forgiveness and fear {kiah}

[pup]

f i o n a

My hands are pressed together, my elbows leaning on my sheets. The door to the room is closed.

This is private.

This is sacred.

My words flow out as barely a whisper as to not let anyone here. This was my secret communion, my prayers like a trickle of water into the silence. I want a response, I need a response, but I know it won't come. Not yet. I know I just need to not be tempted, not let their sickly silken words overcome me. I must always place my mask on and participate their masquerade troop by.

I'll be perfect in front of them, but I won't let their words ensnare me.

I say this in my silent prayers, making sure whoever is listening knows that I won't give into my vices. I pray for peace, I pray for an escape, a way out. I pray for my parents to be safe. That one day they will find me, that I will be able to leave damnation with them.

And I pray for forgiveness.

I pray that I will be forgiven for standing back, letting my fear overcome me.

Sarah. Theon. Carmen. Annabelle.

I pray that I will somehow find solace knowing that I stood back, that I didn't fight for their lives.

I pray that I won't be next on that list.

My words sound listless as whispers, but in my mind I push meaning onto each one. They mean so much, but no one can hear. One slip up, one mistake, and I'll never be able to find my parents ever again. I know they're out there, and I need to find them.

I had already slipped up too much. I shouldn't have closed my eyes when Finn had slid his sword into Annabelle. If anyone had seen me, that's my ticket onto the next fight.

I remember training extra hard the day after, trying to cover up for my mistake, letting my sword slip in and out of dummys like I was Finn slashing through Annabelle. But it was too late. I made my mistake, let myself become less than perfect because I refused to sin.

There's a harsh knock on my door, and my head swings. I stand up, smoothing out the crease in my sheets made by my elbows. I can't let them know that I was still praying. That was less than perfect in their eyes. I can't let anyone here rest their prying, ambitious eyes on my secret pleas for help.

I can't let them take away my only way of crying for help.

I look out my window, it was darkening out. The first stars were just beginning to appear in the sky. They remind me each night that miracles still exist, that I will one day find my own miracle: my way out of hell.

Taking a look at my mirror at my desk, I brush a piece of hair out of my eye before I move towards my door. It was probably just going to be Agnes or Ruth looking for makeup, but I couldn't let myself falter for a moment.

When I swung my door open, I was taken aback for just a moment by surprise. I quickly turned curved my lips upwards into a smile, as if nothing was wrong. I was supposed to always smile. When they had charmed me out of the orphanage they had told me that my smile was one of my best features, that it was perfect. It had become the most integral piece glued to my fragile mask.

"Oh, Victor," I say as if my captor's visit is the highlight of my day, as if I hadn't seen him murder Theon and Carmen because they refused to commit the ultimate sin.

One look at his face told me a story, though. Just as they had taught us.

"Is there something wrong?"

[k!ah]

V I C T O R   S T R A U S S

Victor loathed it when the childeren defied him.

It filled him with a rage that he could barely contained. It burned through his veins, unleashing the dragon that slumbered. He could almost feel slight sympathy for the one who would be on the receiving end of his wrath. No, that is incorrect. He didn't feel sympathy. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt sympathy for anyone but himself. And that was a long time ago. These days he is consumed with one goal. It stole his humanity. though many would argue that he lost that a long time before hand. His parents having consumed it when they lived precariously through him, only to have him fail and move onto their next child. A goal that he will achieve.

His feet move quickly through the mansion. He was on a mission, and new exactly where he was headed. His aura was dark, gloomy and terrifying as he stomped past closed doors, the dinning hall where that darn boy, Finn, sat silently eating his dinner. Victor was very conflicted when it came to Finn. He felt like he should have some sort of respect towards the kid, after all he had come out victorious in the last pairing. But every time he looked at him he felt his skin begin to crawl. Ugh, he was such a displeasure to look at, so much so that he only made Victor's rage increase, the dragon climbing to the surface.

