Autumn trailed her fingernails over the light blue walls of the enormous room she found herself in. The paint peeled off the walls and got stuck under her nails, but that was the least of Autumn's worries... Her current situation was far, far worse. Running her hands through her long auburn hair, she sighed deeply. She dropped her hands to her sides and stared at the door miserably; she would undoubtedly have to leave soon... Something cold and wet nuzzled her hand, making her glance down.
"Get out of here, Spice." She muttered, wincing at the pain in her shoulder.
The dog whined and pushed itself up against Autumn's legs. She smiled lightly, crouching down to be on the same level as the beast. Spice looked at her thoughtfully then gave her a big, wet lick. He barked and thumped his tail on the grimy carpet.
"Thanks." Autumn groaned, wiping her face with the back of her hand and momentarily forgetting about the intense throbbing pain in her shoulder. Wincing once more, she stood back up and paced around the room under the watchful pale grey eyes of Spice.
Spice was a huge dog. Not just your average "big dog" such as a Labrador or a Dalmatian, he was HUGE. His fur was thick and white with brown patches often shaped as hearts. As much as she hated admitting it, Spice was her one and only friend in all of this. Her loyal companion: the one who would be there until the end. She loved him to pieces. The two of them founded a team wittily named "Autumn Spice". This name reminded Autumn of her childhood, an old friend who passed away when she was thirteen had once said, whilst they were lounging beside the swimming pool playing Truth or Truth -they were too scared of eachother's dares to play Truth or Dare-, that if Autumn was a food, she would be the most spicy and interesting food known to man, something that would leave the best after-taste ever. Something that tasted of Autumn leaves and cinnamon, which was Autumn's favourite thing. Something that Matt had called "Autumn Spice". Autumn smiled faintly at the memory then grimaced at the pang of regret that shot through her. Why hadn't she just called for help? Why hadn't she been strong enough? Why were they even in that particular spot doing something they shouldn't have been? Why was she such an idiot? Why--
Spice barked again, pulling Autumn out of her thoughts.
"What? Whaddaya want?" She glared at him. His tongue lolled out as he sat and stared back at her. "Seriously, mutt. What do you want? I don't have time for this." That was a lie. A huge one at that. Autumn always had time; there was nobody around to use up her time, nothing to do, nothing to see, no money to spend, nothing. The dog stood up and trotted over to her, his enormous feet pounding on the carpet as he moved. Once he reached her, he buried his muzzle in her lap. Spice had always been an affectionate dog, especially in the Winter months near Autumn's birthday. She patted him, working the knots out of his fur with her fingers.
A few minutes of comfortable silence passed between them. Without realising it, Autumn started to cry. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and landed on top of Spice's head, causing him to shift uneasily. He nuzzled her again in an attempt to comfort her.
"I feel so alone, buddy... It's nearly my eighteenth birthday, and I haven't had anything worth living for since I got abandoned back when I was fourteen. The only good thing that's happened since then is you..." She trailed off, looking away sharply as more tears stung her eyes. Spice whined and barked softly in response. "Yeah... I know..." Autumn shook her head. It was really no use. Staring around the room, Autumn took in everything that she could. The old tapestry on the South wall was dappled with mould and grime, the chandelier made of glass dangled precariously in the middle of the room, the ceiling was too low for said chandelier, the West wall was crumbling slightly and almost all of the paint had peeled off of it and was now lying in small heaps on the Persian rug, the large door made of Oak had a brilliant fake diamond door knob, the Mahogany desk was a dark ebony colour and littered with various scraps of paper and miscellaneous items, und so weiter. The greatest thing about this room was that nobody had burst through the door and pointed a gun at her... Not yet, at least.
Autumn pulled out her pocket knife and walked over to the Mahogany desk and perched precariously on the edge. Leaning over slightly, she started to engrave a name on the desk, and then a date. She wasn't really thinking as she did this and pain shot up her arm and bounced around her shoulder whilst she did this.
"Matthias Brendon Quinn, 1996-2009 Ein jeder Engel ist schrecklich. Rest in pieces feeling right, friend."
Staring solemnly at what she had just carved on the table, Autumn bought the knife up to her wrist briefly, pushing the blade against her skin. She drew back, biting back the tears that threatened to flood over the dam of emotionlessness Autumn had built herself. She would not let it get to her now... Not now.
Suddenly, she felt something run down her arm. Her eyes widened in alarm as she stood up and ran over to the mirror at the far end of the room. A distorted image of herself appeared in front of her, eyes wide and shirt sleeve soaked in crimson. The rich crimson colour flooded down her arm in a sort of snail-trail, spiralling around her arm and wrist until running off her fingers and dripping onto the floor. She felt the blood trickle down her sides and watched as it soaked the side of her pale, filthy, ripped skinny jeans. At this point in time, she was too shocked to react properly, so she just stared at herself. It wasn't until she heard Spice whining that she snapped out of whatever trance she was in and pulled off her shirt revealing her slim and bruised figure. She turned to the side and stared at the wound in the cracked glass of the mirror. Autumn's eyes widened in horror at what she was seeing, the wound had gotten much worse than when she last looked at it. She sprinted over to the desk again and flung open the drawers, searching desperately for something to disinfect her obviously infected wound. The flesh was red and blood ridden and puffy and puss-covered and grim and horrible. To Autumn's dismay, there was nothing but another pile of papers, some empty scotch bottles and a few other bits and bobs.
Not knowing what else to do, Autumn ripped part of her shirt off at the bottom and wrapped it around her shoulder, dabbing at it beforehand with a small clean-ish rag she had found in one of the drawers. Staring at herself in the mirror again, Autumn wished that she at least had a med-kit in this hell on earth that she was currently experiencing... She curled up on the couch by herself, not slipping her shirt back on, but instead using it as a sort of blanket. Spice trotted over loudly and sat on her, attempting to keep her warm. Sure enough, it worked. Autumn clutched Spice close and soon fell into a fitfull sleep riddled and plagued with nightmares. This would have to do, for now...
