A Stolen Begining
Shackles, clanking shackles. Even in the silence, she felt as though they were there; wrapped around her wrists and ankles, binding her to a task she had no will to complete. Her instructions had been clear, her pleas for help and mercy had gone unheard and now she sat in a room as unfamiliar as it was discomforting. So, with her head in her hands, she sat on a small hospital style bed and thought of the shackles, their steely sound ringing in her ears and disrupting the silence of the room. Her wrists felt tight, her ankles felt bogged down with weight and she didn't want to move, she didn't want to do anything.
Sitting back slightly, Rhona peered down at her hands as she pulled them from her face; there was nothing there. She had no shackles, no chains, it was all in her mind. Still, she felt heavy, she felt weighed down and she felt as though her life had come to an end. Standing and walking to the window, she could feel the responsibility of her new task dragging behind her – a constant reminder that her that she was no longer free. Before, she was an outcast and now... now she was too deep to see the light anymore. Rhona had been plunged into the darkness of a world she did not understand, a world that she was frightened of and one that she knew had not escape.
She was caged. Like an animal, like a wild tiger; she had the love of the wild in her still, the desire of it and the need to be out and roaming free. Rhona was filled with rage, defeat, and disgust; she didn't even know what was happening anymore. All she wanted to do was scream, cry, throw herself against something or anything and try to break free. All she wanted was to go back to her live of obscurity; truthfully, Rhona would rather be hated and dismissed at her home than bound and gagged, lead away into the unknown with only the knowledge that she either comply... or die.
There was a knock on the door, almost as if it was merely a warning and not an askance, a figure walked through the entrance and stood before Rhona; his demeanor stoic, his body taught and straight. Turning her attention to him, Rhona remained silent, for a moment she mused on him, thinking him a tin soldier – this emotionless man of solidarity. He was here to demand of her, that was all, he was here to convey the decisions of his master (a man she refused to accept as her own). “Your... partner... will be arriving shortly. I was instructed to bring you to the entrance hall in order to meet him. Come with me, Miss Allen.” Rhona swallowed her retort and complied; walking down the long hallway to the large opening of what had to be the entrance hall mentioned earlier. She hated this, it was a world she did not know, an experience she didn't want to have as a part of her life and now she was neck deep in threats and demands; Rhona was not one to be easily swayed, she was not one to bend until broken but, right now at least, she didn't have a choice.
“Remain here, they will be watching. Noah will arrive any moment.” With that, the little tin soldier marched his way back into the shadows and Rhona turned her attention toward the light once more. It was difficult to embrace the warmth of the sun when she knew it was something of a facade, a fake brilliance in the sky. She wasn't being let go, she was being released on a leash. Rhona had a job to do and she suspected this mysterious Noah wouldn't let her forget it.