Chapter Two - Prophetic Dreams
WARNING: This story contains material that might be triggering to some viewers! Adult content! Proceed with caution!
Chapter Two - Prophetic Dreams
Pruny fingers stiffened around the rusted metal chains of the swing. Her red coat was two sizes too big for her but times were rough and how could she ever dare to ask for something as unnecessary and expensive as clothes? She wore whatever was available in the local church's donation room and consumed anything her mother could scavenge around from her part time job at a convenience store. The families allowance was spent on colorful crates of alcohol and lottery tickets.
Her blood rushed to her cheeks, giving them an innocent hue. Her pout was upsetting, as if she had squeezed in too many marshmallows in to her mouth and was now unable to chew properly.
"Stupid… Stupid Kinon..." The words slipped between the braces on her teeth like a curse.
A ferocious battle cry came out of her body. Her sudden vocal outburst allowed her to muster up enough courage to leap off the swing, her legs kicking at the snow like she was some martial arts master that was fighting a two headed snake. Deciding to change her fighting style to boxing, the girl than turned to swinging her tight fists in the air in random directions.
"That stupid, annoying- stupid, ugly Kinon!!!"
Joan tripped over her own boots as she served the final blow to her imaginary opponent, surely winning that battle. The scent of damp leaves seemed to fume off the ground as she lay on the muddied snow. Her pants and huffs becoming quieter as she regained her composure- that is- as much of a composure as an eight year old child could have.
"I'm the prettiest boy you've ever seen!"
Her eyes immediately widened at that familiar vexing voice. The boy in question finally came into view as he landed on top of her, his plaid mittens planted on either side of her head.
His left eye was purple and bruised thanks to his hobby of picking on anyone who was older than him, which Joan liked to torment him with by telling him that a witch cursed him for being such a delinquent.
"Joan you're the stupid idiot! You ran off again! How am I supposed to play with you when you… when you…."
His eyes glossed over, thin pink lips trembling as droplets of tears stained her eyebrow and cheeks. Joan became upset at the state of the boy until she caught sight of a thin trail of goo oozing down his nose.
The little lady underneath him squealed in disgust and began thrashing underneath him, but alas, despite being the same age, he was blessed with a giant's genes. The frustration, the tears, her cold nose, his boogers- it all became too much and Joan began crying below him.
"I hate you Kinon! You're so stupid and annoying! You are the ugliest when you cry!"
In contradiction to her words of malice, the brunette wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer to her. The two children held each other tightly as their helpless sniffles and hiccups entertained the local park squirrels and pigeons.
Although Kinon was upset that Joan refused to play with him anymore because he teased her about her pigtails, he was incredibly glad that he had someone to protect. And despite Kinon being an ugly idiot, Joan was glad she could befriend someone who didn't think her oversized clothes and the bruises on her body were ugly or weird. Even when the entire world and its creations turned their backs on the two, they still had each other, and that was enough for them to continue on.
Kinon lifted his head up from her shoulders and began lightly brushing the snow and tears off her small face.
"Lets go, my mom made hot chocolate!"
His wide toothy grin was sweet as he helped to pull her up, making sure to hold her hand firmly between the fabric of his clothes- afraid that if he let go that she would run off again. Kinon did not mind looking for her, but sometimes he worried that she would slip past his fingertips and never return again.
.....
The icy water thrown at her caused goosebumps to litter her arms and legs. At first, her body switched to danger mode and shook in attempt to try and balance her body temperature back but after several wooden buckets, this became routine and she expected it to happen. Three days. It has been three days now.
She breathed in carefully before lifting her head up to meet the assaulters gaze, her hands tucked between the thin fabric of her dress to try and stop them from twitching.
"Good morning, swine." A hysterical laugh followed, as if the woman was entertained by her own comment. After the seagull shrieking ceased, calloused fingers carefully moved between the wet strands of her hair, tucking them behind pink ears.
"You're so pretty when you look at me like that... yes with those frightened eyes. Yet look..." The woman feigned innocence as she grabbed the girl's ridiculously thin wrists up to draw attention to her fingers.
"Why are you clenching your hands so tight? Perhaps you want to hit me? Well... What did I expect, you are the daughter of a woman like her..." Her thick red tongue clicked against the roof of her teeth, causing the blue veins underneath to be visible.
"You know child..." She sat up with a grunt as she made her way to an iron table in the center of the room. Joan only now realized just how difficult it was for this older lady to move around. Her body fell whenever she relied on her right foot to land, only to wobble up thanks to her left one. She looked like some sort of penguin shuffling around, and that thought amused her for a short second before her expression turned grim again. This woman should not be compared to anything so innocent.
"I loved your mother. She was a very stunning lady. Violet hair with a matching set of violet eyes. A tall frame, a regal composure. She was everything a duchess needed to be." The machine screeched as she twisted and turned small screws, as if she was adjusting a microscope for inspection. She held her tongue for a moment, wondering if she should continue.
"She was my best friend. We were inseparable, the two of us. Yet, I had no idea what her true colors were... That witch, your mother." The maid looked saddened for a moment as her shoulders slumped, as if she was holding onto unpleasant memories.
Joan's eyes were glued to the machine, her throat going dry as her thighs pressed tightly together. Again, it was going to happen again. Just how much longer must she endure this?
