Chapter One –
Love Works In Strange Ways
"I didn't mean to, Sir, really-" her little voice wanted to say more, but all that came out afterwards was a small squeak as his sharp nails scratched her pale skin. He was bringing his strong, un-gloved fingers around her frail, child-like, neck. Wrapping them tightly around, she was prevented the pleasure of breathing. His hands were warm; his fingers were tight.
Panic struck her as she tried to bring air to her lungs. She brought her own fingers to his, trying to pry them open; she wanted air! She needed it! Others like her had died the same way, so what was preventing him from doing the same to her? Her eyes looked up, deep into his. His terrifying purple gems were glowing evilly; his lips curled upwards into a smirk, shaking as he tried not to laugh at her suffering.
Her fingers had given up on hope of pulling his away; they were turning limp like the rest of her body. Her lungs were hurting from the lack of air she was getting; her eyes were slowly closing as she realized her fate.
But then, his fingers suddenly loosened; in a split second his hand was back by his side and the sudden rush of air caused her to choke furiously. Before her mind had anytime to understand what was going on, why she was choking so much, he had hit her with such strength it pushed her down to the floor.
There was a chorus of pain as she felt her hip pop as it hit the hard floor. Her knee clicked, her elbow did too and her head banged against it painfully. Her chest had hit it too, making the choking much more painful for her. She lay there, unsure of what to do. She felt too weak to move, and she felt too frightened; would her white headed Master strike her again? Would he kill her?
He stared down at her, too angry to speak. As he turned to head for the door without a second glance to his beautiful Kirshwasser, he hit the wall. The sudden bang caused the girl to jump; her eyes widened in fear.
Her sight had gotten blurry as she tried to watch him leave. It took her a second to realize tears were streaming down her face at a fast pace, refusing to stop. The door slid open, and then swiftly closed as he left the room. A cough left her throat; she felt a warm liquid spray from her mouth. Rubbing her eyes so that her vision was clear, she could see her red blood sprayed on the floor. A little was on her lip, which she wiped away.
It was another day where she had done something on accident to anger her Master; something else that made him so angry with her that he beat her black and blue. Unlike the others, she wasn't destined to death. She was one that got to feel his 'love' for her all the time; the only one he didn't kill. He gave her enough pain to knock her out; to nearly kill her but never enough to actually do the job. If he was ever angry with her to the point he wanted her dead, he'd kill one of her sisters.
More blood ran down her lip, dripping to the floor in three large droplets.
'Something to clean …' she thought to herself. 'I cannot let him see that I bled.'
With soft fingers, she rubbed her damp bloodshot eyes, clearing her vision. She was dizzy and felt sick to the stomach. Her body ached, even though he hadn't pushed her to the ground that hard. Her cheek was sore too, from where he had hit her with his strong hands. With the little bit of energy she had left inside of her, she rolled over onto her hands and knees. Pain shot up her legs from the weight of her going onto her knees, making her gasp deeply. Still, she tried to ignore it, pretending there was no ache.
Weakly, she crawled to the corner of the darkened room, coughing loudly as she did so. The corner was where she felt safe from him and for her life. When she got there, she turned her back to lean on the cold wall that sent shivers up her spine. Like a neglected child, she brought her injured knees up to her chest, holding them close to her. Wrapping her arms around them, she hugged them tightly; her chin rested on her knees. Her eyes glazed foreword across the room. She noticed more blood stains on the ground of his bedroom.
'More to clean.'
Sighing deeply, she looked down at herself. Her eyes looked at her arms to examine her injuries more closely. Her elbows were red and sore; she knew that they would turn purple by the next day from bruising. A few scratches were here and there; nothing that bad. She brought her shaking hands to her face, looking at their damages.
Her index finger on her left hand had changed colour to a dark shade of purple; from the tip to the end. Her nail was chipped, caked in dry blood. She had sustained the injury the morning of the previous day. He had ordered her to get a gun for one of the guards on the ship. She obeyed, going down to collect one but she hadn't realized how badly they had been placed on the shelves. Her hip banged into the wooden shelf, knocking one down to meet with her finger.
