What was there left for her to do? The constant paranoia and anxiety often made her forget to complete certain tasks.
She was about to walk back to her makeshift bedroom, and look at a board she hung up with her daily to-do list until her mechanical arm began lightly creaking. After losing her organic arm in the fire, she resorted to building a technology-based prosthetic.
Regardless of first impression, this woman had more than enough knowledge to create and accomplish many great things.
The Russian woman stood up off her creaky wooden chair, and over to the same shelf she stored her hair, grabbing the rusty toolbox she kept all of her tools in.
There was a clicking sound as she opened the rusty and crimson tool chest lid. Her organic and shaky hand grabbed the screwdriver and began to unscrew a few bolts off the elbow plate to be able to see beneath the metal.
It appeared to her that one of the ball bearings was loose and out of place—an easy fix, of course.
As she tightened the ball bearings to her elbow, she hummed. She hummed a tune oh-so-familiar to her heavy beating heart, that could keep it calm. The tune would bring her to a calmer, happier place, where she was held, and told that everything would be alright. No fear of fires, the lab coats, or people. A place in which her pupils could dilate, and rid of that stare she now holds.
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An Artist's Mind Palace||Read Description!
Teen FictionSo, before literally ANYTHING else, I want to make this abundantly clear that this story is more for practice than anything. And for fun. This isn't meant to be taken too seriously. Just thought I'd get that out of the way. So, don't mind if it's cr...
