Young Writers Society

Prologue

Aurora Blakefield

Raven colored hair cascades over an innocent face, onto pale shoulders, obscuring vivid green eyes. Her plain, off-white dress drips from her small frame, pooling at her ankles. Her hand, its wrist bruised and shackled to the desk, moves over the blank page freely. She has only seconds to finish her most recent novel before Adanna comes to take it from her but she's not done yet. The words are still coming, flowing easily through her mind and onto the page without hesitation. She tries to hurry, forcing herself to stay focused on the task at hand, but it isn't easy. It's not possible. Not this time. This time, the work is too long for the time she's been given. There is no way she can finish it in time.

The chair she's sitting in, like the rest of the room, is white. Plain. The walls are bare, the floor made of stone. There's nothing in it, either, save for the small desk at which she now sits and a bed. Both have shackles hooked to them to keep her from escaping. Escape, however, is something that Aurora has not thought of in a long time. The last time she dared to think of escaping was two years ago, on the night her father died. She had been sixteen then, young and not yet smart enough to know better. All she'd wanted to do was see Papa before he died. That's all. But Adanna found out and put a stop to it. If she ever tried it again, Adanna had told her, she would kill her. The threat of her own death hadn't been what made her listen, however. What had made her listen was the look on Adanna's face, the unholy hatred she saw in her twin's identical green eyes. If she had ever doubted the evil in Adanna's heart, that hatred banished it. Adanna was evil. She was, as Papa had once said, the dark twin. At only eighteen years old, Aurora is unlike most young women her age. Most of them spend this time with their families, with boys even. Aurora is alone. Always alone. She is dead to everyone else, Adanna has made sure of that. The thought of Adanna's lies sends a wave of rage washing over her. It is this rage that drives her, that brings passion to the novels that have made her sister famous.

She knows her death is drawing near, can feel it coming just as she can feel the child inside her begin to kick. The baby will be here soon, she knows, and with the baby comes her own death. Though tears rush to her eyes, she knows it's for the best. Her death will give her child freedom, freedom it would not have otherwise. If she does not die her child will grow up here, used by Adanna to keep her in line. She can't have that for her child. This baby deserves better than that. She deserves better than Adanna. And she will have better than this.

Aurora's thoughts fade as she hears her sister's footsteps on the stairs. Quickly, but neatly, she scrawls 'The End' at the bottom of the manuscript. She's just finished when the door opens, revealing her sister. Adanna looks just as immaculate as ever, her long black hair piled on top of her head, silk draped over every inch of her body. She looks innocent, like the angel Mother always believed her to be, save for the smile on her face. That smile is full of hatred, of rage that burns Aurora's fragile skin. It's not the smile she usually wears when she comes to retrieve the manuscript and suddenly Aurora is terrified. That terror becomes reality when her sister speaks, the familiar voice low and sickly-sweet.

"Why didn't you tell me that you are with child, dear sister? Were you afraid?"

Slowly, Aurora raises her head. Looking directly into Adanna's eyes she says, "I am not afraid of you Adanna. I simply did not know how to tell you."

Though her voice is strong Aurora can feel the terror jumping at her heart. The smile on Adanna's face turns to a smirk and Aurora knows that she's been caught. She will not make it out of this alive. Not this time. Adanna's next words confirm this fact and suddenly Aurora finds herself praying to God to save her soul.

"I'm sorry for this, Aurora, but you've earned it. I've given you chance after chance and yet you still continue to disobey me. Goodbye Aurora."

Adanna turns from her as if to leave but quickly turns back. Pulling a key from her pocket, she walks towards her sister and unlocks the shackles. One hand grabs the manuscript from the desk, the other wraps around Aurora's wrist, yanking her from the room. Roughly, Adanna drags her up four flights of stairs and into her old bedroom where she's told to grab clothes, nice ones. She complies, fear rushing over her, as Adanna drags her out of the room and into a bathroom. Locking the door behind them, Adanna smirks again.

"Take your clothes off and get dressed. Now."

Aurora does as she's asked, fighting back the tears that threaten to roll down her face. Closing her eyes, she lets the loose white nightgown slip from her shoulders and to the floor. A tear escapes her eye as she picks up the dress, a long velvet one that looks as if it belongs on a street-woman. She's aware of Adanna watching her, the identical eyes filled with hatred. She's always wanted this, Aurora knows. Humiliating Aurora is Adanna's life goal. Stealing her talent, keeping her locked up, spreading vicious lies around town; it's all part of Adanna's plan. Aurora had once hoped to escape someday, to live out the rest of her days in peace, but she knows now that it will never happen. She'll die here, in the very house that shelters the Devil himself.

"Come on. Back to your room."

Adanna's hand shoves roughly, sending Aurora stumbling into the hallway again. Tears are streaming down her face now, faster than before, the icy terror she feels is in her throat. Seconds feel like hours as Adanna leads her back down to the small basement room that has become her home. The door is unlocked already, men standing inside. The fear is white-hot now and all consuming. Adanna shoves her into the room, leading her towards the bed. There are more shackles on it then when she left, tighter ones. Squeezing her eyes closed, Aurora tries in vain to block out the world as she's shackled into place on the bed. Her legs are spead, her dress torn. She feels a rough hand rip at her undergarments and locks a scream tightly in her throat. Adanna's laughter fills the room as the men climb over her. They're touching her everywhere, their hands staining her body with filth. Different hands take turns shoving into her private place, stretching it until she thinks she'll die. They're all laughing, enjoying the sight of her pain, and suddenly her fear is overwhelming. She can't open her eyes; doesn't want to know what she'll see.

As their groping hands turn to fists, their laughter to anger, she feels her baby die within her. A gush of hot, thick blood stains the bed and she knows her baby is gone. Her last link to who she could have been is destroyed. The pain and terror is replaced by rage, a rage that consumes her very soul. Vivid blue eyes snap open, staring into their mirror image. The terror she once felt is reflected in Adanna's eyes now but it doesn't give her any peace. All she feels is anger. As the last of her life drains from her body, Aurora looks once again into her sister's eyes. Finding her voice, she whispers a final sentence.

"This isn't over Adanna."