Prologue
Clarissa was dreaming.
She lay on a blanket in the center of a beautiful meadow, golden poppy all around her, swaying in the wind like the waves of an ocean. She sighed deeply as she basked in the sunlight, feeling the gentle warmth on her skin. The breeze played about her face as she sat up and looked out at the meadow, which seemed to flow like a symphony only the flowers could hear. Clarissa stood up on her bare feet and let her silk dress ripple in the wind. The sun illuminated the world around her, and Clarissa questioned how anything could be so beautiful.
A petal sprang up from the bed of flowers and Clarissa tried to catch it. The wind seemed to tease her as the petal kept shooting from her grasp at the last possible moment. Instead, Clarissa decided to let it fly, and sat back down at her blanket.
“I don’t need you,” she said, watching the petal slip out of sight. She then turned her gaze at the poppies dancing in the breeze, and picked one that was closest to her. She brought the golden beauty up to her face and closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply, wondering just how sweet it would smell.
She was met with the stench of sweat.
Clarissa awoke as she was violently shaken from the arm. She was ripped from her happy dream, and the bright sun was shut out, replaced by a foreboding darkness. This was Clarissa’s reality, and she couldn’t avoid it, no matter how wonderful her dreams were, because they were just that: dreams.
Clarissa felt the stone cold bed beneath her and the threadbare blanket that lay askew across her body. She was dressed in rags, and was barefoot.
“Time to get up, Clarissa,” said a voice above her. Clarissa pulled the clumps of sweat glued hair out of her face and stared up at the face of a man she had learned to hate from the depths of her soul: Richard Wells. He looked downed at Clarissa with dark brown eyes that had dark shades of purple underneath them. His jet black hair still shined in the darkness and his crooked nose always reminded Clarissa of a vulture; A vulture, who stared patiently at his victims until they broke, and then swooped down to eat his fill.
“Richard, I hardly slept,” pleaded Clarissa, laying her head back down onto her non-existent pillow, “Just let me rest a few minutes longer.”
Richard simply smiled.
“I don’t remember saying you had a choice in the matter,” said Richard, grabbing Clarissa’s arm and pulling so forcefully that Clarissa could have sworn she heard her arm come out of its socket. Her head slammed into Richard’s chest; he was a good foot and a half taller than her.
“Now follow me,” said Richard, a fiery look in his eyes, “Today I’ll finally be able to put your powers to good use.” Clarissa felt a pang of fear strike her at these words. Had he finally discovered something?
Clarissa was dragged out of her dark cell and Richard closed the barred door behind them with a loud clang. Then they made their way across the dark basement in which Clarissa resided in, she being yanked from the arm the entire time. As Richard pulled her up the flight of stairs that led to the rest of Richard’s mansion, she couldn’t help but wonder what he had in store for her today. Then, eleven steps up, Clarissa lost her footing. She fell hard on the wooden stair case, and managed to stop her self from rolling back down the steps. Richard released her hand and looked down on her.
“Could you get back up sometime today, Clarissa?” he said impatiently. Clarissa ignored him and rubbed her left foot.
“I think I sprained it,” she said, wincing at the pain. A flash of anger was seen on Richard’s face, but it quickly melted away. Without offering a word of comfort, he turned to the basement door and called for someone. A guard who had been waiting for them outside came rushing in.
“What is it, Mr. Wells?” he said, not sure if he had come fast enough. Richard pointed to Clarissa, who was sitting on the step below him, rubbing her ankle.
“It seems like Clarissa has fallen and sprained her ankle, so I need you to help her out of here for me, um, Tom is it?” said Richard, giving a fake smile. Tom stared at Clarissa for a moment before complying.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Wells, I’ll do that,” he said, lifting Clarissa up to rest against his shoulder so she could walk on one foot.
“Good,” said Richard, continuing up the stairs, “Now follow me, Tom.” Clarissa put her hand around Tom and hopped up the stairs on one foot, determined not to trip again. Soon they reached the basement door, and Richard unlocked it.
Once they had stepped through it was as if they had entered another world. Gone was the dark, damp basement as they walked into a lavishly decorated hallway, with silk curtains hung on the windows. The floor was carpeted with amazing designs, the whole place giving off a glow of brilliance.
As they walked past the many beautiful paintings that hung the wall, Tom now had a clear view of Clarissa now that they were in light. He noticed the ripped rags that she had for clothes, and her stained bare feet on the beautiful carpet. From her smell, he could guess she hadn’t bathed for weeks, and her hair looked as if it would harden from all the grime. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her as they walked towards the end of the ornate hallway, to a plain white door that seemed out of place in all the beauty.
