Post by Dawn Summers on Sept 8, 2010 19:47:16 GMT -5
A small seven-year-old girl suddenly collapses. Her mouth opens in a scream, though she does not wake. The paramedics are there almost instantly. They manage to restrain the girl, somehow pulling her into a straitjacket. They strap her to a table in the hospital.
She continues to fight, to scream, to cry. Her eyes roll back into her head, the irises facing completely backwards. A man in white stabs a needle into her arm, and everything goes black.
It is two years later, two years full of treatments for various mental diseases, all of which this now nine-year-old had the misfortune to stumble across. The girl is in a padded cell-like room. Through a padded door steps a white-clad doctor. He reaches out, but she she jerks back. Every one of her instincts tell her to run. That's nearly impossible tied to a wall.
Music plays in the girl's head, a lyrical pan-flute piece. Never before had she heard this tune, or even heard of the pan-flute. The music calms her though, as her father had intended it to. The God Apollo. The girl does not know this yet. She believes her father abandoned her and her mother years ago.
The doctor's cold hand reaches the buckle on the straitjacket, and releases the girl.
"Dawn." he coos, voice as sleek and slippery as an eel. "You mom is waiting outside to see you."
Dawn's wary gaze flicks to the door, to the face of this man, this stranger invading her bubble or privacy, and back to the door again.
"Come, now." the snake whispers. "Come see your mom. She has a present," He says this word with distaste, curling his lip. "for you."
He reaches out for her hand, but she is already halfway across the room. She tugs open the padded door, and flings herself into the welcoming grip of Joyce Summers.
"Oh, Dawnie baby. I've missed you so much." It had been too long, far too long. Two years, in fact. The snake still kneeling in Dawn's cell had kept them apart, saying that 'A visit might bring up bad memories, and that would ruin all they had worked for.'. But how could a mother bring up the bad?
A large dog sits panting on a bench. Two orderlies hold a leash connected to the black leather collar on the dog's neck.
"I brought you a friend." says her mother, noticing the girl's wandering gaze. "Your father sent him. Wasn't that nice?" Stooping down, she whispers. "Apollo. Your father is Apollo. He told me to tell you."
She nods solemnly, then darts to the dog. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, and it slurps up Dawn's cheek. She laughs. "Shade." she says, not caring who hears. "His name is Shade."
She collapses, and the doctors tug her back into the cell.
* * * * *
The next year, after months of physical therapy, acupuncture, and the like, they release Dawn to the world. The dog, Shade, stays with her.
The ten-year-old girl had lost her sister in that place. Luna had been brought in a month or two after Dawn. She was still there.
She goes back to school. To sports. To her friends. But nothing is ever the same.
She continues to fight, to scream, to cry. Her eyes roll back into her head, the irises facing completely backwards. A man in white stabs a needle into her arm, and everything goes black.
It is two years later, two years full of treatments for various mental diseases, all of which this now nine-year-old had the misfortune to stumble across. The girl is in a padded cell-like room. Through a padded door steps a white-clad doctor. He reaches out, but she she jerks back. Every one of her instincts tell her to run. That's nearly impossible tied to a wall.
Music plays in the girl's head, a lyrical pan-flute piece. Never before had she heard this tune, or even heard of the pan-flute. The music calms her though, as her father had intended it to. The God Apollo. The girl does not know this yet. She believes her father abandoned her and her mother years ago.
The doctor's cold hand reaches the buckle on the straitjacket, and releases the girl.
"Dawn." he coos, voice as sleek and slippery as an eel. "You mom is waiting outside to see you."
Dawn's wary gaze flicks to the door, to the face of this man, this stranger invading her bubble or privacy, and back to the door again.
"Come, now." the snake whispers. "Come see your mom. She has a present," He says this word with distaste, curling his lip. "for you."
He reaches out for her hand, but she is already halfway across the room. She tugs open the padded door, and flings herself into the welcoming grip of Joyce Summers.
"Oh, Dawnie baby. I've missed you so much." It had been too long, far too long. Two years, in fact. The snake still kneeling in Dawn's cell had kept them apart, saying that 'A visit might bring up bad memories, and that would ruin all they had worked for.'. But how could a mother bring up the bad?
A large dog sits panting on a bench. Two orderlies hold a leash connected to the black leather collar on the dog's neck.
"I brought you a friend." says her mother, noticing the girl's wandering gaze. "Your father sent him. Wasn't that nice?" Stooping down, she whispers. "Apollo. Your father is Apollo. He told me to tell you."
She nods solemnly, then darts to the dog. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, and it slurps up Dawn's cheek. She laughs. "Shade." she says, not caring who hears. "His name is Shade."
She collapses, and the doctors tug her back into the cell.
* * * * *
The next year, after months of physical therapy, acupuncture, and the like, they release Dawn to the world. The dog, Shade, stays with her.
The ten-year-old girl had lost her sister in that place. Luna had been brought in a month or two after Dawn. She was still there.
She goes back to school. To sports. To her friends. But nothing is ever the same.