Frustration is expressed in a growl as he travels deeper into the mansion. Finn was not his target today.

No, tonight Finn would escape unscathed. He was one lucky bastard.

Suddenly he stops. He was outside of Fiona's door. He could hear nothing inside, but he knew she was there. She was always there, whispering to herself. He didn't know about what, or to whom, and quite frankly he couldn't give a fuck. As long as she preformed, and she continued to develop he couldn't care less about what she did in her pastime. It surprised him when he had first seen her error. He had thought her to be one of the better ones. But there was no mistaking what he saw. No, he hadn't fucking blinked.

But she had.

She had closed her fucking eyes as the bastard child, Finn, had drove the blade through that other pathetic girls heart. She had looked away. At first Victor had doubted himself. He had thought it might have just been a dancing shadow. But he had been wrong and the darn child had missed it. And that meant she had missed out on one of the most important lessons they were teaching here.

Knuckles rap against wood and a couple moment later the door is swung open and their stands Fiona. She doesn't blink now.

After a brief moment of surprise her lips are turned up with a charming smile. "Oh, Victor," the words slip easily passed her lips, she doesn't even have to think, years of practice paying off.

Victor doesn't smile back. He was a storm in the brewing. Ready to unleash damage.

"Is there something wrong?"

He steps past her, roughly knocking her out the way. "Do you know why I am here?" He asks harshly, his eyes burning into her own, leaving her no chance to escape his furious gaze. "I'm here because you missed a very important lesson." He pauses, as if he was waiting for an answer. But he doesn't. He is not a very patient man. "How dare you defy me like that! After everything me and my family have done for you! We have given you a roof over you head. Fed your greedy mouth, and trained you to be strong. And this is how you repay us?"

Was he being a tad dramatic?

Yes.

But that is Victor for you.

[pup]

f i o n a

Something's wrong. His eyes gave staring daggers a whole new meaning.

I stumble backwards as he forced his way into my room, leaving the door hanging open. My eyes dart to it for a moment while he's pushing his way in. I could run out right now, but no, instead I'm backed into my room.

He turns to face me, locking eyes with me.

"Do you know why I am here?"

I match his stare, refusing to break eye contact with him. I can't show any weakness. I can't let him see who I am, not perfect. The smile still dances on my lips as I gently shake my head no. I can feel his eyes burning through to the back of my skull. How is someone filled with this much anger, this much hatred?

I can still remember the day he had picked me up from the orphanage with Octavia and Killian. They had been so kind, grooming me with their words as if I was their newest pet. It hadn't taken long for that to change, for them to reveal who they really are.

"I'm here because you missed a very important lesson."

My smile falters, just for a moment. It'd be almost imperceptible, but I know he would see, so I quickly regain my clueless smile, taking on a look of innocent confusion. Another mask, another falsification. I know exactly what he's talking about now.

He saw me look away. He saw my weakness. He saw the crack in my disguise. And just like all careers are trained to, he'll exploit my weakness.

"How dare you defy me like that! After everything me and my family have done for you! We have given you a roof over you head. Fed your greedy mouth, and trained you to be strong. And this is how you repay us?"

His raised voice slaps me, as if he had just attacked me. I know exactly what he's talking about, but I wouldn't still be here if I admitted to all of my faults, all of my weaknesses. Perfection is what they want, so that's what I need to pretend to be.

Nonplussed, I don't break his stare, my smile unbeaten by his words. My eyebrows curl together to communicate my confusion, a face I had practiced alongside many others to perfect myself for the cameras.

In my head I mutter a quick prayer, hoping for this to pass soon, hoping for him to just leave my room in peace. I just want to be safe.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" My voice curls up at the end of the sentence, turning it into an open question, dancing around his words. This man is a murderer, the gatekeeper to hell. I won't let him drag me down with him.

[k!ah]

V I C T O R   S T R A U S S

The audacity of this girl.

He couldn't quite fathom how she thought she might get away with it, how she thought that by playing innocent that she might escape from their encounter unscathed.

