I wrote this story at least 3 times so it could be my best - I don't know why, but after 'Trust Me' I expect better from me.
Chapter One: Lost in Torment
Phantom sprawled out on his back, staring unseeing up at the cobweb ceiling. He knew he was supposed to be deep asleep by now, but he just couldn't fall asleep - not now, not when only a couple of days ago he had run from Caldera with 285 ARMs. The adrenalin was still pumping in his system as he lay in an inn called 'The Cheerful Monk' in the middle of a small town called Vestry. Diana - the beautiful woman that had rescued him from his cell - had departed that afternoon. She told him to lay low and build up his strength until she contacted him again. She then gave him several ARMs and disappeared with the rest of them.
It was nearly Dawn; the crickets were chirping their goodbyes and various other night-sounds were fading away. He listened to the fading noise and felt relief. Something had changed inside of him. Ten years ago he had loved the sound of Night-time as he fell asleep, now it just made him feel sick and reminded him of the eternal Night of the prison. As he thought of this hot sick boiled in his throat and hate pulsated through his veins. It wasn't fair.
Phantom screwed his eyes up as the now familiar feeling of resentment took control of his body. Ever since being locked in prison he detested everything. The birds, the trees, the plants, the flowers and most of all... the humans. He became restless again as the scorching need of vengeance consumed him. Now he sat, panting hard. He just wanted to hurt something. He just wanted to hurt something. He wanted to stab, torture, rip apart, break bones, slice into flesh, dismember and kill.
"Patience," Diana had told him that morning when he had voiced his feelings. "You'll be able to do all that and more. You just need to wait until things die down."
Phantom snorted as he stood to cross the confined room to look into the mirror. He stared upon the horrific face in front of him. He still didn't recognise it as himself. He had aged since the last time he had looked at his reflection. His purple eyes were dull and sunken into shadowy sockets. His silvery hair was dirty, overgrown, messy and knotted. He used to look young and gorgeous; now he just looked like a waxy-skinned corpse. It wasn't fair. He was put in prison because his parents loved him too much to kill him. All because They didn't understand the Orb.
"I will make them pay!" he cried at his reflection, trying to see the innocent boy he once was. Impossible, all he saw was a portrait of torment and agony.
With that thought, Phantom went back to his bed, knelt and searched under it. He pulled out a large chest. When opened, an ominous purple glow lit up the room. The warmth from the glow made his resentment drain away. He smiled.
"You are angry... Am I correct?" the cold echoing voice of the Orb asked.
"It's unfair," Phantom replied. He placed his bony hands on the polished surface of the Orb, caressing the cool unyielding stone.
"Life is unfair. That is why you make it fair."
Phantom agreed. His heart was racing as he felt the Orb's power course through his fingers.
"Will you teach me?"
"Only if you obey my every command," the Orb replied after a moment's pause. Phantom nodded.
"I will," he agreed eagerly, "Anything to make them pay."
It was a golden morning. Phantom scuttled downstairs to the tavern, still wide awake even though he hadn't slept once during the night. He was slightly surprised to see that the tavern was already crowded, even though it was early in the morning. The only reason he had come down here was because he wasn't used to the freedom. He wove his way through the crowd of drunken sailors and lone cloaked travellers to the bar. He sat down on a rusty barstool and ordered the only drink that he could remember. It was the kind of wine that his mother preferred.
He took a sip of the warm fruity drink and was comfortable slightly. It suppressed his feelings of wrath and vengeance, but it sharpened the dull pain in his heart. He suffered from insomnia and depression ever since his parents' deaths and he kept seeing the mangled corpses of his parents hanging from the ceiling. He saw his mother's blank lifeless eyes staring through him... He shuddered, gulping a mouthful of drink. He willed the pain to be washed away. As he glanced around the room, he noticed a tall, thin guy wearing a dress and a pointy hat standing near the far wall watching him. He stared back at the freak for a few minutes then turned away, not bothering to care. 'If he wants to stare, let him. He will never know who I am or what I'm about to become,' he thought, ordering another drink.
He looked around once more, his eyes falling on a beautiful waitress. She lightly walked amongst the tables taking orders and delivering the drinks on a tray to the men. She may have been a merchant sailor, or the daughter of one - Phantom wasn't sure - and she had long turquoise hair. He watched her as he sipped his drink. He had been locked away from human contact for ten years since he was a child. He had forgotten love or kindness. All he knew was hate and a pitch black darkness that became his very essence. When Diana saved him from prison, he was bewitched by her beauty. After so long in a damp dark grey cell he had forgotten what beauty was. But Diana was only beauty and his promise of revenge. This girl was something else. He liked watching her. It made him feel good.
He ordered another drink, feeling tipsy now. He smirked to himself, deciding that if she should come near him he would ask her to join him. He thought the gesture was ridiculous. A corpse-like ex-inmate asking a beautiful (and probably rich) girl if she'd like a drink with him? He'd most likely have more success with the creep in the dress.
That's when he noticed some rowdy hairy sailor groping the girl. She was trying to stop him, but no one else seemed to care. He felt enraged. How dare he treat the pretty girl like that!
Without thinking, probably because of all the alcohol in his system, he stood to his feet and rushed straight to the guy. In one movement, he pulled the girl off him and punched him square in the face. The bar suddenly fell into silence; every pair of eyes seemed to be on him.
The guy he had punched stood up, looming like a boulder over him and crackling his knuckles menacingly. He drew up his fist and hit Phantom back hard.
Phantom flew backwards as if hit by a bus. Little stars danced before his eyes as blood flooded from his broken nose. He blinked the pain away and found himself lying on his back in the middle of the room, even thought he couldn't remember being put there. He staggered to his feet, holding his head. He glanced blearily around, but before he could get his bearings the man kicked his chin. He fell back, dazed. Before he blacked out he saw the girl run out of the inn and he knew she would be safe.