Not a Clue

Off Again

She woke up on a metal bed. She was so used to waking up in a cell that it didn't surprise her that there were bars.
She got up and touched the bars. The cell was different from the other times. It wasn't so big, it this cell didn't have a toilet (instead there was a hole), this cell was worse.
She could hear cries in the corner. The twitching of legs. The madness.
Emery walked up to the boy and flipped back his hair away from his face.
She gasped and took a step back, "Emeran?"

~.*.~

"What are we to do with the girl?"
"Kill her. Wait. Torture her."
Emma was happy to torture the girl. She deserved it. She was an imposter to this nation. She had kissed her brother. She would pay. No one will love her brother. He is mad. He cannot live much longer.
"I'd be-" she glanced at the door that led to the cell, "happy."
The next thing she knew she was tearing her long nails into Emery's skull. She was enjoying the screams of pain. She was liking the hurt. The blood.
But she could not kill her, Emma thought.
But she could just say it was an accident...