Taking her mind from her finger, she looked at her light purple coloured knuckles and the scraps on her skin. So many injuries she had gained, she forgot the reasons for half of them. A deep sigh left her lips as she pulled herself tighter. If only she hadn't said the wrong thing, she wouldn't be in this situation; she would be …
She wasn't sure what she would be doing, but anything would be better then hiding in the corner of the room, waiting for him to return with more kicks and punches for her.
Tears had begun to stream down her face yet again. She buried her head into her hands, sobbing as quietly as she could: she couldn't afford for him to hear her sobbing.
'Faith he doesn't do it on purpose,' a voice in her head told her. 'He's just angry, don't worry about it girl. He loves you.'
She sobbed louder at the horrible lies the voice was telling her.
That was it; her sobbing was too loud now. She tried closing her throat, stopping the horrible noise from escaping but it didn't work. She was panicking; if he caught her crying so much he'd beat her; he'd emotionally damage her. She wanted everything the voice was saying to be true, yet she knew it would never be that way, which caused more sobs and tears to leave her.
Biting down onto her hand, she screamed into her flesh. The pain needed to take her mind off it all; pain was the only way to get herself to stop crying. Though, at that point in time she was sure most of the tears were streaming down her face because of the flesh she was tearing. A metallic taste touched her tongue, causing her to flinch and pull her teeth away from her hand.
"Idiot …" she hissed, looking at her bloody hand. A line of red liquid ran down to her wrist, running part way around before dropping onto the ground.
She noticed a smudge of her blue lipstick had stained her dark skin. Frantically, she wiped it away with her finger.
Her sobbing had disappeared, her breathing was back to an even rhythm and her tears were slowing as they came down her face. She breathed out deeply, calming her heart then leaned the back of her head on the cold wall.
"What a day," she whispered, feeling her voice break. She tried to pull her smudged blue lips into a smile, but she couldn't hold it for long.
Faith looked up at the ceiling; letting a sigh leave her throat. It would be a long night with her white Master gone. He would probably be out for a few hours, trying to calm down and then he'd be back, furious with her for doing something wrong. She knew his patterns well: she knew when he'd be going, when he might come back and where he would be. Like at the moment she knew he would be on the bridge, probably playing a psychological game on someone. And obviously he would be winning.
Feeling slightly better then before, Faith pushed herself to her feet; using the wall as support. Her body was sore, but it felt better then it had done. Her eyes blurred for a second when she stood, but soon her sight was clear again. Some blood had dried around her lips; the blood on her hand was already drying on her skin and she knew she needed a shower. She felt so … dirty from being hit around by him so much.
Limping, she slowly made her way to the other side of his room. She noticed a few strands of silver hair on the ground, where he had pulled her hair from her. Ignoring it, she put her head to the large door, listening intently. For a few seconds she stayed like that, to make sure no one was around. She always felt … creped out by the guards and other people that lived on the ship with them. They had strange eyes that just looked: they looked and stared, contemplating something. Their eyes laughed at her, laughed at all the pain she was forced to endure. Laughed at how many of her sisters had died.
Knowing it was clear; she turned around and limped to another door. She held her arms close to her chest, feeling slightly anxious as the door slid open for her. The bathroom was dark but was soon put in light when she stepped inside.
It was a beautiful room, with two large, expensive mirrors on two walls, a large shower was in the right corner, a toilet opposite and running across the right wall was a large, white bath. She shut the door behind herself, locking it firmly as she did so. She turned the taps on for a soothing bath that she craved. As she waited for the warm water to fill the tub, she walked to the sink, where a mirror was being held above it.
Her hands ran through her silver hair that stopped at the centre of her back. A little angry expression came to her, and she pulled the silver hair away, revealing that it was only a wig. She threw the silver wig onto the floor in anger, hesitating to look back at the mirror.
