Pandora's Soul

Chapter 3: Demands

Just as my escorts had, the falls of my feet pound against the stones, creating an unusually loud sound.
Loud, but entrancing.
I'm not sure why it happens, but suddenly I find myself listening in to hear every movement my feet make. I can't even feel it anymore. My body just moves routinely, knowing each step before I take them. It's an odd sensation, this feeling, but it gives me time to think. That's an even stranger statement, considering I spend my days trapped away in a cell with nothing but time to think. But, I haven't needed to use that until now. I can't forget the looks that my escorts gave me when they first entered my cell.
It's like they were almost trying to convey something to me with just a heated glance. A foolish thought, but I think it anyway. No Athenian would ever give me the time of day long enough to try and warn me about something. I doubt they have the hearts.
The Athenians aren't gods, but they do love to act like to. Each and every last one of them is guilty of it. I'm not sure what the appeal is in pretending to be more respectable than what one really is, but it's not like I've ever been faced with the option.
As expected, I was not an Athenian before I got thrown in here. Not even close, probably the farthest thing from it, actually. I was a Metic before, and soon that turned into a peasant. Peasants are the lowest of the low, and when one has nothing its hard to stay out of that level of the castes. And obviously, I did not. I didn't spend long in that level before I was jailed for a crime of the worst sorts.
I still remember that day well. The day I was taken from the woods only to be captured and held prisoner. I knew I deserved it, and I was aware of the guards reasons before they grabbed ahold of me. So, I didn't fight back. I let them take me away, though I can't say I didn't kick, and put me here. Here, being the Whitelighter Prison. The name is fancy, almost as if it's trying to trick visitors into thinking it's a privilege to be placed here. I know better. This prison is no better than my other option.
Province A jail.
I suppose I could've been taken there instead, if I made a big scuffle about it, but I didn't. I didn't want to anyway. I belong here to serve my time. Under the surveillance of people who can put me back in line. I hate speaking so highly of the Athenian guards, but it is true. If I was to try anything funny, they wouldn't hesitate to fix me up. That's why I chose here. Choose, being used loosely. In my provinces prison, escape would be easier with its lack of security and poorly built structure. A tempting offer, but I refused it, and don't regret it. My time is almost up and I will be out of here without becoming even more of a criminal than I already am. Attempted escape from a highly protected jail does not need to be on my resume. Besides, temptation in the other one would've been to great to stand.
I wonder if I'll ever go back to my province.
After my mother disappeared, I stayed at home for a couple years and then started to travel. I've seen all the towns and cities on our continent, but never spent more than a week in one besides my hometown. Travel and sightseeing were never on my bucket list or anything. I didn't go for pleasure. Purely business.
In total I was on the run for four years, before my life fell apart once more and I was placed here. It's almost nice to think of my past spent traveling through so many different places and meeting all the people I have. It's a comforting thought, until I think of how all those experiences ended.
I did meet new people.
Good people.
And that's what made leaving that much harder.
So I closed myself off. I stopped speaking to strangers and making new acquainted. I didn't need that kind of anchor trying to keep me from saving myself. I tied all my loose ends and dropped countless people, all so I could come back to Province A to relive my old dreadful memories. The whole reasoning behind my return was to cut off and divide myself from others, but there the opposite happened. The first event which lead to my demise.
And others.
Out of all my past memories, moving back home has to be my biggest regret. Some good came out of it, but not enough to outweigh the cons.
I have to stop my train of thought before a tear escapes my carefully put together expression. A crack in my mask, one I won't allow these Athenians to see. Any sign of weakness will be acted upon, and I don't need that. I prefer to keep my emotions to myself and break down where no one can see me. I haven't cried in a very long time, so when my eyes start to well, I'm surprised to say the least. I'd thought I lost the ability to shed the salty tears. I suppose not. No matter. Crying about unchangeable events will get me no where. Neither will thinking of my past mistakes. So instead, I focus on my future. That's the one thing I can control. Or at least I'll be able to once they let me out of this damned prison.
I curiously wonder if Bane and Deja, who grip my chains like their lives depend on it, have even noticed the slip in my step. Judging by their blank straightforward looks, I doubt it. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen any of the three turn their lips even the slightest bit upward. Every encounter we have, I'm only met with glares and scowls.
Their opinion wouldn't be any different, however. I'm sure they see a hint of a snarl under the sheet of hair that usually obscures my face. I hope they can.
That's the biggest flaw in my clever plan of hiding my facial features. They won't be able to ever see the hatred that stains my scowls. I can imagine the surprise in their faces that someone else could match their nasty looks. If only.
"Turn." Dax broods from behind me. I can't see him, only hear, but that doesn't stop that familiar urge form rising within me, telling me to cause him some sort of pain.
I obey, even though in my head, I'm thinking of all the different ways I could wrap my chains around his throat and squeeze the life out of him. Vicious thoughts, but fairly placed.
