Babylon Candle

Prologue

Cold. She would always remember the icy metallic feel of the room; how the chill passed through her warm socks, up her spine, causing a freezing twitch to pass through her not only physically, but spiritually. Her body did not want to be there, and her mind tried to convince the rest of her that this is where she needed to be. Paralyzed by heavy thoughts; she did not remember the masked figure who walked in; only that they were dressed in white like a bad omen disguised as a blessing. The last few conscious moments before everything became a blurred regret, she remembered the cold eyes of a woman. Her rough hands had taken her arm. Looking for a good vein. Patch could feel the tips of her fingers, less and less; pins and needles moved up her hand to her wrist and her heart began to race. Her blood pumped quicker and quicker, like a slow clap coming into a deafening crescendo. She no longer felt her arm, it was as if it had been completely removed from the rest of her body.

"I can't feel my arm," Patch's voice was a low husky murmur that she had not anticipated. The quicker the seconds passed, the more urgency she felt. She needed this woman to stop. She was going to loser her arm. The room spun. Patch could not stop herself; she grabbed the woman's arm as aggressively as she could even with the weakness she felt. "I can't feel my arm. Stop" The woman, in shock, let Patch's arm loose from its chains.

Breathe. It was simple, but Patch's face had begun to turn blue. Regrets and thoughts passed through her mind. Could she turn back? Could she stop this all together? Breathe. I need to breathe.

Patch would never know the answers to her questions. Instead, her deadpan eyes turned to the woman. "Do it. I'm good now." All she knew, was she regretted never trying to stop her. The woman tied her arm again, and the white masked figure brought on the pain that would never leave her.