Under the wig was her normal hair. It was shoulder length, as straight-as-a-pin. It was messy in some places, spiking out here and there; her bangs brushed across her forehead, starting off short then going longer until they blended in with the rest of her hair. Her hair was a beautiful pastel pink shade, with dark red highlights going through it. Her fingers ran through her soft hair; a tear ran down her cheek.
"Faith …" she whispered, looking at the rest of herself.
Her eyes were gold, just like other like her. That was the only thing that made her look like her sisters: her golden eyes. Her skin was a lighter shade then theirs, her hair was completely different and her height was a little bit taller then theirs. Her Master made her wear the wig, so that she would look like them. She didn't understand why though. He even gave her a uniform like theirs but a different colour. Instead of the blues, whites and silvers they wore, she was forced to wear greens, blacks and some blue.
A few more tears ran down her face. Her eyes returned to her reflection, seeing how bloodshot her gems really were. She looked sickly, as usual, which disgusted her.
"God, Faith," she hissed at herself. She put her hands on the sink, leaning foreword. "Why can't you be strong?"
She stood there for a few moments, before collecting more energy to get undressed. She dumped her cloths in the middle of the bathroom, happy to have shed them from her skin. Turning off the tap, she put her body into the warm water. It stung some of her cuts, making her gasp slightly but she ignored the pain, making herself relax.
The water felt good against her skin. She washed herself thoroughly, letting her skin and hair become all soapy. Aching was slowly becoming part of the past the longer she stayed soaking in the water.
After a few moments there was a sudden banging at the door, causing Faith to skittishly flinch. She froze, feeling the water brushing up and down against her skin. "Damn …"
"Is that you in there, Faith?" his deep voice asked. It was muffled, but still just as frightening.
"Y-yes Sir," she answered, her voice shaking with her fear.
"There's a doll here, wishing to see you," he said, anger in his tone. "But as you're busy at the moment, I'll occupy her while she waits."
"No, leave her be!" Faith cried, suddenly standing up. Water sprayed down from her, running down her silky skin. Not caring about how wet she would get the floor, she stepped out of the bath.
"Have you been bleeding, Faith?"
Frozen, she felt her heart skip a beat. She felt the water dripping from her quickly; her body was beginning to feel cold. He repeated her name, yet she had no answer. Her mouth was open and she began to fear the worse.
"Carry on with your bath, Faith," he sourly said. She frowned; he was planning something, but what she didn't know. "Don't worry about it."
"Dolls need to be clean too," he said, his voice much quieter. He was moving away from the door.
Faith returned to the bath, nodding ever so slightly. "Yes sir," she said, unwilling to argue wit him. In the morning she probably would, but her body was too sore at the moment: she didn't want to have another beating straight after having one.
It didn't take long until she had finished and was drying her soft skin with the towel. She emptied the bath, sliding her usual cloths back onto her skin. She shut her eyes painfully as the uniform returned to her, making her feel like nothing more then a doll he wished for her to be. Although she put on the uniform, she left the wig sitting on its own by the sink; refusing to place it on her head. She didn't want to be another Kirshwasser; just for one night she wanted to be Faith.
Breathing out, she pushed the button for the door to open. As it did her eyes met with a horrifying sight, causing her to step back and scream in repulsion mixed with terror. Her sister was lying limp on the floor, her beautiful skin covered in ruby red blood; her cloths torn and her hair was a mess. Her gold eyes were open, yet they showed no life in them. Her hand was out, as if she had been reaching for someone.
Faith's hands trembled: it was Faith; her sister was reaching out for her. Her sister wanted her to save her from that man.
"You bastard!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Quickly, she ran out of the bathroom, ready to face her Master; her eyes were showing fear, though her hands were clenched in anger. Her entire body was shaking immensely and she wasn't sure herself whether it was from fear or from anger towards him for destroying the life of her sister.
Albedo was sat on his bed, a calm expression on his face as if he had done nothing wrong. In his arms, he was cradling another Kirshwasser; another one of her sisters, but this one looked quite content being in his arms. There was a small smile on her face; her eyes refused to look away from his, even with Faith being in the room.
"Why the hell did you do that?" she screeched.