His eyes bore into hers, and to her credit she does not look away. Her eyes locked onto his. Her smile doesn't even falter. And had it of been in a different circumstance, Victor might have been proud of her. But it wasn't. And Victor was far from impressed. She was playing him for a fool, and Victor was many things (Like a master swordsman, incredibly handsome, and some might say even God-like), but he was no fool. And he would not be played for one either, especially not by one of the childeren. He could see the unease that was buried deep in the depths of her eyes. She knew that his outrage was something to be feared.

With years of practice she managers to effortlessly re-arrange the features of her face. Thanks to Octavia, no doubt, another person who had helped her grow into the person she is today. She looks confused, her eyebrows drawn close in together. Victor wanted to slap the expression right off her face. She was really testing his patience tonight.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Her voice is laced with innocence, her eyes trying so hard not betray her. She refuses to admit what he and she knew what he was here for. And once again, he might have been proud of her, had been in a different situation. But it wasn't and it enraged him that he was using tactics that she had learnt here against him. And maybe just a little bit proud, even though he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she says, as if this might save her. Victor fights the urge to mimic her, remembering that he was not talking to his siblings. He also fought to hold on to his temper, which had already started blurring the lines.

"You don't know, Fiona?" He asked, taking a step closer to her, "well, should I help you recap, then?" He doesn't yell this time. His voice low. Calm. Like the calm before a storm. "You remember Annabelle don't you? Yes. Im sure you do, don't you Fiona. And I'm sure know Finn," he tries not to scowl as the name slips past his lips, "your brother?" He pauses, taking another step so that he is standing with only one foot of space separating them. He loomed over her, so much so, that he had to tilt his head to look her in the eyes. "You remember when Finn killed Annabelle, don't you Fiona? You were there. With the rest of the family. So of course you remember that. But do you remember what it looked like when Finn buried his sword inside Annabelles heart?".

[pup]

f i o n a

I never could figure out what turned people into monsters. Years of tossing and turning at night, the thoughts plaguing my mind never abated. How could people throw themselves into sin, letting their pride overcome them.

There was a point when I wanted that crown on my head too, but it toppled off of my head and out of my imagination alongside the sword falling out of Annabelle. I had let myself become consumed by Octavia's silken flatteries and my quest for my newest parents approval so they would never leave me for dead.

But Victor's eyes told me the story that had been concocted in my mind ever since I saw him slice down two twins, two children. They had been incorruptible, pure, everything that he wasn't and will never be. The sins, the atrocities committed in this house will forever be the whisper in the corner of my mind and the chill down my back every time Victor speaks.

"You don't know, Fiona?" There was barely any room to move now. I wouldn't back up anyways as he draws closer and acts as if I'm the devil's next sinner he'll be dragging to hell tonight. Revealing any sign of weakness is not the point of this masquerade, so I'll play the game he and his vile siblings designed.

I drop my smile, matching his stare. Locking eyes with him just as he taught me. My mouth becomes an emotionless line across my face, leaving my features blank except for my unblinking eyes. If you're ever in a corner, don't just let yourself die. They had told me that as one of my first lessons back when I was naive, back when I was eager to devour their blasphemes.

"You remember Annabelle don't you? Yes. Im sure you do, don't you Fiona. And I'm sure know Finn, your brother?"

Instead of responding, I merely continue to match his gaze, looking up into his eyes.

He can stare daggers all he wants; I'll stare swords.

"You remember when Finn killed Annabelle, don't you Fiona? You were there. With the rest of the family. So of course you remember that. But do you remember what it looked like when Finn buried his sword inside Annabelles heart?"

I can't remember what was never in my memories anyways.

Annabelle's eyes filled with sadness, fear, desperation, hope, and forgiveness just before he plunged his sword into her, yes.

The darkness, my own fear, disgust, hopelessness consuming my vision.

Then Annabelle's lifeless form, a dripping sword clutched by Finn, yes.

