Man. I've had this idea stored up for about a year. It went through so many changes! Mainly the name; it started off completely different and just turned into 'Insane Angel' recently. Then, I changed the characters a bit, I changed the girl's sanity and I changed who the main characters were. Basically, this is barely the story I started off with -.-;

Oh, and this story's not for the faint of heart. Just saying. In case.


A bitter laugh. She no longer counted the days she's been imprisoned here in this basement, but she was sure it was close to a year now. Soon it would be her 15th birthday, not like she remembered. She didn't even remember her own name.

A crooked grin forces its way across her face at the memory, as she glanced at the rotting corpse just feet from her that used to be her mother. Her head lolled back limply and she laughed loudly, just to clear the air.

She was completely surrounded in blood. And what wasn't blood was vomit, just died with the red tinge of blood. The color made her feel sick all over again. Her hands twitched against the shackles binding her wrists to the walls and made them sting; the cold metal of the chains had long since rubbed the skin away and left a forever unprotected wound to fester, making stinking yellow pus drip down her arms. The last laugh escapes her and she feels a sickening hollowness in her chest. Each laugh had robbed away the good feeling the drug her father had given to her left, and she was feeling depressed again. She struggled on the chains, knowing that was only making her bleed more but didn't care and screamed her father's name, just to hear no answer.

Tears flooded her eyes, stinging past the half clotted blood that almost robbed her of her sight. She was afraid to let them go any farther, they were sure to make a mark past her bloodstained flesh and her father would hurt her even more then usual if she cried, which she always managed to do despite her better judgment. Forgetting this, she cried anyway, wishing from the bottom of her heart that someone would save her from this hell.

Unknown to her, that wish was about to come true. But not before her own personal devil arrived.


It's been a year since General James Walsh had disappeared with his with and 14 year old daughter. It was a skillfully made job- no clues had been left behind to solve this mystery. None, until now.

Only recently, evidence had been found of the whereabouts to the important missing family. Their location had somehow been traced down to a makeshift hut in the middle of the forest in the outskirts of Central. And somehow, the Flame Alchemist had ended up on its doorstep.

The house was made almost completely from decaying black wood that creaked with every step he took. Any and all light was being choked out by forlorning, tangling branches of the blackened forest. Roy's ebony eyes narrowed as he opened the door slowly, preventing any creaking sounds he otherwise might've caused. The smell of sweet rot and old iron smacked him hard in the face.

He coughed lightly and silently, covering his nose and mouth with a gloved hand and crept into the house. Inside, straight from the entrance was a long, narrow hallway. On the far right end was a door, hidden by shadows. He made his way down the hallway, silently passing the door. When he reached the end, he met with another opening, a stone staircase heading into candlelit darkness. The small flame was set at the far end of the room, the light spilling onto dark pink dyed concrete. Strangely, it set off the smell of burning flesh, making him sick to his stomach with memories of Ishbal. The incense-like smoke stung his eyes and made them water, making it hard to see.

He walked into the room, trying his best to ignore the sickening splash of liquid under his feet that he could only assume was blood. He headed towards the light, the smell it was giving off making him horribly curious. As soon as he was close enough to see it, he recoiled back, horror gripping his mind.

A decomposing, mutilating corpse was acting as the candle, its arm propped up as a fire ate away at the strangely dripping green tinged rotten hand. Roy's eyes were suddenly drawn to those of the corpse's, which were wide open and half rotten, coated with paled maggots. Screams of burning children echoed in his ears. He shook his head hard to clear it, bending closer and reaching towards the fire cautiously. The fire automatically snuffled out, and snapping his fingers briskly, the Colonel created a bright red-orange flame to steadily levitate in his cupped hand, bathing the room in its flickering light. Roy inspected the body; besides the steady decomposition it's been through, he could see that both the face and neck were bashed in hard, the neck appearing completely crushed.

Roy looked up, skimming the room. Broken furniture littered the ground, all splashed in dark blood. Set on a broken table, a cracked fish tank sat, its dirty wet and slowly swirling with orange tinged water. He grimaced, turning his attention to the closest corner to him that had been thrown into shadows. He lifted his held fire towards the corner. Another body was on the floor.

The figure was motionless, laying half curled on her side with her legs balled near her chest and both of her arms splayed in front of her. Her entire body was completely caked and smeared with darkened, sticky clots of half dried blood. She was bound heavily, thick ropes tied firmly at the wrists and ankles. A thin, tattered bloody cloth fashioned into a dress clung to her skinny body, soaked in crimson.

He lost his grip on the fire and it extinguished into a puff of smoke. Colonel Mustang slowly went down to his knees beside the girl's broken form, dully ignoring the blood seeping into his cobalt blue pants, and gently rolled her over to her back. It took only moments for his eyes to adjust as he hastily tugged a small but sharp knife from his holster.

