body.

"Alexandria Griffon. This is Florence," This makes Alex stop in place. She looks around and waits for more. "Lovely. I have your attention. Now, I can see you've already stopped the flow of cold air. Brilliant. Now - "

"G-Grandpa, why are you here? Please get me out," Alex's hands were already shaking violently from the lingering cold. She felt dead already. "Please, it's really, really cold."

"I know, Aria." he says softly, "I know, sweetie. So just bare with me, honey." There's a pause. When Alex says nothing, he continued. "You have to get out of here. I can only talk to you for five minutes, and I have three left. Now, you see the switch  on the floor? You have great eyes. You can do this. Just look around for - "

"Found it," Alex says, crouching beside it. It was so small she could barely see it, but certainly there. "Do I flip it?"

"Oh. . . Yes, Aria. Flip that switch and you'll be free. I love you, dear. Don't forget th - "

There was the sound of a bullet firing. A deep grunt. And then the sound of someone heavy hitting the floor. Silence followed. There was no more gun fire. No more talking. No more warmth from a single voice. No more comfort from a single man. Nothing more.

"G. . . Grandpa?" asks Alex quietly. She clenches her fists tightly, slumping against the wall. Her mind and heart race. Her fingernails dig into her palm. She's probably bleeding, but there's a ringing that blocks out everything else.

Someone taps the mic. It echos through the ringing and comes out dull, absent. "Hello?"  asks a new voice. This is a female, soothing and somewhat high. "Alex. Please, listen to me and remain calm. Currently we have a team coming in to give you some medicine so that you calm down a bit more. Don't worry. Your grandfather - "

"Is dead," Alex finishes flatly. 

A sharp wind whistled through the room. It was warm and soothing, yet it flipped the switch without Alex having to touch it. The switch not only flipped but tore completely off the floor. The door slammed up, opening from the ground. The wind didn't stop there. It threw the door off its hinges, smashing against the wall. But Alex didn't care. These people had killed her grandfather. They needed to pay. She didn't know how she was doing it, but she was doing it. And she would do it until they knew their place.

 "He's dead because of you God-awful people," she continues, walking with heavy steps through the door and out. She can't even take in her surroundings, but she knows she's in a dark blue room. There's glass windows everywhere. 

The wind follows her. It whips her hair around and shatters glass. She doesn't care. This will happen. They will die. They will pay. They will suffer. They will regret.

Many people rush in carrying guns and wearing heavy armor. A drill sounds, but the ringing blocks it out. The ringing blocks it all out. They aim their guns at her. One picks up a radio from his belt and begins to say things into it, but it's quickly snatched from his hand by air. He stumbles back as more air pushes him, and in one final harsh gust, he's dead against the wall. 

"He's dead because you brought me here," Alex says. Gun fire. But she can hardly hear it. 

Bullets race towards her, all aiming for her heart, her brain, her leg, something. All of them bounce off a shield of pure air. They hang in the air, now aimed at the men that fired, the very men that held the bullet once to give it to the gun. The very men that will die by their own medicine. 

Many cower. They run away, wimps and cowards. Those that remain stare the bullets head on. Some shout words Alex can't hear because of the ringing. 

And then, with a small grunt, Alex thrusts her hand out. The bullets that once tried to find her try to find the men that fired them. They all find their target. Twenty men hit the floor. Dead. By their own devices, by their own weapons. 

And all Alex can do is scream, clutching her head, as silence now fills the air. The ringing will not stop. She crumples to her knees, tears streaming from her eyes. The ringing will not stop. It's overpowering. She can't think. Her vision is blurring and smudging together. She can't hear the patter of feet. She can't feel the needle gently pressed into her neck. She can't feel the hands grasp her and lift her up. She can't struggle. 

She can hear the small words, "I'll wake you up, Aria." whispered into her ear by a familiar lip and tone. "I'll wake you up. I promise you. I love you."

And she can't smile as her world goes black.

"She's dangerous," he murmurs. His eyes are green. His hair is brown. His skin is as dark as pepper. "We need to kill her,"

"We can't,"  Lindsay reminds him quietly. She glances at the man before going back to scribbling on the clipboard in her hand just to avoid eye contact. "She's only seven. She's defenseless right now. We either kill her in a dual, or we give her the Downing for. . . life. Until she dies of age, naturally. Killing her now isn't law approved."

The man glares at her. "Are you telling me what to do?" he asks, raising a curious eyebrow. "Because I can sure as hell tell you what to do, but you can't tell me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Lindsay says quickly. "I'm sorry, sir." She chews on her lip, then adds, "Those are our only options, though. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. . . We want to be legal, but we also want to be smart. If she's asleep for all her life, she can't do damage. Just. . . Please, John." She instinctively flinches. Saying his name was wrong - it was only ever 'sir.'

"You," he begins softly, quietly, looking the blond-haired scientist over.  He pauses for a while. "You're right. Give her the Downing."

"Yes, sir," Lindsay says, happy to have her idea be used. "Right away."

"A girl that can control wind, read minds, and Lord knows what else. . . Well, she needs to be captivated." He pauses and thinks some more. "Never, ever wake her up."