"Oh Faith, dear," he laughed, keeping his eyes on the kirshwasser. "You know there are hundreds of them left. One is made everyday, what's the trouble in wasting some of them?"
He suddenly snapped the neck of the one he held, killing her instantly. Faith froze in horror, watching as he dropped her limp sister to the ground. She landed near Faith's feet, causing her to step backwards. Her shaking hands came to her mouth, stopping herself from screaming. She was sure of it: she was frightened of the madman in front of her. Ice fear crawled up her spine, causing her to shiver.
Albedo's eyes looked up at her. He frowned; leaning his head closer. "Hmm?" he blinked a few times, his eyes set curiously on her hair. "You know I do not care much for these pink locks, don't you?"
"I …" her throat was so dry she couldn't speak. She managed to bring her hand to her hair, twisting it softly.
He stepped off the bed, coming close to her. She hunched her shoulders dejectedly, forcing her eyes to look away from him. Like a small child, she found herself shaking as her tall Master looked down at her; his purple eyes glowing in a way to show danger.
He put a gloved finger on her chin, forcing her head to look up at him. He smiled, feeding on the fear that was emitting from her skin; her eyes. He enjoyed the fear so much he held lightly onto her shaking hand, absorbing the tremble. "Ahhh such a wonderful emotion …" he whispered, closing his eyes to savour the moment, even though he knew it would be easy to get the emotion back into her blood.
Faith frowned a little, trying to move back. "Please, Sir, let me go. I'll put the wig on if you wish."
"I suppose …" he said, re-opening his eyes. "That you may have your hair like this for now."
Faith raised a brow, but nodded. "Thank you, Sir."
"Now clean up!" he snapped, slapping her head so hard a shriek left her lips. She held her head as he yelled, holding back tears. "Do you really think I want such disgusting fluid on my floor?"
"No sir," she quickly said, shaking her head.
"You shouldn't even have any," he said, poking her nose. He gave her a small smile. "You're just a toy, after all, aren't you?"
Staring at his thin finger, she stayed silent; eyes open wide.
"Aren't you?" he repeated, louder then before. His bellow caused her to jump followed by a quick shake of her head.
"I'm not a doll," she quietly countered. Her voice was breaking, though she tried to stay strong.
"Really?" he asked.
Suddenly, he grabbed her arm, pulling her body against his. Before she had a chance to do or say anything, his lips had covered hers. She tried to pull away but one hand was placed firmly at her neck; the other held her arms together. Her fists clenched as his tongue came into her mouth. 'Stop it, stop it …'
He smiled as she tried to pull away, refusing to let her tongue touch his. After a few moments he let go of her; his hands released their grip and in seconds she had made it to the other side of the room. She spat on the ground, his unwanted saliva left her mouth. Her body was hunched, she felt as if she was going to be sick; her eyes looked at Albedo, who was standing with the usual menace smile on his face.
"Strange," he said, licking his lips. "You certainly taste like them."
"We eat and drink the same stuff. We use the same toothpaste," she hissed, leaning a hand on the wall. "Your experiment failed."
"Oh?" he smirked, stepping foreword. "Your mouth isn't the only place I can taste …"
"You wouldn't dare," Faith said, moving backwards. She inched her way closer to the door, her heart pounding quicker then ever before. Her body felt exposed to the madman, and she feared he would do the one thing he hadn't done to her that he did to her sisters.
He moved closer, and then flicked her nose. "Go clear up." He smirked. "Otherwise I really will do that to you," he stroked her face. "Such a beautiful doll you are, I'm surprised I haven't already."
"Keep your hands off me," she glared, pushing the button to open the door. "And keep your sour tongue to yourself."
With swift feet, she left the room, hearing the door slam behind her. She sighed deeply, leaning her back on the wall. She felt a small sense of relief being out of the room; it was … amazing. Now, if only she could make it to the storage room without the guards giving her those horribly dirty looks. They were horrible people those guards were: like everyone else on the ship. She hated being near anyone apart from her sisters: her sisters were the only people that didn't want to hurt her, but as the days went on there were getting less and less of them.