As soon as he could see well enough through the darkness, he bent over her and sawed away at the rope, quickly freeing her bony arms. Yellowing pus splashed onto his palms from festering cuts on the underside of her wrists. He cringed, and moved down to her legs, his hands shaking uncontrollably after he wiped them off on his military jacket.

He finished as quickly as possible and inspected her face for a moment. Her eyes were closed and circled with black. Skin as white and fragile as paper desperately clung to her thin, bony face. A tiny river of blood crept sluggishly through the corner of her parted mouth, past dry and cracked lips; any flesh still on her face was covered in deep gashes and almost shining scar tissue. Her nose looked at one point broken and was heading in the wrong angle. In short, her face completely resembled a haunted skull.

Grimacing for the second time, he checked the limp girl's pulse sharply. She's alive, he thought in relief, but just barely. The Colonel slipped an arm under her back, frowning as he felt her spine and ribs stick out prominent through her skin, and slid the other arm under her legs, standing and lifting her off the ground as carefully as possible.

Her arms hung at her sides unsupported, and her head lolled back, her eyelids snapping open like a blinking doll when its head is tilted. She stared straight ahead, her eyes wide in terror, her pupils dilated but large enough to completely envelop the color of her irises. Only the whites really showed; her right eye red-black where the blood vessels had burst open. Her body started twitching spasmodically. He frowned, his jaw clenching as he lifted her dragging arms off from the floor.

She suddenly jerked in her arms, a loud snapping sound striking through the air. Her mouth fell open, and a dark, bloodcurdling scream ripped hoarsely from her throat. Her arm, even though it was impossible to tell before, was now clearly broken. Her upper arm was crooked, and it had snapped at the elbow, bending completely in the opposite way then it should, red streaked white bone ripping through her thin flesh and protruding out sharply.

Roy almost dropped her, his heart jumping into his throat. He frantically tried to silence her, attempting to lay her arm across her chest in the least painful away possible. It didn't do any good, her eyes closed and her head fell, resting against his chest, her mouth hanging slightly open as she once again lost her hold of consciousness.

He sighed in relief and frustration, the echoes of her scream still rattling the air. Broken words tumbled out of her damaged mouth as he started carrying her across the room, spilling out like vomit. What she was saying didn't make sense though. It was like a language of her own.

He stopped. A figure blocked the way into the staircase, watching him interestingly with icy blue eyes. The man's arms were folded in front of his chest, his face thin and bony like the girl's. "Huh...I'd never thought that the one to 'save' my daughter would be the Flame Alchemist himself." He whispered wonderingly. "What took you so long...?"

The Colonel stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowing. He recognized the voice, however mad it sounded. "General Walsh..." He breathed out in a low growl. "Don't tell me you did this."

"Drop the formality, Mustang." He replied with a small smirk, taking a wet step forward. "Isn't it beautiful...? Doesn't it just take your breath away, seeing my little angel covered in blood like this?" He asked, lovingly stroking the girl's face, tracing against her cheekbone and down her neck. "A picture of perfection, a pure and tortured simple really..." He touched a large, reddish black bruise on her shoulder and pressed her finger down, making her wince and whimper under her breath.

Roy jerked his arm back, pulling her away from him. "You sick bastard, why the hell-"

"Don't fucking lecture me. You don't think she has enough time left, do you?" James snarled, interrupting him. "I did what I had to. Bring her to a hospital and get her healed. That's an order." He frowned slightly. "I will not allow my little lily to die, so go. I'll be back for her." After a quick salute, he turned and ran up the steps, disappearing into its darkness.

He glared after him. He'd rather burn him to ashes right now, instead of following the maniac's orders, even if the bastard was right. Her breaths had shallowed, coming out in short, slow rasping gasps. He followed the General up the stairs, going up two steps at a time. He reached the top just in time to see the black door besides the staircase slam shut. He passed it briskly and went down as fast as he could without hurting the girl any more. He kicked the door open and marched down the steps of the broken porch, a few feet into the trees where he met the group of volunteered soldiers who had accompanied him. A couple of them gave long, shocked stares at the girl in his arms. He ignored them, walking towards where Riza Hawkeye watched him, trying to ignore the undisguised look of sick horror she had on her face.

"Lieutenant, go and tell the people waiting at the medical van to bring a stretcher for the girl. Then get Hughes to bring the rest of the Investigations department down; we got a dead body in the basement." He ordered stiffly. She nodded and saluted, turning on her heel and walking briskly to the edge of the forest. Roy faced the other soldiers, who all snapped to attention. "Walsh is inside, but it looks like he's gone mad. Get in there and kill him." He told them, trying hard to conceal the anger in their voice. They all saluted and raised their guns, running in the opposite direction, towards the house.

Roy sighed, his frown growing as he looked down at the girl. She winced again, her body starting to tremble again. "T-tsyhanne...pudasu tsyhanne..." She mumbled hoarsely. He sighed and headed for the direction Riza had left, a trail of her blood following him down the trail.


Woah. Long chapter. I blame all the descriptions...-sweatdrop- But yay horror!

Please review!