Log; Ongoing

[alessalearnt.livejournal.com]

When; Friday, September 15th, 9 PM
Rating; PG-13/R for graphic story-telling.
Characters; Alessa alessalearnt, Henry wisdom_rcvr, & Rukia x_cryptic_x
Summary; Alessa tells Rukia and Henry her story.
Log;

Alessa sat in one of the pews of the chapel, the book of William Shakespeare's Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark propped open in one hand. She read the words carefully, taking in the strange vocabulary slowly. The words themselves were beautiful, an art that she had never noticed before. The written word was enchanting her slowly but surely, and she found herself wanting to read more and more.

Candles illuminated the chapel, the priest gone to bed quite some time ago. He had not disturbed the young woman as she sat and read, and Alessa felt at peace in the silence. The man's evening prayers were beautiful to her ears, but silence, sweet silence, was the best. She shifted in her seat slightly, and glanced at the figure of Christ on the cross - the Thorned King she called him - and wondered why he was always in so much pain and agony all the time. She wondered if she would ever meet him; she could tell him that she knew how he felt.

Straightening up in her seat, Alessa marked her page as she heard the doors to the chapel opened. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, preparing herself for reliving the nightmarish hell that had been her life for the past twenty years.

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[alessalearnt.livejournal.com]

'They said it was to restore innocence, purity. And my mother believed them. We followed the veiled elders up in the elevator to the third floor. No one spoke, and the silence was terrible. We walked to the end of a hallway, and stopped in front of the portrait of a witch burning at the stake. Foreboding....I never knew the meaning of the word till that moment.

'"You may leave now, Dahlia," Christabella told my mother crisply. "We fight the sin, not the sinner." Two men in the group grabbed my arms, and began dragging me towards the painting, which was removed to reveal a door. I screamed for my mother, but she could not do anything. They surrounded her, prevented her from stopping them. They dragged me into the room, but not before I could hear my mother say: "...What have I done...? Oh god..."'

Tears filled Alessa's eyes and she knew she could not stop them even if she wanted to. They fell down her cheeks silently, and yet her voice remained steady. 'I don't remember much after that. I know they must have torn my clothing off, and somehow managed to shackle me to a grill in the center of the room that was heated with hot coals, held up by iron chains. I was only twelve years old.

'Christabella's spoke of redemption, salvation...purification by fire. Her words meant nothing to me, but the pain...dear God, the pain...you have no idea what torture I went through in those moments, no idea! I screamed, screamed in agony, in so much pain I could not even pray to the gods I knew for it to stop! And yet, those people...the fathers and mothers of children sat there and did nothing! They watched an innocent child be burnt half to death and did nothing! They were so wrapped up in their own self-righteousness that they could not see the evil they were doing! They believed that by doing that to me that they were destroying evil!

'...But evil...evil comes in different forms. You must always be careful with how you fight evil. It is in the eye of the beholder, you see. Your weapons can turn on you. And I had just enough strength, just enough power to make that accursed chain break, swinging me across the room to crash against the grill holding the coals, knocking it over and starting the fire.

'They screamed. They ran. Some perished, but most did not, and when the flames died, I was one of the only ones that remained....alive. I thought I was going to die, and I welcomed death, but then...I saw my mother. She had brought policemen with her.

'...My mother is broken. She tried to get help but it was too late. The damage had been done. My mother's sobs echoed in the room; they were deafening. Not all of the people of Silent Hill were bad, though. Those good souls left the place for good after what had happened to me reached their ears. But this man...one of the policemen who had come with my mother, he did not hesitate to help me, even when he burnt his hands badly getting the shackles off of me, he helped me. He carried me out of the hotel himself, in his arms, as my mother was held back by his fellow officers.' She wiped her cheeks, sniffing slightly, slowly gaining control.