Fragments

1

She looked up at the sound of a door screeching against the concrete, questions flooding her mind. She backed up further into her little corner, the place she spent the last three years. Her eyes stung as a light came shining through, watching as a figure was thrown in. She couldn't see the face or the reason for them being here, but she was overcome with relief and uncertainty of interacting with another human being. The figure slowly started to move and crept towards her, panic striking her mind. She thought they were done testing, the needles, the torture, the pain. Noises came from outside the door- voices. The sounds she hadn't heard of for the longest time. The figure turned and crept toward the wall, dragging in pain. The door started to close, her panic rising once more. She scurried towards the door hesitantly, continuing to press herself up against the wall. The door started to close, taking the sliver of hope she had with it. The greyness of the room returned as the light vanished as she slinked back to the corner. She tightened her knees to her chest, her mind burdened with regret once again.

She eyed the visitor in front of her, the clothes tattered and worn, with a piece of cloth wrapped around their face. She felt the gaze of the figure looming over her, both of them not making a sound. The figure sat in the opposite corner as her, their legs crossed. Hands crept up to their face, and around to the back of their head, a faint snapping sound echoed across the walls, seeming far louder than it should have. The cloth came off, revealing the face of a male, who seemed to be a little older than herself. His blue eyes lingered downward, his messy dark brown hair tossed in all directions. He had a scar running across the side of his forehead, and she wondered about the story behind it.

They both just sat in silence, not saying a word. Hearing someone else's breathing intoxicated her, adding more questions to her list. She could tell he was also studying her, his eyes drifting as she ran her fingers through her long, untamed, dark brown hair that fell past her shoulders. Her blue-green eyes shone against all the scars on her arms, legs, hands, neck, face, back, and hands. She wondered what he thought of her, all the questions he himself had.

She turned her eyes to her arms, counting all the marks again for the hundredth time. A sigh went through her as she turned to the left wall of the corner. Her hands brushed over the jagged stones and found a loose one, then pulled it out and set it next to her quietly. She reached her hand in and pulled out a sharp rock, a tattered notebook, a piece of charcoal, a pen, and a pencil. She moved along the wall and found an empty spot that didn't have anything on it. An image played around in her mind, a lost form of memory she wanted to keep. She took the pencil in her left hand, then started to sketch out what her mind saw- the elegant lines and shapes of something she faintly remembered. She moved gracefully, adding something in different parts as it was focused on in her mind. She took the charcoal, feeling the dusty substance transfer onto her hand, and added some shading, making it seem more and more recognizable. She finished and stepped away, the memory of childhood coming back to her.

She was walking to a window, the floorboards creaking under her, the cold crisp of rain seeping into everything. She looked up from her bare feet covered in smudges at a sound that cooed. She saw a magnificent bird, the feathers the color of the sea and sky. The rain made the bird stand out more, the droplets running off the smooth feathers. She reached out, feeling the rain on her arm as she moved to touch the bird, her hand lightly brushing its beak and feathers, a smile ran across her face, a rare movement for her to encounter. She heard someone yell, and the bird flew away, droplets shaking to the ground. She felt the prickle of fear in her chest as she realized it was the scream of her aunt, the only one who would take her in. She turned and ran, trying to keep her feet quiet against the cold floor. She sped down the stairs and down the hall, paintings and frames flashing by, her eyes caught snippets of them, all in ruins with holes piercing through the canvas. She slowed as she heard a commotion beyond a door, and pressed herself against the wall to listen. There was yelling and cursing, most of which came from Aunt... Mya, the name was foggy in her mind and a small part from a deeper voice. There was a loud noise, and the doorknob slowly turned. She backed away along the wall, still trying to listen. The knob stopped at the sound of a crash as if something had been thrown. There was an angry grunt followed by quick footsteps, aimed away from the door. The suspense was eating away at her, questions echoing in her mind. She felt angry and terrified, unsure of what to do. There was another loud grunt, mixed with some kind of metal clang. She slowly made her way back to the door and crouched to see through the keyhole. A buff man was standing with his back turned to her, Aunt Mya standing with a metal pole in her hand. They made eye contact, her chocolate spheres glazing over with a look of protection and final assurance. She mouthed a word, but the man caught the movement and turned around. He had scars all over him, with a piece of his shirt tied around a bleeding eye. He had a dusty light brown beard that was finely trimmed, stopping before coming off the chin. A tattered and expensive-looking suit matched his glaring expression, sending a prickle down her spine. He moved towards the door, but Mya whacked him across the back and shoulder, the sound echoing in their ears. He turned around and barked, "I've had enough with you." Reaching for his belt, he pulled out a gun. He aimed it right at her head, "Tell me where she is!" His yell screamed through the air.