ECHO [Rewritten - NaNoWriMo '16]

Chapter 22: Echo

23 December 2007

Berlin, Germany

Echo

She stared at herself in the floor length mirror from her place on the stiff bed. The light was still startlingly too bright, and she was having a hard time concentrating. But her eyes had accustomed enough so that she could see. Her skin was nearly translucent it was so pale, it nearly blended in with the color of her bones. The bones that that very skin clung too; there was not an ounce of fat or muscle. Her entire side was numb now from the drugs, but the white bandage that covered the wound was visible even under her shirt.

This was reality but she didn't really know what it was. She felt disconnected from her own image. How could this be reality when there was that other world? Another world where it was so simple, you fight or you die? She looked down at her too small, too delicate fingers. The door suddenly slammed open, revealing a woman that towered at 6'4. She wore dark clothing that clung to her slender, muscular figure. Dark hair that seemed be in dreadlocks was bound down her back. Her face was...it was simply stunning. In a way that froze your heart, made you halt in terror. But that was simply the view of her red lips. The upper part of her face was covered in a gorgeous Venetian mask. It was pearl white, with diamonds encrusted in the delicate details. Designs covered the entire portion of it, a mixture of odd tentacles, flowers, and human faces. In the center, right in the center of the forehead was a face with a crown upon it.

But where there would be eyes, there were lids of the mask, and lashes at the bottom of the curve. It threw everything off and made both mask and face more terrifying. Her eyes were unseen. And it made this woman in front of her seem...godly.

She raised her hand, pointing a finger at the young girl, and curving it towards herself. The girl stood, walking over on shaking legs to the woman. That same hand snapped out, curling around her bicep. The grip bruised her skin instantly; her eyes brightened with unshed tears. She looked up at the woman. The face lowered, right in front of hers. Just inches. And she could've sworn that she felt eyes burning into her own. And power, pure power seemed to radiate from her very pores.

"It's time to see if you are actually worth any of this time," she said. Her voice was harsh, clipped, and felt like chains wrapping around her tiny frame.

Before the young girl could respond, she was dragged out of the room that she was in. They entered a hallway that was void of anything other than doors, walls, and lights. On her bare feet, the tile was cold. Nearly frosting. The woman stopped in front of a plain grey door. She looked up at the woman. She swallowed any fear that she had, "What do you want me to do?"

"Find out his name," she opened the door and threw the girl inside. The door slammed shut; there was a click as she locked it.

Silence. She turned slowly to see a man chained to a chair. He was naked, and shivering in the cold. She looked down at her slender, shaking fingers. And balled them into fists. There was a table that had an array of instruments. Instruments meant for pain. Did she really want to do this? Where was Thorn? Why wasn't he there when she woke up? This wasn't she had bargained for when he had found her in the awful place. She wanted her sisters; she wanted the warmth of her mother's hug. But that was a distant memory now. One that was fading. One that was gone. After she had woken up, she was different. Separate from everyone else.

She strode over to the table and looked over the weapons. The silver caught in the light. She should go for the generic. Something like the knife. But she felt so weak, and yet...she was angry. Angrier than she knew how to handle. The chill of the room seemed to fade as heat bubbled within her veins. Without thinking, she grabbed the handle of a sledgehammer and despite the weight, she hurled it. Straight at the man. Bone crunched underneath the weight, the skin splitting with blood pouring from the wound.