Maia

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Through me you pass into the city of woe.
She took a breath inwards. Then another. She looked down at what had happened - at the red blood that covered her pretty little shoes and her pristine hands. A kitchen knife dropped out of her hands with this realisation. This realisation at what she had done. She hadn't been awake. That didn't matter. Something had happened. With another breath, Maia looked around the room - to see the bodies of two people. A man and a woman. Their clothes were torn, and their hair was unkempt. It looked like they were wearing some kind of a cult uniform. It also looked like they had been dead for years, but the fresh smell of blood didn't agree with this. It washed in and out of Maia's nostrils, and swum amongst her hair.
She backed away from the scene slowly, hairs curling upwards on her neck: and her pressed her upper back against a wall.
Through me you pass into eternal pain.
Her panicking hands pressed along the bricks and tiles, searching for a way out and not daring to take her eyes away from the scene - for fear that whatever happened to these people would happen to her. For fear that whatever she had done to these people, she would do to herself. When her shuffling form finally found a doorway, she practically fell through it - and gasped for air as her feet stumbled to keep her standing upright. She whirled around and stared at a small room. In the left corner sat a dusty piano, and a semi-broken plastic chair. Her lungs took in a breath of the mildew-laden miasma in the space, and then coughed it straight back out on reflex.
Gingerly, she reached out for the chair - and searched around the sight for anything that could be used to escape. In answer to her wishes, she saw a small window. A square thing, with black mould over its sill. Her hand clasped over the chair-leg, and the blood on her fingertips stuck her flesh to the plastic.
To rear me was the task of power divine.
With a small grunt of fear and trepidation, Maia pulled the chair from the ground and launched it upwards at the window. A single one of its legs careered through the window - smashing it, but quieter than expected. Taking a last anxious glance around at the landscape; Maia moved silently across the floorboards - and started to clamber, albeit cumbersomely, towards the sunlight and the window. Her small fingers grasped and grappled at the ledge, and her legs scraped and slid from the wall. Gritting her teeth, Maia pulled her torso through the hole; and then pressed her legs into the surface one last time to gain a final degree of hold. And - then she was falling. Falling from the window, but out of that ungodly building. Feeling the air whistle through her nose and ears, she cascaded down into shrubbery after falling three floors.
Supremest Wisdom, and primeval love.
With bloodied hands, and tear-drowned eyes - Maia felt millions of knives of separate brands of concentrated pain plunge into her body. Her leg quivered with the sensation of a broken bone.
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.

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