“Sir,” began Tom, keeping up with Richard, but he was cut off.
“Call me Mr. Wells,” said Richard, pulling out his keys as they neared the door.
“Right, Mr. Wells,” he said quickly, correcting himself, “Don’t you think that you should, I don’t know, at least give this woman a decent bath?”
Richard stopped short of the door. Even Clarissa was shocked. She looked up into Tom’s face. She had thought long ago that all kindness had been sucked out of her life, but here he was, a man she knew nothing about, trying to offer her some help.
Clarissa had forgotten that not all people were evil. But Richard stood frozen, inches from the white door.
“I don’t pay you to give suggestions, Tom,” said Richard with such an icy tone that Tom felt a slight chill run up the length of his spine. Tom hesitated, not sure of what he had done.
“I…understand,” said Tom, slowly. Richard found the key he needed and unlocked the door.
“I’m glad,” he said, opening it, “Now bring her in and then stand guard outside.”
Clarissa limped to the open room at Tom’s side and was pulled inside by Richard, who immediately shut and locked the door. He put Clarissa on a chair that was against the wall, and then brushed himself off.
“Maybe you are a bit too filthy,” said Richard, putting his keys away.
Clarissa eyed him with contempt before she noticed where she was. The room she had just entered was pure white. The walls, the chair she was on, even the ceiling, was white. Then she noticed something strange. There was a large cylindrical machine in the middle of the room, giving off a soft hum. It blended in perfectly with the rest of the room, along with a small pedestal attached to its side. The pedestal had a small container on top that was presently open. Just when she began to wonder what all this was, Richard pulled out a small silver ring from his pocket.
Clarissa heart plunged into her stomach. He had finally figured it out.
“Six years, Clarissa,” he said, giving a small chuckle, “Six years. Today all that research is finally going to pay off. Your precious little ability isn't going to be yours anymore.” He looked longingly at the ring in his hand, and was smiling hugely. Clarissa felt a cold sweat come over her.
“I won’t do it,” she said, her voice shaking. “I won’t let you.” Richard started laughing as she tried to go for the door.
“What are you going to do? Run out of here? We’re in a locked, soundproof room. So you can kick and scream all you want, Clarissa. It won’t do you any good,” said Richard.
Clarissa knew he was right. What could she do? Even if she managed to get out of this room there was no way she could escape with a sprained ankle.
“Now get into the machine,” Richard continued, walking over to the small pedestal and putting the ring inside. He closed the small container and locked it. Clarissa hesitated.
“Take all the time you want, Clarissa,” he said, his smile brightening every second, “I’ve waited six years for this. A few more minutes won’t kill me.”
Clarissa felt defeated. She had nowhere to go. All she could do was get into the machine, and hope that it wouldn’t work.
“I—I’ll do it,” she breathed, not believing what she was about to do.
“Good girl,” Richard said, and went over to help her up. He reached out his hand to Clarissa. She looked at it, and wondered whether this was her only option. She saw no other way out. She had to.
Clarissa grasped his hand.
Richard dragged her over to the cylindrical machine and pushed a small button on its side. Clarissa watched as a small bed slid out of it, stopping inches from her legs.
Straps hung from its sides, and Clarissa slowly lowered herself onto it, feeling like she was committing a horrible crime. Richard quickly bonded her to the bed and pressed the same button once more. The bed began sliding back into the machine, and Clarissa gazed at the pulsing lights that surrounded her.
Then she heard the click of the bed locking into place, and the lights suddenly began glowing more brightly. Richard secured goggles on his eyes as the lights grew brighter. Clarissa felt a small tingle inside her body as the machine’s lights flashed around her. Please don’t work, she pleaded as the tingling sensation flooded her body, Please, God, don’t let it work. The sensation had now become so strong that Clarissa’s body went numb. Now the lights were blinding her, and she felt weightless.
The air was being sucked out of her lungs, and she couldn’t think straight anymore. She suddenly became terrified, wondering whether these moments could be her last.
Then for one, brief moment, the lights around her turned bright red, and her mind went blank. The machine then powered down automatically. Clarissa, barely conscious, looked out through the holes on either side of her. On her left, she saw Richard, pulling out the ring from the pedestal’s container. It had now turned pearl white. Clarissa closed her eyes and turned her head back towards the roof of the machine.
What have I done? She thought, as a tear trickled down her cheek. A feeling of dread filled Clarissa’s body as she lay there on the bed, right before she lost consciousness.
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