Friday, 23 September 2011
04:01:58 PM (GMT)
They kept her under the Castle That Never was.
She wasn't aloud into the daylight, out of the cell where she was kept.
It was for her own good, she'd been told so many times, that she was deadly to go
near others, that they could get infected.
Hell, she was made to wear a gas mask if told to speak to other members that were
allowed near her.
The man in the black cloak didn't even bother to give her a name, like she wasn't
worthy of one.
So one day, she looked around the room she had been given, the tools and such other
things and an idea came to the red head's mind.
She shaved the sides of her head, keeping her dreadlocks in a ponytail. She slipped
her piercings back into their slots and applied a hefty amount of black lip stick to
her mouth. She changed from a shirt and jeans into this overly-huge black cloak that
hung off her anorexic-looking frame and studied herself in the mirror for a few
A pale hand with the skin tightly bound over long, skinny fingers extended and
touched her hollowed cheeks. Something told her she had not always been this way,
with the bags and lines under her eyes, her body so skinny and sickly.
"Who am I?"
White eyes scrutinised every disgusting looking bit of her body with burning hatred,
a split snake tongue momentarily sticking out from her lips to taste the liquorice
flavoured lipstick. Her mind whirred at a mile an hour to figure out who, what she
A quick inhale signified a turn of events, shedding new light onto this as the girl
so rightly named herself.
"My name is Anthrax. I am the disease to which there is no cure,"
Last edited: 23 September 2011