As The World Turns Cold

The Beginning of the End

The creak of the door never surprised Mercy anymore. Everything had been ripped out from under her years ago. Her parents, family, and even the elegance of the sun had been viciously dragged away from her in the blink of an eye.

She had been trapped in silence and a dark and dreary concrete cell for a period of time that even she could not tally up. Mercy would know. She'd been marking the days as often as she could, but when you're trapped in a cell with no way of knowing when dawn begins or dusk falls, it's not an easy feat to accomplish. Now after everything she had been through, there was nothing left to take away.

"Oh, Mercy, if only I had some for you!" Dr. Snyde guffawed maniacally and stepped in front of her.

This man was her one regular visitor; the one insane enough to try. He was always spouting off nonsense, poking fun at and mimicking her. She'd gotten used to the routine attacks and "helpful" medical treatments, but every day she still wished to pay him back for all the loss she'd suffered. One day she'd return it sevenfold.

Mercy looked straight ahead at the dark gray walls, not daring to let Dr. Snyde see what went on under the surface. Underneath, she was a raging fire and a sea of sorrow rolled into one. She'd had enough time to go insane herself.

The emotions never stopped their race through her mind. Her memories, as rare as they came, held emotions that only magnified the sorrow in her soul. And Dr. Snyde could never be privy to that knowledge. God knows what he would do if he found out.

He would always find a way to use it against her. Mercy would have to endure every torture until she was finally able to escape. Until that day, she would be brave and conceal every emotion within for if she didn't the world may truly crumble.

Dr. Snyde's eyes gleamed from behind his thick frames. He enjoyed torturing her. In his gloved hand lay a syringe that held within her reason for staying.

Mercy had been taken from her home on the eve of her eleventh birthday. Her parents had tried so hard to hide her away from the world of science, but when scientists don't get their way they take it by force. Mercy shuddered as the memories flooded her thoughts like a dam cracking under pressure.

                                                                                                   ~†~

"On the count of three, everyone!" Bernedette Baudelaire smiled at her daughter, Mercy, with an abundance of joy.

She glanced at her daughter and giggled upon seeing her long red tresses sprinkled with dabs of icing. The blue icing tented the strands purple where it stuck to her hair. Mrs. Baudelaire didn't say a word at her daughter's obvious attempt of getting into the cake and instead chose to gather everyone in the dining area to celebrate and sing.

"This only comes once a year, you know. You can go back to your ordinary everyday routine tomorrow, but today I get to spoil you. I want to make the most of this for you, Mercy."

Mrs. Baudelaire sighed dreamily before she spoke, "I always loved my own birthdays growing up."

She nudged her husband's shoulder playfully and swiped a frosting-painted finger across his cheek. Mr. Baudelaire caught her hand in his and kissed her hand lightly before letting go. Bernedette Baudelaire's gaze filled with love and amusement as she turned to set a paper party hat on the heads of each of her children.

Mercy wasn't too thrilled to have a cone-shaped hat on her head and she would much rather be curled outside with her newest children's book, but if she got to eat her mother's famous blue velvet cake then surely it was all worth it.

She looked at the scales running along the back of her wrist, watching dazed as the overhead light made them shimmer. The light twisting colors of red, orange, and gold burned vividly in her mind before she tugged at the long sleeves of her shirt to cover the flaky skin.

One scale a day doesn't keep the science away, but once she learned to conceal the scales within her delicate, human skin everything would be okay. Her mother and father would have no need for worrying and constantly running away.

Jacques Baudelaire sat to the side of his eldest daughter lighting one candle on the messy, brilliant blue birthday cake at a time.

He had forgotten to shave due to all of the excitement of the morning and when he turned his face Mercy could see a thin line of blue frosting in the stubble on his chin, providing color to his pale hair and even paler face. He had stolen a few bites of the fluffy topping out of the can when he suspected no one saw him. But Mercy was too much like her father not to have noticed.

Jacques looked up as he caught his daughter staring at him. "Just a second, little darlin', I've got nine more candles to light and then you can make that wish." He winked at her and ruffled her messy hair.

A loud wailing rang out from Mercy's left side. "Mama, play outside with dollies!"

Her little sister sat on a floral high chair with tears trekking paths across her chubby face. She reached out her toddler-sized hands to pick up the princess doll at her feet and the tiny paper hat fell from her little head in the process.

Little did they all know that a dropped party favor was the least of their problems.

                                                                                               ~†~

The memories brought up emotions she had believed dried up long ago, but she looked straight ahead, letting her lips rest in a firm, tight line as Dr. Snyde stepped into her line of vision. Mercy grew nervous with each passing second. The internal clock running softly in the back of her mind picked up its pace. It chimed loudly and all at once, as if it knew she was about to suffer.

Besides her mind's imagination of a ticking clock, the man's heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. As Dr. Snyde posed the needle above her arm, Mercy chuckled.

She grinned. That was something Dr. Snyde wasn't used to and his reaction would bring momentary pleasure to her distraught mind.

He flinched, the syringe dropping from his gnarly hands. A sharp clang reverberated off the walls as the vial fell to the concrete floor. Unfortunately, it didn't break.

Dr. Snyde stumbled back. "The ice queen has emotion after all this time. Interesting."

He was studying her. Her hands were the first to undergo his scrutiny. Inside, her nerves were writhing against their chains, threatening to break lose, but on the outside, she was nothing but stone-cold eyes and a mutinous smile.

Next, his eyes scanned over the contours of her face. Something must give sooner or later. He'd always say.

Her eyes bored into his, refusing to give in. With every second and every move of her joints, Dr. Snyde waited. He believed one day she would crack under the pressure of this twisted life.

She'd already been displaying the attitude of a monster, or so she'd been told, but Mercy didn't have the time to find out what made them think that. Like every day and night she'd been here, Mercy's mind was focused on going home.

Maybe she would crack, but today was not that day. Dr. Snyde bent down to pick up the syringe, his smile just as menacing as before.

"Now be a good girl and stay still. The pain won't linger for too long. A pity, really. I do enjoy having my fun."