A Fairy Tale

Chapter 10

Xander

I'm scared. More than anything. I don't know where I am.

I try to open my eyes but they refuse to budge. My whole body hurts. I feel sharp fingers digging into my skin, holding me down.

A chorus of children crying and deep voices yelling fills my ears. I wince as I recognize the sound of a whip whistling through the air, attacking innocent skin. It brings back memories of a small dark room, cold metal chairs, black scary eyes, my mother's voice...

Wait! Emma! Where's Emma?

I shuffle around, trying to move. The sharp fingers let go for a moment before I feel wood connect with my face. I raise up my arms to block the attacks, but they keep on coming. Pain flares in my chest and abdomen. I stop moving as they grab my arms once again. I whimper. It hurts.

Emma. Where are you?

Suddenly I hear a scream.

The deep voices become louder.

Chains rustle before I hear the voice again. A girl. She's yelling for someone to let go. Dirt moves around before I hear her call out my name.

Emma? The fingers holding me down start to move. I feel layers of my skin being torn off as I'm dragged roughly across the ground. I can't do anything to stop them from taking me. I try once more to open my eyes.

As soon as I see her face I calm down a little.

Emma. I see Emma.

Her green dress is ripped. Her face, unrecognizable behind all the dirt. Mud clutters her raven hair, making it brown instead of black. Two trails of tears fall down her cheeks, revealing white skin underneath. I feel calm as her brown eyes lock on mine.

"Don't cry," I mouth. I lift the corners of my cheeks a little before my eyes heavily close shut. Her screams are the last thing I hear.

***

My eyes jerk open. My hands feel cold even though the room is hot. I can still hear the echo of her calling my name.

Dizzy with fatigue, it takes me a moment to clear my head. I'm staring at the dark red color of the carpet in my room. The ends roll in waves as a small breeze comes through the window. I'm confused as to why I'm laying on a table with a face cradle.

As I move to sit up I quickly find out why. My back screams in agony and my arms buckle under the weight of the pain. I clench my teeth as the fire in between my shoulder blades refuses to subside.

Tears dot the corners of my eyes, barely being held back. Sweat drips down the side of my neck and across my cheek to my chin. Dropping silently on the floor.

I slowly lie back down on the table. Reminiscing in the absence of the pain after my body melts on the cushioned flat surface.

Now with my head back in the circle of the face cradle, I feel like a specimen ready to be dissected. My vision is limited to the carpet surrounding the floor. The soft white cushion blocks any sound waves, before my sharp ears can catch them. The table easily holds my wings which are spread soundly apart. My wolf-ish legs grow numb from the way they're twisted uncomfortably on the table. It isn't long before I run out of patience.