The Rose: Torn of the Tormented

Chapter 3 - Nameless E

The hollow chuckling bounced off the purple walls that caged the young girl. Azaleas was sat against the base of her four post bed, knees curled up to her chest. She was vulnerable, both mentally and physically, completely naked with a towel draped crosswise across her bare shoulders. Auburn locks twisted in natural waves down the sides of her sickly pale cheeks. The clock on her bedside table read seven AM, but in this state, she wanted to crawl into the safety of her bed, wrap herself up to resemble a sausage roll and hiss at the radiant daylight that simply mocked her through the open window resembling that of her prison guard taunting for humiliation. With yet to take the routine morning shower before class the brief memories of the previous night haunted her vision once again. Those should do's, could do's tallied up in her intelligent cranium, yet overpowering logic, a prodding instinct pounded against the gut in an attempt to break out. That trusted feeling told her to check the laptop that had been neatly rested where lipstick stained glass bet the wood of her teddy-decorated desk. A cracked pixelated image of her own window left upon a video recorder linked into the system from the abuse suffered only 5 hours ago. A click of the mouse was the single action required to replay the unwelcomed visit of the Experiment. After a deep exhale of fearfulness fleeing her mental state an unsteady finger clicked 'play'.

"Helllooo. Thank you for waking up my dear Lea. You are so confused. That's okay. Confusion is what makes humanity." The female upon the screen would be chuckling in her immature tongue. "Don't be scared. You are destined for great things. We are partners now, you need me. So, if we are going to do this little angel, shall we do this right?" This was when the figure would leap backward in the direction of her desk, resting the laptop how it was former to the transformation scene. That fluffy bunny hoodie leaned over the camera to show the naked waist of the intruder for at least thirty seconds of camera rolling time. The well formed, symmetrical archfiend as the ruby red lipstick left its deadly mark in the nightmare of Azaleas head. "These pretty numbers on the mirror is coordinates. Your gonna go there for me, and this relationship of ours can bloom like an apple blossom tree. Okay, I'm hungry, I will see your pretty face in the morning. And do not worry, becoming you again will hurt far less than becoming me. You will merely ache in the morrow. Take care my dearest Lea." The heteromorphic form removed herself from her moonbeam spotlight, the camera becoming a window to the young orange-tops memory.She waited with the laptop within her bare lap, the timer ticking up the seconds with the rolling film. Azalea wanted to see her return, to have some recognition of that murder actually happened. But no. The video cut out completely, not allowing her to even witness how the Experiment reformed into a being of her control.

She moved the laptop to the side as she stood up, walking to the mirror to look at the numbers left for her in beautiful script. No. No way. There was no way Azalea was going to slip to a low where she did as one of those E's asked. The girl lunged forward, pulling the fluff off her towel from her body to scrub the numbers away in hopes that her problems would hurry away. Leaving the oily pink smear across the glass, her towel was pulled tight into her chest and hobbled towards the bathroom, aches and pains stinging the majority of her violently abused body. Damien spotted her in the corridor, as far as she knew he was coming out of his room, but it was quite the opposite. He had been outside. Listening to the video conversation. Eyeing her up and down she looked back to the other, stood mimicking deer in headlights. "Wanking on skype again are we? Tut tut Lea, what have I told you about..." The male was cut up by an bothered baby cousin who, at this point, didn't give a flying fuck about his bullshit.

"Shut the fuck up, Damien." She huffed as she continued onwards to the bathroom. The bath was relaxing upon her tender joints. Soaking the lavender scented oils into her pores. Was it real? Or was it a dream? Then again, how can a dream end half way through the morning? That video. That was there, on her laptop for another viewing to probe at her disbelief. As was a smudge of lipstick. But there was something that bothered her curiosity. "Damien!" She called out for her guardian who, upon hearing her, moved to stand outside the closed bathroom door. "After our movies last night, Did you go out?"