The Mask of Destruction
Insivian- One of the many countries reinvented in 2065 and run my robots. Considered perfect by the government. Loved my most...hated by some..
Selenia- A murderer, striving for redemption as the last of the humans. She's what one might call mentally derranged.
Kaaden- A Dawnbreaker, not human enough to feel pain or regret, not robot enough to be brainwashed. Hidden intentions lie beneath his stony exterior.
The Mask of Destruction awaits....
The Agony of Abandonment
"Selenia, do you read me?"
I said nothing. Was there anything worth saying?
"Selenia!" the persistently squeaky voice shouted.
"What?!" I screamed, leaping up off of the iron cast couch. There were lines on my arms, deep imprints of grapevines and spirals from the couch that I had been lying on. Sometimes, I think psychiatrists go out of their way to make you uncomfortable.
If my psychiatrist, the psychiatrist who didn't even deserve a name, had been anyone else, she would have started, jumping out of her dust blue pantsuit, but she had been dealing with me for 2 and a half weeks now, and she knew what I was like. She had already taken the knife out of my boot when I arrived, calmly confiscating it as if it were gum in a classroom.
"You know you shouldn't have this..problem."
"I know. I should have gotten over it. I should have never bought the knife. I should have calmly walked away from the situation once I saw it going downhill. I should have talked to someone about what happened. Enough with the 'shoulds'. What about the 'coulds'? I should have walked away, but could I have?"
"Do you know what year it is, Selenia?" the psychiatrist asked in an impeccably level voice. She hardly waited for an answer, "2134, Selenia. Things have changed! Do you remember what Insivian's motto for the year was?" Insivian, the country that everyone who was anyone lived in now, always had a yearly motto depending on the chancellor. Some were obscure and odd, others were questionable or unremarkable, and most had faded into a dust of empty promises and forgotten dreams. Last year's was "The Year of Salvation is Upon the Children of Sorrow". This year's was, "The End of The End."
"Death should be gone, Selenia. Gone. People like you don't help the Cause," she whispered into my ear. I settled back into my seat, allowing my face to appear comprehensive and understanding. She relaxed.
I pounced, "Don't call me by my name. The way you say it makes it sound like a curse. Like, "It's time to get your Selenia vaccinations, kids!" So stop saying it!" I seethed into her ear. A flicker of momentary shock had entered her eyes.
The guards, hearing my outburst, pulled me back with clammy hands. They feared me, more than anyone else at the ward because they had to work closely with me. They touched me with a fearful apprehension, as if the were afraid I would melt them into steaming puddles with the nectar of my skin. I had found their reaction much to my liking, but the psychiatrist's was not at all pleasant.
I expected the guards' reaction, but the psychiatrist's unnerved me. She shouldn't be acting like this. It was unnatural. She shouldn't be acting like this. Especially not around me. Or anyone like me.
Why? Because I was a murderer.
And a deranged one at that.