The Makings of Evil

Chapter One - Murky Waters

I am surrounded by marble walls, night and day, day and night. Everywhere I look, all I see is white. Except for when I look down. Down is all black and murky. Down is where the water is. The murky water.

    The white walls aren't flat. There are ledges of various sizes. Some ledges have a ledge directly above while others don't have another until far higher up the wall. Each ledge is a perfect box. There are no jagged or circular ledges. That's what makes them so hard to climb, to climb up, out, and escape.

    Though I may be only seventeen years of age, I live alone with no other human contact. The walls make a narrow and tall ravine that I am forced to call my home. I have to jump from ledge to ledge, eating orange Jell-O like food that falls from somewhere high above. The black water scares me (I swear that I've seen tentacles just below the surface) and I'm not the smartest. I've been stuck in this stupid ravine for close to ten years and my vocabulary is very limited (not that I speak much), I don't know how to spell, my handwriting is absolutely horrible, and I don't have much common sense. The only clothes that I have are all black. Each time they grow small, a new pair falls with my food. I find it very, very strange. The only thing that I was able to salvage from when I was younger is a single black marker that is running very low on ink. There is sloppy writing on the walls, ruining the white with black streaks, about how much I missed my family (who I barely remember) and how much I hated this place. If I didn't like to sign my name so much when I first arrived, I probably would've forgotten it. Lilliana.

    All I am able to do is write on the walls, eat, and sleep. That's about it. Unless you count doing my business over the edge of a ledge into the water. Multiple times I have almost fallen in that way. I'm surprised I haven't died of boredom yet. I can't even remember why I'm here in the first place. All I know is that I have long, ratty blonde hair. Or is it brown? I haven't bathed in so long that I can't tell.

    So what could possibly be interesting about my dull life? Well, as it seems, I was about to find out.

    Today I planned to attempt to escape for the however-many-timth. But today, I felt different about my plan. I felt as if I could actually do it. All the other times, I didn't get too far and almost slid off of a ledge or done some other thing that could have killed me. Today would be different; I'd make history. Today I felt that I would actually escape from this Hell.

    I squatted on the largest ledge, the place I spent most of my time. I will see the light of day again, I told myself, and another living face.

    Slowly, I stood up and gazed upon the ledges far, far above. I squinted at them. I can do this, I thought, I can do this. I better do this. I reached for the ledge above. It didn't jut out as far as the one I stood on, so this would be an easy climb. If I did happen to fall, like I have before, I wouldn't fall into the water. I steadily hauled myself up. So far, so good. I was already proud of myself.