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Chapter 2 “You will do as you are told!” Katrina fought desperately to keep from screaming as those all too familiar words were thrown at her once again. A complete stranger this time was saying them as she dragged the girl down a long dark corridor. It was true that the hall was covered in bright colored tile mosaics that presented all types of scenes, but the lighting was so poor that that nearly all of it was shrouded in shadows. The woman, who held a very firm grip on Katrina’s upper arm, marched along the corridor as though she did not notice the dreariness of it or heard the echo of her hollow heels hitting the hard floor. Katrina cringed unwillingly as more unfamiliar, and unfriendly words stuck her. “There is no point in fighting me, young lady. You will remain here until those who know what is best for you decide it shall be otherwise.” Katrina hated being told that anyone, everyone, knew what was best for her. She realized that in the eyes of most she was still a child, but it made no sense to her that her thoughts on the matter meant absolutely nothing. Katrina knew better. Katrina knew far more than any of them realized, and knew very well that that very fact could get her in more trouble than simple disobedience. “This is your room,” the woman announced as a metal door slid away and they entered a small but well furnished room. “I frankly don’t care whether you like it or not, it is far better than you deserve I am sure.” “Actually,” Katrina said slowly as she took note of the heavy curtains on the medium sized window and the warm bed coverings draped at the foot of a soft mattress, “it looks very nice.” “Don’t look at me like that child,” the woman said gruffly as she turned from the child in disgust, “don’t ever look at me.” Katrina watched as the woman, Madame Zinkrey was her name, marched herself out of the room. She listened to the telltale sound of a lock clicking home and sighed. She had exchanged one prison for another, she thought, but at least this one had a window. And, she noted almost happily, she didn’t have to share her “private space” with twenty others. With a sigh Katrina sat on the edge of her new bed, feel the cushioning give way under her weight, and admitted to herself that even though she disliked many of her siblings there were those that she truly did miss and most likely always would. She had been given but seconds to decide to leave the compound forever and had not even needed all of that time, but she could not lie to herself completely. She would gladly share anything and even give up her window if she could just have her older sister Cassidy by her side again. Katrina looked around the room and took note of the ornately carved dresser and nightstand. She thought dully that she was most likely expected to unpack her things into the dresser and set up her personal belongings on the table, but she had none. All that she owned were the pants, shoes, and dress she currently wore, a small trinket carved by Cassidy, a polished stone she had found, and a holo-image of herself as a newborn, and she was unwilling to leave any of them where they might be stolen. So, with little else to do she went and stood by the window. The transparisteel window had been sealed shut, imaginably under the excuse that it was for her own safety, and glazed so that outside observers could not see in. What made this precaution ludicrous was the fact that Katrina’s window looked out over a cliff face so steep and high that no one could possibly stand below to look up at the window. A pink tinged sea foamed and beat itself against the rocks below, over and over again. It didn’t take Katrina long to grow bored with that pastime. She lay on the bed for a short while but images flashed before her each time she closed her eyes and she did not like what she saw. People, children and adults, scrambled to get clear of flames that ate up all in their paths. Toys, clothing, furniture, and so much more fueled the fury of the fire, feeding it, making it grow to only want more and more. Some escaped, many did not. Then the voices started, screaming with both fear and pain. Tears streaked down Katrina’s face as she sat up, rubbing her eyes with her sleeves. She was still trying to dry herself when she heard a timid knock on the door. Unsure of how to open it, and still believing it to be locked, she simply stared at the metal barrier. But, as it turned out, Katrina did not need to do anything to let her visitor in, she opened the door and stuck her head in. “Yup,” she drawled slowly as she looked at Katrina steadily, “you’re just like she said. Well, no use crying about being here,” the human girl, who appeared to be a few years older than Katrina, said as she stepped fully into the room. “I’m not,” Katrina answered honestly, though her face still shone slightly with the dampness of tears. “We don’t take well to liars, especially crybaby liars.” The girl narrowed her eyes at Katrina then tossed a small pile of fabric into her lap. “Put those on.” Katrina unfolded a set of one-size-fits-all pants and shirt to find a plain, black, leather mask lying on the soft cloth. The leather had been recently oiled and was soft and smooth to the touch. It was formed roughly to fit a human face though appeared to also be one-size-fits-all. “I don’t understand.” “Of course you don’t, you don’t have to look at you,” the girl said, speaking slowly as though Katrina was too stupid to understand the words. “Look, maybe no one bothered to tell you before but you are ugly. U-G-L-Y. And we really don’t want to have to look at you.” “Oh,” Katrina said, also speaking slowly. “I look like my father.” “You sure got screwed in that exchange of genes, didn’t you? Anyway, you’re not to come out of this room unless you wear it, Madame Zinkrey’s orders. This place may not be great, but it is better if you see more than one room of it. It’s your choice, of course, but meals aren’t served anywhere but in the mess hall and you’re bound to get hungry eventually.” |
