By Kiara_Sullivan 39 Comments
I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind, I left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time. I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon. I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah.
The music floated through the room as if it knew the area intimately. And in fact it did if music were a sentient being. But it was the prone figure laying upon the crumpled sheets that controlled the music that filled the silence. Her jade green eyes stared blankly at the ceiling above her, never even so much as blinking. It was almost as if she were nothing more then a piece of furniture herself, artfully placed upon the bed with her flaming red hair fanned out around her.
A heavy knock sounded from the door across the from bed and the young girl upon it. In a moment the eyes and head of that seemingly lifeless figure adjusted to stare at the wooden object that kept her hidden away from whomever was on the other side of it. And that is exactly what she wanted. There was nothing in the world that could move her from where she lay. As a matter of fact she wished the entire world would forget her. It would save her from hurting those around her for a second time.
“Kiara.... Come to dinner..” The gruff and aged voice spoke kindly from the other side of the door. The pain in his own voice was evident. Not only for the loss he had suffered himself but for the granddaughter who was clearly spiraling into a black whole that no one would be able to drag her from. It pained the young girl to hear her strong grandfather sound as he did. For as long as she could remember he had been a very happy man who loved his family so deeply. Especially the granddaughter who now was lying on the verge of death herself.
Several days later.
It had been a long time since anyone had even heard a sound com from the room that had remained locked since the funeral. Not even the music played anymore. Robert Lindsay had feared the worse long before this moment. But his wife had continually stopped him from breaking down the door.
“She needs time to process it all dear. She can't do that with us standing over it. Let her mourn her parents in peace.” The finely lined face of his wife stared kindly at him as she reassured him once again.
“No. The music has never stopped before Bess. Something is wrong.” Without even waiting for a reply the old man launched himself out of the chair and bound up the stairs. His shoulder met wood soon after and as he opened the door he was struck by the most horrifying site. His beautiful granddaughter sat upon her bed in tears as blood streaked her nearly naked form. She clutched a knife in her white knuckled hand as she sliced into her skin over and over again. The entire time she muttered, “It's not fair. I cant die. I cant die. I cant die.”
Robert stared in shock as his wife crowded him in the door way. Both stood still as statues as they watched their granddaughter repeatedly violate her body with that cold steel. But it wasn't the blood or the cutting that kept them standing there. Each time Kiara sliced into her skin the wound would pour blood for only a moment before the skin would knit back together neatly.
The old couple couldn't help but be scared as they watched the horrifying scene before them. Not only had they lost their daughter and son in law because of some crazed maniac. But it seemed like their own granddaughter was beginning to loose her own mind. Not to mention she was manifesting some strange innate ability to heal herself. There had been cases of this before. They had heard story upon story of people with odd powers. But they had always dismissed them as hoaxes. There was no way they could deny it now. But denying it wasn't their problem. They needed to know how to handle it.
The old man hesitantly moved towards the bed. His wife's ancient gnarled hands clutched the arm of his plaid linen shirt but soon it slipped through her fingers. He looked back at her and the terror that emanated from her was almost palpable. He gave her a reassuring smile then again stepped towards the figure that was his granddaughter.
“Kiara? Come on now, Sissy. Give me that knife.”
His eyes never strayed from the blade that sliced through her skin like butter. He recognized it as part of the set he had bought his Bess one year for their anniversary. The knives themselves were delicate looking with dark mahogany handles but the blades had stayed sharp through countless years of use. He immediately regretted buying them all those years ago. But back then Kiara's mother was still a child and neither he nor Bess could have predicted what they would be used for.
The flame haired girls eyes shot to the man approaching the bed. Her eyes were wild with fright as she looked at him. But the moment he was standing to close she let out an almost feral snarl and lunged for the door only to be barred exit by the elderly old woman who feared more for her husbands life then her own. In a flash the cold hard steal had disappeared into the flesh of the woman's neck. A moment of shock fell across her face as she tried to speak but nothing escaped. Just the sound of the blood gurgling in her throat as the knife was removed.
It was in that moment Kiara came to herself. She stared at the old matronly woman who was fighting for her life at her feet. Terror etched upon her face as calmly the teenager knelt down. The knife moved once more but this time it went to her own wrist and in an instant a spattering of warm blood hit the dying woman’s face and then the hole in her neck. Slowly her breathing returned to normal as the wound knit together once more.
