Surviving

Maya

Adrian told me Lilith died. Ever since I've injured everyone who's walked in my door. It's been months since we've been captured.

Adrian has just shut down. He didn't get angry, he simply broke down. He doesn't talk, doesn't eat; he just doesn't do anything. He just sits in the corner farthest from Orlando and I.

Orlando was sad the first couple days. He even went on a huge hunger strike. Seeing him grow thinner made me worry. Soon either his hunger got the best of him or he realized that it was useless to go silent even we needed to escape, so now he switches between sorrow and anger.

Our Creator comes in. I know it's noon, he always comes in at noon every day. I want to attack him, but they're smart and bound me in thick heavy chains.

He hasn't changed though. He has the same dark brown eyes.

Up until a certain age I thought they were black. Those eyes haunted me until I left. His skin is a light coating of brown. It's inviting, but how could a cruel man look so inviting.

His side burns have grown out and gotten thicker and wild since the last time I've noticed him. That's odd, since he doesn't carry
himself like that.

He is a man that always wants to make the best impression, no matter how important the situation is.

He's slipping. He never likes to appear weak and uneasy and right now he has a kind of edgy look about him.

We study each other and I try to figure it out.

Maybe he wasn't trying to kill Lilith. Does he regret it? Does he even have that emotion? Why would he be slipping over her?

We faced death more times then counted and mostly by his hands or commands! Death became my most reoccurring friend while I was captured.

Anger fumes me! How dare he think he can greive her, like he was close with her, like he isn't the one who sent her to her death.

He put death in her hands and gave death permission to take her. He is a monster and if I ever get the chance I'd kill him in a heartbeat no matter if I would for shortly after that.

He smirks at my anger and walks closer to me.

"I hate you." I tell him in the same monotone voice I've said it in every day.

"My little soldier." He tells me in a soothing voice.

"I am not your anything." I snarl.

"You're my daughter. I thought so much of you that I mixed you with my own genes. The blood that goes through you now, is mine. You're different from the rest of them. They have no parents. You have a father. You have what the others long for; you are special. You are mine."

I remain silent, hoping he'll leave and wondering when he'll understand that no matter how many times he tells me this long ass story about us being family, it will never make him anything other than a monster in my eyes.

"Don't you remember when you called me dad? Those were the good days." He sighs and gets more into my personal space. He puts his large rough hands on my cheeks cupping my face.

I glance back and see Orlando starting to stand, getting worried. I give him a pointed look and he relaxes.

I turn my attention back to Riccardo. "The good days?" I scoff, "When I get the chance to throw you off the Niagara Falls, bound in rope and shot you won't think they're the good days."