Mad | ✔ | GB+SB

Chapter Seventeen

Sorry for the longish wait! I still don't have my device back...

Hopefully, by now, you all will have noticed the connections between Sang and a certain long blonde haired, green-eyed princess locked in a tower by someone called Gothel...

Axel

Sang is one of the most unusual people that I have ever met. I just wish I had met her under better circumstances. Being kidnapped is never a good way to meet someone.

During our time together, Sang had asked me my favorite color, whether or not I was the reincarnation of Pocahontas, and why I was so open to merging my team with the Blackbourne team and losing my rank. I learned that Pocahontas is one of the two movies Sang has ever seen in her life, Sang has two twin sisters, and she is incredibly socially awkward. Sang, so overwhelmed with her everything, apparently kept cutting the conversations short, even to the point of leaving Gabriel without even taking her turn.

After my turn with Sang, I learned even more. I learned just how broken this bird is. An hour after her broken voice gave out, her lips finally stopped moving and she collapsed to the ground.

An animal, feral scream breaks free from my body at the sight. The feeling of watching someone in trouble, in pain, and so damaged is the worst. I know that I could help, at least comfort her, if only I could reach her. But I can't. None of us can.

Eventually, Karen walks in and sees Sang lying on the ground. At the sound of the door, our heads all swivel to see who it is and begin pleading with Karen to help Sang.

Drawing near, Karen curls her lip and asks, "Was the bitch singing again?"

All of us alarmed, Owen speaks for us stating, "Sang was singing, yes."

Karen rolls her eyes and exits the room ignoring our shouts.

"Karen!" I yell, even though I am most certainly not one for shouting. "Come and get her! You have to help Sang!"

I am past tears, having run out only a few hours into her singing. It is a good thing that we are locked up, otherwise, we probably would've gone after Nathan long ago. Our shouting got him to confess the conversation. Let's just say that none of us are too pleased with him.

It seems all we can do these days is shout. It is awful feeling this helpless and not being able to do anything. To see Sang in such a condition so broken and not able to fix her. To lunge and lunge but never be able to reach her. To shout and not have her hear you. To see her in so much pain and anguish and not be able to console her and assure her that everything will be alright. To see her struggling alone but not be able to tell her that she is not alone.

Sang will never be alone again, for as long as we can help it.

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Sang

Groggily, I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes to see an angry and pacing Karen.

"Finally, you're up!" Karen exclaims, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "I am tired of babysitting you! Figure this stuff out with your stinking family! And see a shrink, for goodness sake!"

I blink.

Am I still dreaming?

I thought that Karen was kinda nice...?

Karen, seeing my confusion, scoffs, "You think I actually liked you? I only was nice to you so I could rise in the ranks! But that isn't happening, is it?! Next time you pass out, you're going to have to hope someone helps you because it won't be me."

Wait. She thought she was actually nice? Maybe I just have a terrible misconception of what nice truly is.

I shrug and hop off the cot. Walking out of the room, I ignore Karen who is ranting angrily about things that I don't care enough about to listen to.

I am confused as to how I got there, but I shrug that off too. I just hope that nothing happened to me while I was unconscious. Vaguely, I remember speaking to the boys and then Nathan set me off and I started singing until I finally sunk into sleep, too overwhelmed and broken to even stay awake.

Yawning slightly, I slip into my room and shower and dress in Mother's favorite dress, a long, overdone, frilly, lace, white dress that makes me feel like some sort of creepy bride. I slip on old and comfortable shoes since no one will be able to see my feet through the enormous skirt. Sitting on the stool for my elegant vanity, I wait patiently for Mother. If I am anywhere except the chair when she comes in, Mother will get mad. After all, dolls don't move themselves.

An hour and a half later, Mother throws open the door and stumbles into my bedroom.

"There's my little doll," She cooes. "Hand me the brush, doll."

With precise and graceful movements, I hand her the hated brush.

Yanking it through my hair, Mother gains a dreamy expression and listens to my singing. When I falter, Mother swiftly smacks me with the brush until I am able to resume my song without fault. The singing is never the same when it is for Mother, when she forces me to sing. My voice is husky from use and Mother doesn't like that, she wants me to always sing with a high and clear childlike voice, so I am careful with everything I do to not set her off and make her even more angry with me.

Mother sets the brush down and grips my face with her hand. Squeezing my face, she looks at me and turns my face side to side, as if inspecting it.

"Little doll, I wonder what your maker looked like. Father certainly didn't give you a lot of your traits. If your maker weren't already dead, I would be able to hunt her down using your mimicked looks. Do you know what I would do if I found your maker, little doll?"

I shake my head as much as I can with her tight hold.

Mother grins widely, showing all her teeth and gets a distant look on her face and declares, "First, I would tie her to a chair, sort of like what I do often with you. Then, I would hunt down each and every person dear to her, everyone who she comes in contact with. I would torture and kill them in front of her, one at a time, enjoying their screams and filling the room with blood so the stage is set for your maker. Then I would slice little grooves and scratches in her hideous skin. Maybe I will disfigure her face like I did yours... Once my torture is complete, I will tie her down to the floor and leave her, alone, to drown in the blood. Does that sound like a good idea, little doll?"

I nod, knowing that all of Mother's ideas are good ideas.

Satisfied, Mother grins again and stumbles out of the room mumbling about her medications.

Truly, I absolutely agree that it is a genius idea.

Now I know just what I plan on doing to Mother if I ever get free of this tower.