EMPTY HEARTS, b. blake [O.H]

i. lost and found.

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EMPTY HEARTS.
i. lost and found.

     A LIABILITY WAS was once a term her father used to describe her. She didn't know what it meant back then, she still didn't know, guessing was the only thing she could do; and she wasn't even good at that, if anyone was really asking.

Weak, was another word engraved into her brain. She pretended to not believe it, though, to push back the negativity that plagued her soul from the very moment she took her first breath. Sometimes she gave into the words, she let the darkness swarm her in hopes of no return. After all, she was going to die anyway. It was just a matter of time.

The entirety of the cell that she spent the last nine years in was cold, and dull, and especially hopeless. She was alone; alone with the emptiness in her heart, alone with her shivering thoughts, she was lost in herself. Everyday was bland, emotionless, meaningless. She absolutely couldn't wait until her eighteenth birthday, she just wanted the hollowness to be over already, for the pain to finally stop. For death to take her away.

Seventeen-year-old Catherine Grey studied the grey wall stood before her. Down to every last detail, she examined the panel that blocked the outside world that she ceased to understand. Cracks danced along the metal like paint on a once clean canvas, each carving telling it's own story. Tallies marked the wall, soon to be faded into oblivion as the days grew longer, and her life grew shorter.

Sometimes, she would pretend that the wall was a large screen, an old movie carrying on right before her eyes. It was her way of coping with the loss of human contact. She would never tell anyone this, however, they'd think she was crazy, and maybe she was.

Needless to say, she didn't have much to do.

That day in particular seemed to drawl out. That is, until the door to her prison cell was finally opened, fresh light spilling in from the entryway.

Catherine sprang to her feet, her tangled mess of dark hair bouncing on her shoulders. A novelty of confusion washed over her, lingered with that of fear. Her hazel eyes expanded upon the sight of two very intimidating guards entering the small room, a solemn look mixed within their features enveloped their faces.

"Prisoner 320, hold out your right arm." The first guard ordered, stepping farther inside. Catherine barely had time to see his face before her eyes fell upon a simple metal box held in the opposite mans hands.

"What is that?" She inquired, glancing towards the box once more.

Both men gave her a questionable look, fiddling with whatever was inside of the object before turning back towards her. The first man held a silvery metal bracelet in one hand, his free one reaching for her arm.