Angel Sanctuary Fan Fiction ❯ Broken Circle ❯ Broken Circle ( Chapter 1 )

Broken Circle

Warnings: Psychological trauma, gore, violence, murder, religious content, stalking, obsessed Archangels, sick twisted demons, bondage, molestation, sex, adult language, adult content, prostitution, and possible substance abuse

Author's Notes:

Lady Nightshade: We got the idea when we started talking about the two Archangels Michael and Raphael and their personalities it was then that I mentioned how funny it would be if Michael feel in love or lust with a girl that was completely unlike him. So this idea came into being and we thought it would be even more ironic if the girl was supposed to belong with someone else

Juniper Skull: And of course that led to Eve

Lady Nightshade: Exactly. Plus we wanted him to like someone submissive

Juniper Skull: And since the word subservient is right there under Eve's punishments- in addition to the love of twisted plot devices and irony, Broken Circle was born ^_^

Lady Nightshade: Yeap, and plus who else to choose for the enemy then Lilith

Juniper Skull: Role model to all dominatrixes everywhere...And other people too probably o.O

Lady Nightshade: lol, ain't that the truth, but enough of us and our ramblings on with the story. And reviews would be nice too *blows kiss* and flames will be used to make s'mores

Juniper: Time-wasted and possibly illiterate s'mores o_O

Disclaimer: We don't own Angel Sanctuary

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White, there is nothing but white in this room in a mental institution that resided far from the city in the mountains. The room wasn't very small but yet it wasn't very big either; there was one window in the room and one door. The bed with its crisp white sheets is the first thing you see when you walk into the room and it is under the window so that the sun and moon can shine through the white curtains if it can make it past the acres and acres of trees. On the wall the farthest away from the door there is a bookshelf that is also white and it is stacked with books by Shakespeare, John Milton, Charlotte Bronte, and by other English Writers and Poets. On the wall opposite the bed in the corner is a small white table on which her violin and music rests and beside that is a white desk with a few drawers, a lamp, and matching chair it is here that the occupant writer's letters to her family.

Family, what an interesting way to put it. The family of the girl that spends her nights and most of her days in this room isn't really her family. They might share her blood and DNA but they are not her family; but they never visit the girl that sleeps within these walls they just send letters. The letters they send are few and far between and getting even farther apart and those letters never have a return address on them. The reason, the ones that claim to be her family are ashamed about what has happened to their daughter' perhaps they can't stand the thought of having an imperfect daughter in their perfect world. The world outside is currently blanketed in a thick blanket of snow, white she seemed to be surrounded by it now within these walls.

Very few things provide color in this world of white snow and the woman, Murasaki Rai, her pictures, her dark brown violin, and her books are only a few of them. The woman that is laying in beneath the thin white sheets in a feeble attempt to keep the cold out has blonde hair and dark blue eyes; but her eyes are not open they are closed against the nervousness that seems to consume her and swallow her up. The books she reads come in a variety of colors: bright, dark, earthy, and cool tones but none are white. The white walls try to make themselves known against the multitude of pictures both drawn and cut out that she posted upon them in a feeble attempt to stay sane or in her case work back to it.

The pictures at first where graphic almost has if they were a way for her to tell her story. All of them the first month had been dark and showed pictures of a demon female murdering a male violently; but slowly they moved on to show a Red haired male with a tattoo on his body of a seiryuu on his chest while the head inched up his neck and onto his face; the male would either have Angel Wings or not depending on her mood.

The girl was not thinking about drawing another picture of the male but she wasn't even thinking about him, not really. She was however, thinking about her she got into the mess and of course the male with his dark red hair like blood and golden eyes like champagne or white wine was a part of it so her thoughts seemed to drift back to him. She didn't know if she should hate him or thank him though; he had in a way helped put her in here yet he had also saved her from death and the woman that had pushed her over the edge. Sighing, Rai gave into her memories and remembered how it all began.

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Silence, like the world had died around her. Like a single sound made within the winter air would upset something sacred. Like being inside of a church- a refuge made of virgin white delicacy and frozen into place; only disturbed by the trembling whimper of the breeze. Everything was calm, peaceful...And yet, revitalizing.

Her flushed cheeks prickled from the numbness as she smiled, exhaling deeply to watch her breath catch in the cold air; then picked up her hurry, almost skipping her way home. This was before it all fell apart, when everything treated like a poisonous taboo now was back then only legends, child's play or even altogether nameless.

Ignorance is supposedly bliss, and when that bliss was raped from her, on that quiet December evening, even then did the innocence seem like some long-nostalgic memory, never to be dreamed again.

