The Ten Phases Of Ailin Francesc

frustration

fresh blood dripped into the pool of dried scarlet blood . Thin feet pressed into the hearth, shifting to avoid the blood. Yellow hair that fell low leaned towards her, ornaments attached through thin chains that jingled with movement.

A lean hand with a scissor moved towards her face, blood dribbled from the spot the scissor grazed Ailin's skin. A chuckle then. Loud in the silent room, the echoes bouncing through the walls.

"Mommy loves you a lot, my darling" The voice gasped. Shrill and unpleasant. Manic with desire and seduction. "Daddy loves you too, he loves you so much"

Her head was raised, eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose, staring into bright green eyes, thier depth stretching into a void, lightless and lifeless, but so full of joy. "Can you promise to keep this a secret?"

The clock ticked in the background. Morning light seeped through the windows, blue and cold.

"Mommy and daddy will be upset" She was pouting. Sad eyes now stared back at her. "Please don't tell them about it"

But Ailin's mouth was to be bound and bound forever. back then, it was a dirty cloth stuffed into her mouth. Her hands cuffed to the behind of the chair, legs heavily steady on the cold floor sparse with blood and broken glass pieces.

The door was bolted shut with a chair. Wood planks drilled on the frame. There was paint. Every where. beautiful colours mixing into each other on the floor, blending with her scarlet red blood, their canvases hung on walls.

Pain. Unbearable, incomprehensible pain hit her. Blood. Again. Flowing from her gut as the scissor twisted. Screams filled the silent cabin. Ailin squeezed her eyes shut.

When she opened then again, it was no longer the cabin. She was back in her room, panting and gasping for air, blue walls staring back at her, tears drying on her eyes.

she dropped on the floor, tearful eyes staring into the nothingness of the cold marble. A sob escaped her lips. Sadness had a ground. A bottom. A warmth. A heat. But the sadness Ailin felt was cold, bottomless, like a shell with its contents dried out. All that was left of Ailin was herself. Just her shell and nothing else.
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Leaves and twigs crumbled under her feet, the sun's rays seeping through tall trees into the greenery. The horizon was a deep shade of blue, Dark and light green with purple shadows in the distance.

the trees gave way to a cabin hidden beneath the canopy. A small wooden stucture blending into the trees. A small river ran beside it, the noise of the water crashing into the rocks was heard. The scent of mud and water was high, so nostalgic.

The door of the cabin was forcefully bolted shut from the inside, just as Ailin had expected. She walked around the cabin. It had windows. She was sure of it. And so she found them. A rusted frame with the glass broken. she pushed open what was supposed to be the window and climbed into the cabin.

There were a lot of things that hit her in that moment, but it was the smell that she could not put up with. The smell of rotting flesh and decomposing blood. It was so heavy she had the greatest urge to throw up.

She took a moment to adjust herself to the smell. Using a piece of her clothing to block her nose as she moved forward. The cabin was pretty empty except for the chair used to bolt the door close and another one right in the middle where Ailin had been held captive.

The canvases still hung high and the paint still carpeted the floorboards. Paint and scarlet blood. HER blood. Ailin stood there motionless. How much had it hurt? That's what she wanted to ask.

On a table on the other side was a tray. It reeked of misfortune. Ailin had a certain memory of the tools put inside it. A pair of scissors, ropes, a cloth used to stuff her mouth, chains, a whip, and underneath the table, a pair of boots.

She gasped. Panted. She needed air. With a frantic motion she climbed out of the window sill and stood in the humid air, breathing and waiting for her heart to calm down. Her vision was blurring, head aching and numbing. Fear of death, Ailin felt it. Her body trembled, as pain stretched into her lungs. very gradually did calm down once again. She finally took a deep breath and then went back in. Slight shivers still running through her legs.

After climbing back in, she wondered how she had missed it first. On the chair in the middle was a chain of gold, glimmering in the light. Ailin picked it up. A cresent moon staring back at her carved on a coin, behind it were the words printed:

Ailin Fransesc,
Varknov, Linsindberry
Block 56.

So the chain belonged to her. However, a bigger mystery was what the cresent moon symbol meant and how Ailin was related to it. She did not ponder the matter for long.

As she had expected, there was nothing more to be found in the cabin. And Thus with that conclusive thought, she left it empty and silent once again. Never turning to look at it just like she had done before. For she owed it nothing.