Status: In progress
My Immortal
Chapter 1
Chapter 1.
“I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears...”
Honor wasn't sure if it had been the pain that had dragged her back to consciousness, or if she had merely awoken to have the pain consume her. Either way she was certain that she had never been in as much pain as she was in this moment and her brain was too unfocused and confused to narrow down a particular injury.
It was dark. Impossibly dark. The kind of dark that bore down on you and made you unsure of even the most basic truths; Her name was Honor. She was living in Boston. She had a mother and father who were worried about how thin she was becoming and why she hadn't found a nice young man to settle down with. These truths meant nothing in this kind of darkness, and may as well have been light years away for all the comfort they brought to her in the never ending darkness.
After sitting still for a moment, Honor attempted to push through the pain and focus on what she could determine; She was sitting in a chair. Her hands and feet were bound and she was barefoot. She was dressed, but not in anything substantial – she could feel a cool, faint breeze filtering through the material and causing her to shake – and she was dirty. She could feel her long hair sticking to the back of her neck and a thin sheen of sweat, long since cold from the cool air, clinging to her body. How long had she been here? Where was she?
There were no sounds around her. Nothing that offered a clue or something to cling to as she sat. The silence almost brought her to tears – more than the pain and more than the fear. It brought on the feeling of being completely alone, a feeling that she had been trying to grow accustomed to in the last year since... since he left.
She wanted to whimper, to cry out and scream, but the material that gagged her refused to allow anything other than her muffled sobs escape.
Eventually the sound of a door opening disturbed the silence and Honor was momentarily caught between relief and terror. It was a few moments before she felt a rough movement drag her chair forward, and a still rougher voice, heavily accented, hiss in her ear.
“You are going to tell us where your saints are my little il mio angelo custode”
Honor's sobs subsided immediately, and the fear that she had felt upon waking paled to a mild concern compared to the complete terror that suddenly washed over her when she heard the foreign language.
She had never learned to speak another language. She couldn't even curse in anything other than English, but Murphy MacManus had whispered those words to her so many times in their year together - a murmured term of endearment as he ghosted kisses over her skin in the darkness of their room. She would recognise it anywhere.
My little guardian angel. That's what Murphy had called her.
Honor began to shake as the severity of her situation began to sink in and those words echoed through her mind, stirring up memories she had desperately tried to leave behind.
She was never going to get out of this alive.
“I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears...”
Honor wasn't sure if it had been the pain that had dragged her back to consciousness, or if she had merely awoken to have the pain consume her. Either way she was certain that she had never been in as much pain as she was in this moment and her brain was too unfocused and confused to narrow down a particular injury.
It was dark. Impossibly dark. The kind of dark that bore down on you and made you unsure of even the most basic truths; Her name was Honor. She was living in Boston. She had a mother and father who were worried about how thin she was becoming and why she hadn't found a nice young man to settle down with. These truths meant nothing in this kind of darkness, and may as well have been light years away for all the comfort they brought to her in the never ending darkness.
After sitting still for a moment, Honor attempted to push through the pain and focus on what she could determine; She was sitting in a chair. Her hands and feet were bound and she was barefoot. She was dressed, but not in anything substantial – she could feel a cool, faint breeze filtering through the material and causing her to shake – and she was dirty. She could feel her long hair sticking to the back of her neck and a thin sheen of sweat, long since cold from the cool air, clinging to her body. How long had she been here? Where was she?
There were no sounds around her. Nothing that offered a clue or something to cling to as she sat. The silence almost brought her to tears – more than the pain and more than the fear. It brought on the feeling of being completely alone, a feeling that she had been trying to grow accustomed to in the last year since... since he left.
She wanted to whimper, to cry out and scream, but the material that gagged her refused to allow anything other than her muffled sobs escape.
Eventually the sound of a door opening disturbed the silence and Honor was momentarily caught between relief and terror. It was a few moments before she felt a rough movement drag her chair forward, and a still rougher voice, heavily accented, hiss in her ear.
“You are going to tell us where your saints are my little il mio angelo custode”
Honor's sobs subsided immediately, and the fear that she had felt upon waking paled to a mild concern compared to the complete terror that suddenly washed over her when she heard the foreign language.
She had never learned to speak another language. She couldn't even curse in anything other than English, but Murphy MacManus had whispered those words to her so many times in their year together - a murmured term of endearment as he ghosted kisses over her skin in the darkness of their room. She would recognise it anywhere.
My little guardian angel. That's what Murphy had called her.
Honor began to shake as the severity of her situation began to sink in and those words echoed through her mind, stirring up memories she had desperately tried to leave behind.
She was never going to get out of this alive.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hi everyone, just a quick note from me to you!I don't own any of the BDS characters. I could claim to own Honor... but that would imply more control than I think I actually have over this story. The song used is “my immortal” by Evanescence... more because a few of the lyrics speak to how Honor is feeling more than serving as a strict plot line.
Australian author here, so please excuse any spelling errors (yes we spell some things differently over here) and my Gawd awful attempts at writing this Irish accent. I know I'm going to suck at it... hopefully your wonderful imaginations will help me out and you will hear it perfectly in your minds.
Also please excuse the foreign language pieces... I am completely reliant on google for this... and fully aware that I may be well off the mark. Please feel free to (kindly) correct me if I'm way off base.
Reviews are loved, cherished and celebrated with happy dancing. I struggle with chaptered fics (please don't let that discourage you from reading) so your support is truly appreciated. This story just won't go away so I am going to do my best to get this finished and out there.
Finally, this story idea actually started as a tattoo design that popped into my head... and then developed from there. A little unconventional, but who am I to argue? I drew the tattoo (that will appear later in this story) first and you can find it on Tumblr, my user name is Kyahbell there as well.
Finally I apologise, I'm having serious problems with uploading, particularly this chapter. It continues to cut the last line of my chapter and my author note. I'm currently trying to fix it.