BANE: avenge

Prologue

As I stealthily creep through the home, I feel an unfamiliar dread & guilt. I feel the cool breeze wafting through the open windows, & my body starts to shiver. Or was I, perchance, only shivering from the cold enclosed in myself? I feel so cold, cold as frozen steam in a winter storm, the cold, cloudily swirl-making in me, forming me, threatening to freeze over & never crack.

I glance down. My hands are slender, thin, & paler than usual for my dusky, olive skin. Suddenly, I notice the dagger concealed in the palm of my left hand, radiantly gleam-making in the dead of the darkness of everything, & gradually start to panic.

The anxiety rises, & I grow faint, the world growing hazy around me, as I struggle to keep a grasp on this strange world. My cogwheels slowing with the sudden, entrapping strain of the horror induced by... Induced by what, indeed?

Looking around, my face relaxes - peaceful-looking - almost childlike again, as it should be. Colourful swirls surround me, engulfing me, but one colour is clearer than the rest.

I look around in awe, my IEMP suddenly, exceedingly clear, frozen again as I feel the gears start to function, normal-doing again. I clearly see the unmistakable colour of blood. Crimson, dripping, languid-making, down the walls, swirl-making in the fog inside the home, puddle-making on the floor.

I look behind me, & behold! There are people, begging me, the terror plain-showing in their bodily postures, their facial expressions. I cannot recognize them, try as hard as I may. I attempt to run to them, but hopelessly fail, as they flinch away from me. The cold set in my frozen heart forbids me to move forward for that purpose, push-doing me towards them for quite another reason. Seeing their gazes, I turn around in the hopes that it is not truly me they are afraid of, perchance the monster is another.

I veer, despairing-feeling, knowing in my heart that the only fiend here is myself. Seeing no one, I clench my hands feel-doing in my left the weight that persists. I look down & see the blade, but this time, something is exceedingly different.

No longer is the dagger flawlessly brilliant. Oh, it still lustrously glimmers in the dark, but it is no longer perfect. Now, it is marred by the scarlet ribbons weaving down the blade, the specks of cruor spatter-making across my hand.

My heart clenches at the gore saturate-doing my hand & I endeavour to drop the burden, but the weight does not leave my grip.

Instead, I advance towards the terrified people, the weapon raised precariously, as they back into a corner, whimper-making, wail-making, & beg-doing.

My body is no longer expressly mine to control. It moves of its own will, or - perchance - that of another. My hand descends upon the desperate-sounding, howl-making people, &..

I awoke to the sound of yet another shindy. I carefully wiped my right hand against my right eye, which was quite steamed up this morning. I finished, being able to see slightly clearer through that eye, & listened to the din coming from downstairs.

"I say! This must be the fourth time this week, & it is yet Monday!" I thought aloud to myself.

Mama & my elder sister, Elle, had been quarrel-making almost continually since Mama brought the strange man hence.

I was not sure why. Why, he seemed a bit queer, I supposed, but aren't all adults somewhat queer towards children of my age?

"How peculiar." I said aloud.

Margaret had not yet come with my breakfast, to help me out of bed, & get me dressed. I was not sure I wanted Margaret to come & help me out of bed. I was quite comfortable hence, in the fluffy pillows & mattresses & such. No doubt the din was even louder outside.