The shrieking voice interrupted her thoughts to taunt her, "Come here Emoria."
Emoria. Emoria. Emoria.
The name of this body, the child she was possessing. Emoria Vaughan. Heiress to the Vaughan family. Twin sister of Elain Vaughan. An irrelevant character in a novel she read in middle school. A character that was supposed to have died three days ago.
Joan's legs shook as she stood up, her hands skidding against the stone of the wall as she made her way closer to the device.
"Please... must we do this again...? Please I'll listen to you from now on- so please please-" Her voice felt foreign, it was gentle. Even as she begged, the words fell softly on both their ears.
The maid scowled in disgust and annoyance before she pulled the child quickly closer, shoving her left hand inside the iron fixture and tightening the leather strap around her wrist.
"Vaughan's do not beg, swine. You are so uneducated that it sickens me. How could a creature like you be the heiress when your sister is so much more capable than you? If only she had been born a few minutes earlier... if only..." The older lady sighed and began adjusting the sizing down to the length of her fingertips.
Joan began hysterically screaming, coughing and gagging around her own tongue as she tried to call out for help from anyone. Her right hand clawed at the leather strap as she whimpered.
No, she did not want to feel it again. It was so painful last time, so please please please- dear god please-. Joan caught herself begging for something out there to help her. Why was she here? Why was she taking the torture when the owner of this body should have been here? Joan bit her tongue in disgust at that thought, why did anyone have to live through this? Just what did this child do?
The clanking sound finalized her sentence as the machine fell down.
Not a sound came out her lungs as she held her mouth wide open, her rasping voice shaking as she fell to her knees, her left hand still secured tight into the machine. Joan looked down at her dress. It was stained and an unpleasant scent was coming off of her. She was embarrassed by the yellow liquid that dripped down her thighs as it mixed in with the red droplets dancing their way down her wrist. Her eyesight blurred, the noise of the iron unclamping, the leather strap loosening and her body falling down into the mess of her own bodily liquids seemed like a distant reality.
Joan refused to look at her hand as she laid there silent. The machine had now taken three of her fingernails, it was building up quite the collection. In the distance, she could hear the maid cursing and cleaning the blood and piss up, and from time to time kicking at her body in frustration.
'I don't want to die... I don't want to die...' Her lips shook as she curled up into a ball.
She didn't want to die? When has that ever been the case in her previous life? Back then, she was surprised to ever find herself enjoying life if he wasn't there next to her. To say Joan was cynical was an understatement. Seeing the world for what it truly was from a young age did that to individuals. She was not special by any means when it came to that. Sooner or later, all humans are faced with the grim reality of their own incompetence and the incompetence of their entire kind to be good.
Was it this child's inner emotions? Is this feeling... this desire to live and this fear of death?... Did Emoria not want to die?
Joan bit her lip as the maid slid out the door like a worm and bolted it shut.
There was no doubt about it, Joan had somehow- someway- by some strange and mystical reason- reincarnated into that book.
The Lotus Saves Villareal.
Reincarnated as Emoria Vaughan. In the original novel, they disguised the child's passing as an accident. She had apparently fell into the lake behind the family's summer manor. Could it have been... no way... right? Did Emoria really die the moment she woke up? When her father kicked her in the chest instead of drowning?
Joan's hand was throbbing and she could hear her heart beat pounding around the area where her nails were supposed to have been.
This poor child was abused like this, only to die a useless death so conveniently for the story to continue along. For her twin sister, Elain Vaughan to become heiress.
"Hah.." Joan chuckled and snuggled closer to her knees. "Me and you... we have lived the same misfortune. Your family too... Your fate too, we are nothing but inconveniences for something bigger than us."
Tears clogged up her eye ducts before she covered her face in frustration. "But how? How could they do this to you? How could they... Emoria."
Joan could feel the innermost thoughts of the body she possessed.
'Please... please I don't want to die... but I don't want to be here anymore... I miss mommy... Why did mommy leave? I want to be with mommy... It hurts so much, my hand hurts so much and I don't want to die.'
The weeping child tucked away in the corner of this torture room, attempting to peel off a nail that was still attached loosely to her flesh as she mumbled out gibberish.
Joan watched as the ghost girl turned her head up to meet her gaze. She was otherworldly. Celestial. Her beauty. Catlike amethyst eyes, slick black hair that fell elegantly down her shoulders. Red and bruised lips, a thin nose, rosy cheeks. She was truly stunning.
The ghost like thing stumbled closer to her before kneeling down. Her right hand gently reaching out to pet Joan's head in a loving and comforting manner.
"I am sorry... but I am going to go now, okay? Mommy is waiting for me and I miss her so so much..." The child smiled from relief at the words coming out from her own mouth as she bent down to lay a kiss on Joan's forehead.
"Please take care of this body for me... I really need to go now... Mommy is waiting for me. Please take care of that body, it belongs to you now." Emoria's ghost stood up and began walking off. Joan could not think properly as she watched a woman pick her up and kiss her. They looked so alike, their cold beauty.
The ghost tucked its face between the woman's purple hair and mouthed a sentence that made Joan gasp in shock.
"What?!"
A wet frozen blanket washed over her as she screamed and sat up from the prophetic dream. Her gaze immediately met the damned maids.
Author's Note:
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