Cobble Stones

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl grown to abuse finaly escapes, but what good does that do her?

Submitted: July 02, 2011

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Submitted: July 02, 2011



She fell to the blood spattered cobble stones beneath her on impact.  A wheeze escaped from her throat as she crumpled to a heap. Everything in her ached horribly when she braced herself for the next hit of Master’s cruel beating stick.  The swing came full on to her abdomen.  A scream was let loose from her vocal chords into the pitch black sky. The noise was swallowed up by the raging wind for no one to hear her pleas of death. Anything would have been better, even to end her life this tragic way.  A gleam of metal flashed and new pain was brought down on her. Blood flowed freely from the deep gash going down her back.

“You’re worthless. You were a mistake to be born.” Master’s dark raspy voice set over her, making her believe it herself. “You are nothing. You are a disgrace to me and the rest of the world. No one will ever smile kindly upon you.”  The words resonated through her mind. Then it struck her. She knew her life has been picked out for her, and she’s going to live it to the extent.

With a hard shove she broke free from Master’s firm grasp and took to a run against her body’s protest.  She took off down the street and into the lonely little town.  The dark sky cast shadows over the small buildings and the few people on the streets gawked at her tattooed body striking past in shredded rags. 

From there she ran into the dark alleys concealed in the shadows. Voices whispered dark telling from all around. She hurried through the abandon boulevard. Tendrils of nothingness reach for her scarred body, pulling her close. She struggled but nothing would break the firm grasp that held onto her.  She shouted for help, anything that would get the wisps of dark to let go.

She was rewarded with the creaking of hinges in need of an oiling, spilling light onto the alleyway. A tall slender man’s silhouette stood in the door frame. “Hello? Is anyone out there?” His velvety voice flowed over her, wanting to just listen to that voice, so smooth compared to the gravelly one she knew of before.

The girl was only able to give a small whimper as the tendrils pulled her farther away still. Slowly the square of light grew smaller and smaller in the distance.  The last thing her fogged mind registered before passing out was the beat of more than one set of footsteps nearing.

An aroma of cuisine drifts into her nose, awakening a deep hunger in her stomach.  A spiking pain pulsed in her back where she discovered a bandage over her wound. She looked around her to see that she was in a clean kitchen where two men sat discussing important matters in hushed voices. She heard drifts of the conversation. Who is she….She can’t stay here….where will she go….where did she come from… ect.  A low moan escaped her throat and the men looked up from their conversation.

 “She’s awake!” That same velvety voice poured through her ears like honey.  She would listen to him speak all day if she could. “Err, hello? How are you feeling?” Another moan came from the wounded girl. “That’s not a good sign. What’s your name?”

“Ionian” She gasped through the pain.

“As in the scale?”  A boy seemingly around seventeen crouched beside her. His deep warm brown eyes seem to look further than the blood and bruises on her face, down into whom she really is. A chilling breeze passed by tousling his black shaggy hair our from his deep chestnut brown face.  There was a deep concern and curiosity showing through his mask of uncertainty as he stared down at the blood matted girl. He almost looked as frightened as she felt.

Ionian stood up but felt a blinding pain across her lower stomach.  “Whoa there!” The boy caught her back that was spider webbed with old scars and leaned her back down onto the cool lament tiling and walls.  Ionian reached for a pitcher of water that the boy intently handed to her. She gave him a quizzed look and looked to be inspecting the pitcher, not trusting it. “It’s just water,” The boy said, “It won’t hurt you.” Ionian just looked at him suspiciously. She was looking at him while she took a small sip from the pitcher’s cool water.

“What is it with you and taking care of pathetic small beings?” The larger man croaked at the boy. “Haven’t you had enough work to do around here without that girl taking up your time?” The way he spit out the word “girl” made her cringe at the reminder of Master.  “Get her out of here. If anyone is to see a bloody girl in my kitchen they would either call the police of the health inspector.”

“You can’t just leave her out in the streets!” The Boy defended, “She would die! How would you like to explain to the police why there is a dead girl on your back step? Like that will go over easy,” The Boy sarcastically sneered.  

“Well you can’t leave her here! I don’t care what you do with her. Put her in the back room until your shift is over, after that I don’t want to see her or hear anything about her.” The man with the croaky voice went out of Ionian’s sight.

Looking down at her with his sad brown eyes, he lifted her from the cold floor and carried her toward a small door in the back of the kitchen. He pulled it open, revealing a small room holding a desk full of loose papers and a dinky wooden chair. The Boy let her down against the crimson walls. From there, he walked across the pine green carpet, giving her a last, sorrowful look before closing the door.

A few minutes of looking around at the bare walls and stained carpet, Ionian hears shouting and scuffling footsteps from outside. There is a loud crash as the door bursts open, only to let in Ionian’s worst nightmare. Master stridden toward Ionian while a blade gleamed in his hand. A set look was too his face, trying to repress the emotion of hate and sorrow from his never ending gaze.

“Why must you do this to me?” Ionian’s voice came out as a harsh whisper with all her pain and misery packed into those few words.

Master’s look still didn’t change as he crossed the room toward the crumpled up girl in the corner. “Because,” He whispered with the same amount of emotion, “I only do what I wish could happen to me.”

With that the knife sunk deep into Ionian’s chest as she let out a single yelp of agony. She lay there, clutching her wound as her vision slowly blurred with darkness. She heard shouting as if it came from a great distance. She looked up at deep brown eyes before her as they look over her and Master. His eyes flashed with unknown fury as he grabbed the knife from Master’s hand and stabbed it deep into his body.

So Master got what he wanted, Ionian dimly thought to herself, he always gets what he wants.

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