15
As the church door opens, the nun lifts her head in surprise to see a small, emaciated girl dragging her broken legs across the aisle, a bloody smear in her wake as she crawls. She gasps, pausing often as the rattle of chains deeply sunk into her ankles rattle loudly in the empty church. Finally she arrives at the altar, and the nun looks up into the glazed yellow eyes, the muddy, dirt-caked hair cut short around her shoulders.
"...M-Master said...it's good to go-go to church.." The girl's voice is small and pitiful as she trembles, the pathetic excuse for a shift on her body sliding off her shoulder, revealing ugly welts that are about to break the skin.
"They say churches...can help people.....can help people get...wh-what they..w-want.." The slave girl props herself up on flimsy white arms caked with dirt and purple-bruises the size of golf-balls. The nun smiles at her, and asks her a question.
"What is your reason to live?"
Hot tears fill the slave-girl's eyes, as she whispers four little words.
--
"That really is a lovely name." The nun remarks, as she gently picks up the girl, the long chains from her ankles sliding across the aisle as the girl raises a glowing red eye, a bird-sigil tightly placed in the muddy-yellow iris.
"T-thank you!" The girl whispers, life coming to the strange eyes.
"That's the first time anyone has said something like that to me." She says, her voice reverent and soft. The nun gently stares at the blood-smeared girl, her cracked lips forming a soft, glowing smile as the sigil in her right eye glows.
"Well, expect more from me, little one. I will be taking care of you from now on." The slave girl's eyes are glowing. "D-Do I have to do something for you mistress? I-I can count from 1 to 10..and I can read a little bit...I um...I can sew....I can even help remove dead bodies..." The nun smiles a bit crookedly. "Don't worry too much. You've already granted my wish...in time."
--
"Ah so this is your real hair color.." The nun muses, as she gently places the girl into the washtub. Blood and mounds of dirt go to the bottom of the tub, as she observes the skeletal slave-girl. Her ribs poke from the skin and a series of bruises and ugly welts dot her body. There are cuts on her ankles and as she gently massages them, she removes the chains, deep indentions of bloody proportions leaving a mark as she takes off the chains.
She marvels at the odd color of the girl's hair, a soft lime-green that could even be pretty if the girl fleshed out a little bit. She gently scrubs her back and as she does she hears the soft hiccuping sob of the girl.
"What's wrong? " She asks. The nun's face is so kind to the slave-girl, full of...full of..--
"N-No one has ever given me a bath before....t-thank you..-t-thank you.." She sobs, and her yellow eyes fill with tears.
--
...
....
...What a fool I was.