Dax is the worst of all the Athenians I've encountered, and that number is higher than I'd like to admit. It bodes well for me, knowing that I, a helpless Metic can still suck the life out of one of the "great" Athenians.
Another one of my past moments, although this one I'm not ashamed of in the slightest. I even debate sparking a conversation about it, if only to annoy and intrigue Dax. I decide against it, knowing it will only make my anger grow. What a pity. Maybe some day when I'm out of here, I'll meet him again. And then, I won't be the one following his orders.
I grin devilishly, and even wider at the fact that he has no clue what's happening in my mind right now.
If he had, I wouldn't be considered the good little prisoner anymore.
"Where are we going?" My question falls on deaf ears, as I had expected.
By the way they act, it's almost as if I hadn't even asked anything, but I see the twitch of their fingers and the small shadow of shock that crosses over Deja's face, from behind my curtain of hair. I don't blame her. Making conversation with my jailers is a rare occurrence for me so they have every right to be a bit caught off guard. It's still odd to see such stony people be knocked back a step so suddenly. I wonder if I would react the same in their shoes.
Scratch that.
That's definitely not a topic I want to think about.
Ugh.
I could gag, thinking of myself as an Athenian. On the contrary, I have to fight back a laugh. Like I said, I never show emotion around them, so I struggle hard but it's worth it. The mere thought of me, a normal-criminal- girl from one of the poorest provinces made an Athenian instead of a peasant. Unspeakable.
And certainly just a thought. It will never be reality. And I don't want it to be. I'd rather be hanging by the neck, lifeless, in the town square than become one of the arrogant people who prance around, pretending like they're of utmost importance. It's sickening, really. If peasants can accept who they are, why can't they? A question with no answer, I have asked. Any Metic has yet to meet an Athenian with heart enough to answer our questions, let alone get the attention of them. They're too busy trying to gain popularity and wealth. I suppose Metics are too, but that's more of trying to survive.
Before I can even begin to think of what an Athenian would do in a Metics shoes, my chains get pulled harshly, jarring against my wrists in a painful motion. The metal feels cold against my skin, almost making the tightness of the cuffs bearable.
I realize it was Dax, the mighty master of direction, who snapped my shackles like there was no living person attached to them, which only makes me want to punch him in his oddly perfect teeth. That's not the only thing that is disgustingly perfect about him either. I hate admitting it, but it is true. I, for one, would never be enticed by his handsome face, considering I know the monster he keeps hidden beneath, but even if I didn't I couldn't imagine being so naive to fall for that act. It isn't hard to know why the women involved in the scandal were allured to him, but that doesn't make it any less maddening. It makes my stomach turn to think how stupid they were to focus entirely on his charm, which I don't see, and not the cold and arrogant look behind his eyes. As a matter of fact, I don't see how anyone could look past his eyes. To me, they're the worst thing about him.
Shockingly blue irises, lighter than ice itself and a nice shade overall, without the weight of a thousand scowls hidden behind them. His gaze is always so piercing I don't understand how someone could find him attractive. Added with the fact that he's an asshole, he's pretty much set for a lifetime of despair. As I said, he's my least favorite of them all.
It's a tight race but I'd have to say Deja is the most tolerable. Maybe it's the lack of ice in her eyes, I'm not sure but somehow I find her presence to not mad me so livid I see spots. She has green eyes, the color of emerald, and on occasion I find some resemblance of comfort in them. She, by no means, is a good person, but at least she doesn't treat me like a dog.
Bane holds the second spot, by a close second.
Overall, he's super quiet. I can't imagine he's spoken more than few times in his life, but when he has I'm sure it was only to make demands. Just like Dax.
He doesn't have to speak to be an ass, however.
His actions say it all for him.
It's actually him who puts the manacles around my limbs, with the gentleness of a bull in a china shop. His touch is rough and unforgiving, clearly displaying the lack of interest he takes in me. And his eyes are blue, too. Like Dax's. But Bane's are darker. Blue as the hottest fire.
As it's shown, they're all different in their own ways and yet they're all damned bastards.
I wish I could study them more, try to find some sort of slip in their facades, but I don't dare risk a glance up at them. The chances of them seeing my face as well, would be very high and I can't chance that.
Once again, my eyes fall to the floor, intending to find the linoleum ahead of me, but I find none.
Instead, I spot a sliver of light coming out from under some sort of object.
It's flat and tall, and as brown as the darkest dirt I've ever seen.
A door.
My heart rate increases the minute I tilt my head up slightly to inspect it further. It is in fact a door, and one of the biggest ones I've ever seen. Even when I was first sentenced here, I had never encountered such a massive threshold. And that's what sparks my interest.
Maybe I should be frightened, considering I don't go through doors on my weekly walks, but I'm not. On the contrary, I'm intrigued. And correct.
There's definitely something going on.
And I guess I'm about to find out what "something" is.