Assassin's Creed X Reader One-shots

Angels do Exist (Arno x Blind Reader)

Hello, my lovelies~ I'm back with a brand new chapter~! I'm working my way through your requests - at an agonizingly slow pace, I know! - and I hope you enjoy this one.

This was requested by @dxstyshclf

I hope this lives up to your expectations. This was does contain angst, and there may be some content at the beginning which could possibly be upsetting to some readers, so if you're not a fan of angst, please skip!

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A scream – desperate, enraged, agonized…human. It was far away, yet close at the same time; from the next ward over, no doubt. It was enough to condemn other patients into hysteria – depriving them of their rare moment of lucidity. No one cared enough to stop them. Not the nurses, and certainly not the doctors. To them, such noise was simply an act madness. And when you're mad, you cease to exist. They were to deaf to the underlying desperation of poor souls cursed by unknowable variations of sickness plaguing their minds. 
 
Lynette wails the loudest – not because she shares the same room, but because her pain ran deeper than most. It's due to the voices. They tell her to do things. Awful things. She compiles without a second thought; it's easier to obey than resist, she tells you.

Funny when the doctors, had locked her in a cell
Miss Lucy screamed all night that they should go to bloody…
Hello to the surgeon, with scalpel old and blunt
He'll tie you to the table and then he'll mutilate your…

Blind from birth, life consisted of relying on the other senses your body possessed. There used to be a time when sitting by the window of your husbands château offered a sense of comfort; the early song of waking birds, the rattling of carriage wheels clambering across cobblestone streets, the melancholic tales told by the piano in the sitting room. But that was years ago. Now you are forced to listen to the incomprehensible cries of the asylum patients.

If one was not mad when being committed, then they shall most assuredly become mad during their imprisonment.

Come, it's nearly tea time
The lunatics arrive
The keepers bleed them all until there's no one left a…
Lively little rodent are eaten up by cats
We're subject to experiment like laboratory…

The metallic tang of blood assaults your nostrils. There was no doubt it was Lynette’s. You've come to distinguish the repugnant odors of all which surround; the musty scent of mold seeping through the walls, the nose-crinkling stench of piss and shit left to pile high in the corner of every cell, the bitterness of coffee as the nurses make their rounds. Each day was more overwhelming than the last.

It was…maddening.

Rats, I've dropped a tea cup
How easily they break
I'm on my hands and knees until I pay for my mis-
Take off all your clothing
We've only just begun

Warmth trickles down your thighs – a humiliatingly pleasurable contrast to the permanent chill of the earthen floor. You have wet yourself…again; an act of degradation in the beginning, but over time became a normal occurrence. It does little to disturb your absentminded singing, but it is near impossible to ignore the irritation it causes to the fresh cuts defiling the skin between your legs.

We have no anesthesia
It's eighty forty
One thing we should tell you
Before you try again
The tests are all invented by a lot of filthy…

Footsteps. Heavy and expeditious. They round the corner. It's one of the nurses – a male one. The cologne he's drenched himself in is putrid; it wafts into the cell from under the door. Fear envelops you. It was him; he never once spoke his own name for he insists you refer to him as papa. If he's here, then that must mean…oh no. No, no, no. You can't endure any more torture. Not today.