Author: Voldehmort PM
Thorne has been rescued from death by a mysterious man who claims to be her 'maker'. She is drawn to him, but can Thorne take the risk to find out who he really is and the people he works for?Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Fantasy - Words: 1,042 - Follows: 1 - Published: 08-03-12 - id: 3047387
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
My eye lids part slightly, and all I can perceive is white. Porcelain white. It was strangely blinding, to say the least. Maybe I am not opening them properly? My second attempt to open my eyes was clearly a mistake, because as soon as I did, I wished I had not. The room I was situated in was white, and beams of light appeared to be illuminating from it. Metal cabinets were glued against the brick wall, strong and firm. Wires seemed to be emanating from different glass tubes, each bearing a different colour and a different labelling. A single metallic stool stood on its own. I was laid on a single bed with strings attached to and from my hands and wrists, all leading to one little packet of blood somewhere over my head. What lay ahead of me was the most repulsive, yet fascinating creaure that I had ever seen. The creature laid on a platter, not moving an inch. It's roots (or so I would like to call it) it's legs, were the unfortuate result of brown, flaking, skin, I supposed. It's eyes were as big as areca nuts, layered with a hazy shield similar to glass, a material that I could not name. I turned my head away in utter disgust, not wanting to make direct eye contact with it in any way. Only then had I realised that my hands were immobile, and that I could not move my hair that was tickling my gentle skin, causing a funny sensation. I stared blankly with confusion and shock, because when I look up, the platter and the hideous creature are no where to be seen. Although, yes, I am indeed content by the disappearance of the creature as it reeked very much. But where had it disappeared to? And why on Earth am I tied on to this bed?
As the sound of hurried footsteps grew closer, I leaned back into the pillow, hoping to be given some answers for the never ending questions that were arising into my brain. My head actually ached. To be completely honest, my whole body hurt. My muscles will really need to work hard to get me up today. That is only if I'm going to get up, actually. The metallic double doors opened, and here I was, facing probably the most handsome man that I had ever seen. His hair was a light shade of silky brown material, and his eyes instantly reminded me of the deep blue oceans. His nose had an odd bump midway, but that obviously did not affect anything. He wore a simple light blue plaid shirt with dark grey trousers.
'Hi there,' he said, observing the monitor that had several wires attached to it. I instantly catched his British accent.
'You don't talk much, do you?' He glances at me and chuckles lightly, scribbling something on his wooden clip board. I take a deep breath, trying to respond to his words but something heavy seems to be stuck in my throat, unabling me to speak. I felt foolish, and immature because I do not understand anything he is doing. What is he scribbling on that clip board? Is he observing me? What exactly happened to me? I couldn't recall anything...
Without thinking, I blurt out 'who are you and what are you doing to me?'
The man turns slowly, looking at me as if for the first time. I stare back into those mesmerising blue eyes, searching for something. A strange feeling comes upon me, mixed with self-consciousness and annoyance. He looks down at his clip board, then back at me with hesitation. Is he scared of me? Do I look like an alien?
'I'm Paul, Paul Lucas, your maker.'
The words that came through his mouth were strange. Was I meant to understand this? Maker? So I was made into... What? My puzzled expression was clearly enough for him to know that I understood absolutely nothing at all. He tugged on a metallic stool swiftly, and sat beside my bed, about to possibly give one of those very serious lectures. I shifted uncomfortably as he freed my hands with a key. He sat back down, coughing and I looked directly at him, feeling my face heat up for whatever reason.
'It was at around midnight last summer that I found you. You were... mauled by a bear. The injury that was inflicted on you was too severe to be taken to an ordinary doctor; you had extensive damage done to your face and body. You were dying, but I found you. And I took you here. I don't think you'll remember much and I'm sorry, but that's all.'
I didn't realise that my jaw had fallen until he, Paul, gave me a small mirror. I slowly drew the mirror closer, to eye level. Staring back at me was a girl with a pale face, her skin as pale as chalk. She had beautiful high cheekbones, that looked slightly powdered. Some fiery red curls fell on either side of her temple. Her eyes looked hazy and were a mix of honey and gold. Her lips were dry, but pouty and full. My face has been tampered with. I was modified. That's me.
I shove the mirror away, not caring to see if Paul would hold it. Maybe he had, because I could not hear any glass shattering. It was me who was really shattering, internally. I let out a soundless cry, because this new information is not what I expected, and too much for me to absorb. Abruptly, everything arround me appeared to be spinning into oblivion. What the hell was happening? What am I doing here? My hands shot up to my temple, because suddenly everything felt heavy. Nothing seemed to be real. What's even worse is that I don't even remember my own appearance. What had I looked like before this? Did I have a family? Did they know I was here?
Only after half an hour or so did I realize that I had stopped crying, and that Paul was gone. I could feel the drowsiness attacking me from every angle, because I had no idea when I blacked out.