The Ivory Killer (DISCONTINUED)

-Chapter Thirteen-Aron

Chapter 13, everyone; don't forget to vote and comment if you liked it! Enjoy!

The new room was nicer. It didn't hold a candle to any regular room, but it was nicer. There was a window, but, like the other rooms, had iron bars and a dirty glass pane blocking any chance of escape. It wasn't like I would even try to escape; the room was high above the ground on what appeared to be the second or third level of something. I still didn't know where I was. My best guess was a castle of some sort, but what kind of castle would have all of these horrible rooms for horrible things? I had ever been in a castle either, so my best guess was basically my worst guess, too.

The room was softly lit, as the sun was perfectly in line with the window and cast dramatic shadows across the room. A cot-like bed was shoved up against the wall to my right, and a short chest of drawers sat opposite. Everything was covered with a layer of dust, and, if I wasn't so tired, I definitely would have sneezed. In the middle of the room was a rug done in Otania's blood-red that covered the stone floor.

A rough shove from behind sent me stumbling. My legs were still as solid as noodles from days of stress and immobility. I found myself having an issue getting them to function properly. I gripped my bleeding arm protectively in case I went down. Dust in a wound would not be pleasant.

"Here you are," One of the soldiers growled, "Home, sweet home," I looked over my shoulder at him and unintentionally flashed a helpless look. The truth was, I was definitely very helpless at that moment, but I certainly didn't want to show it. My emotions seemed to grow a mind of their own while working through the Ivory Killer, and that mind was determined to make me weak and vulnerable.

"What?" I croaked out with my sandpapery tongue.

"I said," he repeated, tapping the tip of his sword against the threshold, "home, sweet home. This is where you'll be staying until you're needed."

"Needed for-" I started to ask, but the door had already been shut. For one moment, I held onto the silence following the slam. There was no slam that represented a lock. The feeling was fleeting because seconds later, the sound of a large lock echoed through my new room and I couldn't help but sigh.

Was this my new life? Locked in rooms of stone and left to fend for myself? They had given me a window, which was nice. There was a bed in this room as well.

It was funny how low my standards had fallen.

My next thought bounced to food; at least they gave me food. Well, attempted to; I had never eaten the porridge they had left in the cell, which was becoming a deep regret. My stomach was rumbling and cramping in hunger. What I wouldn't give for the many bowls of porridge I had abandoned, even though they were probably ice cold and tasteless.

I took a step farther into the room and a bit of dust puffed up from the old rug. Every step I took released a new cloud of dust and I finally managed a sneeze. It roared through the silence and was quickly followed by a groan. My arm was stinging more and more every second. My eyes hurt and my head hurt and everything was just...bad.

My eyes focused on something folded on the cot. It was deep red, like all things seemed to be, and made of some sort of fabric. I couldn't tell which kind because all of the few blankets my mother and I had owned were knit. I felt my whole body shiver as I stared at the probably dusty blanket. My body was trembling from the aftermath of my fever and all I wanted to do at the moment was wrap myself up in it and sleep.

Before I moved to the bed, I decided to open the window. There was no use in getting comfortable then sneezing every few seconds. The room obviously hadn't been used in a long while.