Never the sword piercing her heart, no.

"How could I forget?" My voice no longer contains any hint of happiness, just ice.

Just as you taught me, Victor.

[k!ah]

V I C T O R   S T R A U S S

For the first time her smile drops.

The intensity of her graze matching Victors.

The last words fall from his mouth, dripping with venom.

Then words escape past her lips, they each down Victors throat, rousing the dragon.

"How could I forget?"

And the dragon is released.

His hand moves faster than his mind. His fingers meet flesh. The sharp sound of flesh striking flesh fills the air. Then silence.

Victors hand stings slightly. He watches as a small trail of red liquid begins to leak from the corner of Fiona's mouth. She had lied to him. Over and over and over again. She had pulled the last straw and he had snapped. He had not held back. He did not regret his actions, his body still buzzing from rage which was boiling in his blood.

What else could you expect?

You poke the dragon,

You are asking to be bitten.

He steps back from the girl, flexing his fingers, he examines them. The skin is flushed the colour of one of the roses in the front yard. But their condition is nothing compared to the bruise that was already beginning to blossom on the girl cheek. The skin of the girls face already forming a clean imprint of where is hand hand landed. A reminder of what happened when he was defied. Not only for her, but for the rest of them. They would all see her face, the mark that was left behind, and they would all be reminded that Victor was not a joke. He was not a fool, and he would not be played for one.

And yet despite himself, he still could not stop the pride that had begun to blossom in his heart. And he hated it. The girl had defied him. She had missed an important lesson, one that he had drilled into them for nearly six years now. And yet, even though he had stormed in here, utterly terrifying, she had used the skills she had been taught. She had managed to hold his gaze, to return it even. And despite the rage it stirred he could not help but be proud. Proud that one day she might actually be able to fill the extremely large boots that he had laid out for each of them. It made him sick.

"You blink again, and this will only be a taster of what to expect." He hissed down at the girl, his eyes shooting daggers. "Next fight, I will be watching you very closely, Fiona." He says as he walks towards the door. He is about to leave when he stops in the doorway, his eyes meeting hers for the last time. "You better be watching very closely. If not I might just have to remove them. Because obviously you aren't using them for what they are for."

[pup]

f i o n a

Gingerly, my hand touches where I was hit. Numbed by shock and fear, it takes a moment for the pain to set in. I straighten my body from the position which Victor's hand forced me into for that moment.

Drawing my hand away from my face, I look down at it. The dark blood settled in small patches on my fingertips.

Why was I surprised. He had killed in front of me before. It was only a matter of time before he came to drag my soul to hell next.

It was in that moment, the seconds as our eyes locked back together, my eyes filled with disbelief and his with unbridled rage, I feared for my life. I had always thought I had held it together, that their words praising me would be enough. I thought that even if they had seen my true imperfections slip through the cracks, none of them, even Victor, would be able to touch me.

I was wrong.

With the force of his slap, he had turned me into who they saw me as, who I truly am: Imperfect.

I could feel my face bruising, my cheek where I had been struck turning any shade of purple. No amount of makeup would truly be able to cover me from this. My siblings' prying eyes will surely make sure word of this travels quickly through the fractured house.

Fiona is the weakest, their ghastly whispers will say, We don't need to worry. She'll be the next in the ring.

"You blink again, and this will only be a taster of what to expect. Next fight, I will be watching you very closely, Fiona." I look up from my hand in disbelief as he leaves me stranded in the corner of my room. Locking eyes with me one last time, it's no longer a spar or a battle of wills, it's a behemoth towering over a broken, scared girl.

"You better be watching very closely. If not I might just have to remove them. Because obviously you aren't using them for what they are for."

I don't respond. I don't call out for him begging for forgiveness like the devil inside me claims that I should do. I don't grovel for my warden to think of me as perfect again just like the day I thought he had been saving me from a life of misery and isolation.

At least I now know what I need to do, and I can't believe why it took me so long to figure it out.

I need to escape.