Post by scarlet on Jan 26, 2010 16:56:28 GMT -5
Scarlet sat completely still on the edge of the ancient bench, staring at her hands. Blood-soaked hands... created to kill, taught to kill, and soon… to kill... Putting her elbows on her knees, she slumped forward, resting her head in her hands, reflecting on her life, as she often did. The bench, once painted a dark green color, groaned with protest at the sudden shift of weight. Much of the paint had peeled off. What little of it left was quickly being covered with black spots of rot. Scarlet felt the familiar sting in her eyes as tears began to well up.
She knew what was in her future. She didn’t look forward to it, and with and empty and hollow hope, she looked forward to the day when she fell in battle. Her parents, her fighting instructors, they were all beginning to pressure her to leave. They wanted her to go to back above ground and fight for the human race. Scarlet laughed, a strangled half-sob that barely escaped her lips. What was left of the human race to save anyways? They were already mostly dead, and the only humans she knew were weak, trembling things hiding underground to save themselves from extermination. None of them cared about her, none of them showed any sort of kindness to her.
Scarlet still remembered what her own mother’s very words were: “Scarlet, the purpose of your life is to grow up and fight for the human race. You are our daughter, and you will save the world.” The memory was a bitter one, and she slammed one fist down on the arm of the bench, causing it to explode into fragments of wood that flew in every direction like tiny darts. But what about me… The world has never shown me the slightest inkling of kindness! Why should I save the world?! Trembling with furious tears, Scarlet didn’t even notice the sharp pieces of wood that stabbed into the skin of her right fist and forearm. Neither did she notice the soft echoing of footsteps, coming her way.
She knew what was in her future. She didn’t look forward to it, and with and empty and hollow hope, she looked forward to the day when she fell in battle. Her parents, her fighting instructors, they were all beginning to pressure her to leave. They wanted her to go to back above ground and fight for the human race. Scarlet laughed, a strangled half-sob that barely escaped her lips. What was left of the human race to save anyways? They were already mostly dead, and the only humans she knew were weak, trembling things hiding underground to save themselves from extermination. None of them cared about her, none of them showed any sort of kindness to her.
Scarlet still remembered what her own mother’s very words were: “Scarlet, the purpose of your life is to grow up and fight for the human race. You are our daughter, and you will save the world.” The memory was a bitter one, and she slammed one fist down on the arm of the bench, causing it to explode into fragments of wood that flew in every direction like tiny darts. But what about me… The world has never shown me the slightest inkling of kindness! Why should I save the world?! Trembling with furious tears, Scarlet didn’t even notice the sharp pieces of wood that stabbed into the skin of her right fist and forearm. Neither did she notice the soft echoing of footsteps, coming her way.