Robert stood by the bed as he watched the scene unfold before him. His feet felt rooted to the ground he was almost helpless as he thought his once happy carefree granddaughter was about to finish off the woman he loved. He stood still unwilling to move so as not to provoke her. Then he saw what she did. His eyes moved to the wound on his wife’s neck and watched it heal. Then he looked up once more only to see that Kiara was gone.
She ran from that place that had been her home for only a brief moment in time. She ran from her grandparents because they were unsafe around her. But most of all she ran because she had no idea what was happening to her. She had no where to go. No place where she felt safe. No place where she felt anyone was safe from her.
Three Years Later
Silence. There was not even the rustling of leaves to disturb her as she drew back the string on her bow. The wood of the bow creaked slightly as she reached the limit of her draw. Her entire body went still and so did the people watching. Then in a soft whoosh and a slight twang of the string she let loose the arrow she had knocked into the notch and then turned away. She didn't need to watch to know the outcome. Her arrow never missed. And sure enough with a soft thud the crowd fell into a deafening roar. Signifying what she was already aware of.
Kiara raised her bow above her head and a smile that didn't reach her eyes spread across her lips. She gave the required curtsey as a man's voice rang out above the din of the crowd. “Although it was never customary for women to practice archery during the Renaissance, many did. And as can be seen by our flame haired beauty, many succeeded far beyond the men's capabilities...”
With head held high Kiara left the archery grounds and the sound of the man's voice faded into the distance. Slinging the bow over her head and across her chest she hiked up the skirts of her period wear and made her way to the tent that had acted as her home for the past three years. Entering it was like stepping into the future.
The bed was small, nothing more then a cot piled with blankets to make it more comfortable. Next to it was a small table with a laptop. Another table across from the bed held a small 13 inch TV with a Blu-Ray player beneath it and next to that was an armoire filled with what little non-period clothing she had. Closing the flaps of her tent together and fastening them tightly she stripped out of the dress and put on her jeans and tank top.
The night started to set in and slowly the tourists began to file out of the Renaissance fair they had come to visit. The sounds from outside the canvas walls that surrounded her began to get quiet and sitting alone in her small space she began to think. She was tormented by the memories of the day she left her grandparents house. Flashes of scenes painted across her minds eye until she sprang up from her bed and paced the small area quickly.
Since she had left her entire life behind she had done much to make sure that she could protect herself. Not only had she perfected her archery but she had also studied Parkour. She had become almost an expert at the art form that used your surroundings as an obstacle course of sorts. She had also taught herself how to use it as a fighting style. Even more then that she had also incorporated her bow within the mix. She had broken many bows over the years as she practiced but eventually she would find one that could hold up to the task of being a long range weapon as well as a close combat tool.
Not only did she work with perfecting her own unique style of fighting but she also had to deal with the fact that her rapid healing was not her only power. More manifested as time went on and they were all incorporated into her fighting with much practice. Her latest seemed to work quite well with her bow but it had taken her a very long time to focus the kinetic energy of her arrows into a shock wave of great proportions. But it was still quite unpredictable and she dared not practice it with in any kind of range of people.
The other power was much easier for her to learn. Psychokinesis ended up being a very useful tool after mastering her archery and it proved to be a great party trick for the visitors of the Renaissance fair over the years. They always attributed the deliberately off track shots as poor bouts of luck for the young woman until her arrows altered course and hit their mark. And then they would only believe that it was all an act of smoke and mirrors. Never would they fathom that it was the young girls on mind that altered the course of her projectiles and never would she tell anyone otherwise.
As Kiara continued to pace her small tent her mind continued to fill with thoughts of how she had came to be where she was today. It had taken her a very long time to cope with her parents death and what she had in turn did to her grandmother. But now she felt as safe as possible within her own head. And there were fewer moments where she would sit with knife in hand flaying her skin wide open. But she knew that the potential to snap still resided within her. And she dared not venture back to her home.
The wooden pole that held up the front of her nearly authentic looking tent shook as someone rapped upon it. Her head turned quickly and she slowly made her way to the flaps that served as her door. Hesitantly she peeled back the covering and stared at a group of suited men. A quizzical look crossed her face, “Yes? May I help you?”
“Kiara Sullivan? We are with an organization that has been watching you for quite some time. We need you to come with us.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Well Ms. Sullivan we would hate to have to resort to illegal acts to persuade you to come with us. But I'm sure that your grandparents would rather you work with the Government instead of against it.”