The Fallen Angel And The Demon In Green

Chapter 1: The Forsaken

To be fair, I've never given much thought to the importance of hope in my life. It is only now, as my ass hits the rocky floor of the cell and I hear the door creak shut with a bang, that I realise: having faith in a better future has always been the lifeline that has kept me from drowning. There were several tempting opportunities to fall into the abyss, but hope always kept me afloat. And, being imprisoned with others, I am constantly reminded of the consequences of letting go: Some go mad, some try to end their lives, but most become soulless zombies. You can see how the light has faded from their eyes; they become docile, quiet, as if their spirit has left their body to function under the instructions of others.

As I reflect on the matter, my eyes catch the rainbow I had drawn on the wall when I first arrived here, two years ago. It might look like bent lines to anyone else, but to me it was an exercise I had to do every day. I had to force my mind to imagine the colours, enough so that I could almost see the palette of bright shades against the dreadful grey wall. It had occurred to me at the time that I could focus on the rainbow, and the moments it evoked, to make the days go by faster. At the time, of course, it hadn't struck me that I would be here for years. I had this stupid idea that it was only a matter of months until I got pulled out, just another paternal scolding to "put me in place," as he says.

Jailing me in a slaving company seems like an extreme measure, though. My spirit had prevailed trough other punishments; Etiquette schools, "re-education" institutions, and so on. In the end, most of them were nothing more than prisons, designed to stifle your will and crumble your spirit, much like this place, but prettier. At least here no one bothers keeping up appearances.

Life had always worked in my favour, of course. I mean, there were several bumps in the road, but I always landed on my feet, unscathed. I would always return home with a triumphant grin, pleased at the thought that, again, I had defeated father, in a way. I almost hoped he would just give up after seeing how futile his efforts were, and maybe even to feel a bit proud of my resilience. But no. He had this last trick under the sleeve.

The situation did seem alarming when I got thrown down here, I'm not going to lie, but I didn't think it would be that bad. Just another round of the same circus, right? Except now I'm not so sure I will be able to leave in one piece. The problems that troubled me before arriving here seem so far away now, almost as if they belonged to someone else. I can almost feel it: I can feel despair creeping under my skin with each passing day, and the infuriating image of father arrogantly smiling at his victory pops in my mind. I grit my teeth at him: Not yet, bastard. There is still some fight in me.

He is not here, of course. One of the only advantages of this imposed exile. Despite the hatred that drives me to stand firm, I am aware that soon that fire will not be enough fuel to endure life in this hell. Already I feel my strength faltering: I see the rainbow, and it's hard to trace the colours. I can form red in my mind, maybe yellow, but I see nothing but a blank canvas before I can go on.

"Are you still trying to drill a hole through the wall by staring at it? I told you; it doesn't work that way."

I scoffed at the covered figure on the bed. But, actually, I was relieved Saphir was awake. She had been ill these last few days, and lately we only talked in between her feverish nightmares. Saphir can be unbearably short-tempered and her need for order may lead to a thousand pointless arguments, but she is the reason I bear my life here.

"I know it doesn't! I was a joking."

Not to mention that she wouldn't understand a sarcastic joke even if her life depended on it.

She clenched her jaw as she forced herself to maintain composure, clearly in pain, "Yeah, sure. You're just saying that because otherwise you'd look like a fool," she chuckled.