Each step up to her front door cracked painfully against her frozen feet. Rai bit her lip and took one more hop up onto her tiptoes to fish out the house key from its hiding place and jammed it into the lock, wriggling it around before the door finally opened. The blonde dove into her house and shut the door behind her to shut out the cold, hastily throwing off her book bag, jacket and shoes on the genkan floor to finally run into the kitchen; in her beeline to the stove and tea kettle, did not see the box sitting on the counter.

The water was set to boil; Rai turned around, her cerulean eyes catching on the strange package, waiting there as if it were for her. But when her curiosity pushed her towards it, leaning forward to read the writing, it <i>was</i> for her; her name written in what looked like smudged red ink. She ran her fingers over the masking tape meditatively, and then went into the drawer for a knife.

The blade went through the packing tape easily, splitting the cardboard into two halves, which she opened up like wings to get inside the package. It was a quilt; the pastel blue cloth stitched with lace and stitched floral patterns in bottle green thread. Her eyes lit up as she touched the fabric; pressing her hands into the feathery softness; then yanked it out of the box- her mind barely given time to register the other item until it fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

It was a quilt

With a severed head inside.

Rai screamed as her knees gave way and sent her crashing to the floor, throwing the quilt off of her as she scrambled to the other side of the kitchen; her eyes never leaving the repulsive gift now gaping at her with eyes blind to the mortal world. Her stomach churned aggressively, threatening to heave up her lunch, but she was rooted to the spot; unable to turn away from the detached head, as if those eyes had her in a trance. The corpse's jaw was dislocated; wasted life-liquid oozing from the open mouth and tainting blanched lifeless skin. Thin fissures were also torn underneath her eyelids, like the stains of bloody tears. Artwork painted by a murderer with no sense of mercy, that was made clear by the jagged intentional imperfection of the final cut; what separated this head from its innocent shoulders. Where the body went, Rai didn't know and didn't want to find out. The curse was broken and she was allowed to shut her eyes, a single word trembling feebly from her li! ps.

"Nana…?"

She shuddered and tried desperately to breathe but her breath only came out in short gasps. She whimpered and then the tears finally came and she opened her mouth letting a long wail that seemed neither human nor animal in sound. The wail rose up and down in pitch and the tears trailed down her cheeks. Finally her wailing stopped and she curled into a small ball her delicate body shuddering from fear and disgust. She buried her head into her knees and sobbed pitifully.

It was only when her sobbing stopped due to the fact that her voice was hoarse and no sound willed itself to leave her throat she glanced up again, hoping, wishing that the disgusting sight would no longer be there; but it was still there and she tried to get to her feet but her legs were weak and refused to function properly. The result was that she collapsed onto the floor in a heap her upper body on the quilt and her face nearly brushing against the head. She dug her fingers into the quilt and pushed herself away sharply bring the quilt with her has she landed on her back. She winced, seating back up and then she noticed the note tucked between the folds of the quilt.

She reached for the note with a shaking hand and slowly opened it almost fearing that there would be some other body part in the envelope. But there was nothing else in the envelope except for a pure white piece of paper. She opened it slowly her hands shaking and stared mindlessly at the words written in red ink that smelled somewhat like dried blood. Because of her shaking hands she couldn't concentrate on the words and so she placed the letter on the ground between her legs and red it from there.

My dearest Rai,

This is a gift of love from one whose love for you is like an endless circle never fading or growing old. Like King Herod Antipas's gift to Salome of John the Baptist's head on a silver platter. I give you, my one and only love, a gift of a head of one that loved you; to show that only I am allowed to love you.

Rai stared down at the note and scampered to the corded phone that was on the wall and with a yank on the cord brought the phone to her. She quickly punched in the number for the police and waited for someone, anyone to pick up

"Hello?" Came a voice from the other line.

"Hello," stammered Rai. "I got a package in the mail."

"I think you have the wrong number, ma'am," said the confused voice.

"No, you don't understand," said Rai, boarding on the brink of hysteria. "There was a he, a head in the package! A human head and a note! The note was in blood!"

"We will send someone right over," said the man quickly and in a reassuring voice. "Don't worry someone will be there in a few minutes."

"Okay," whispered Rai.

The policeman hung up his phone as Rai sunk to the floor, staring into space, as if an answer would appear in the darkening sky. The droning dial tone seemed so distant to her, as did the wailing shriek of the tea kettle, steam bursting from its neck. Her chin dipped down to rest on her chest, watching the tears fall into her lap; disappearing into the fabric of her skirt with only a mark to be remembered by. Her stomach finally gave way, giving her only so much time to sprint to the bathroom and make it to the toilet before what little food she had consumed that day spilled out with her disgust and horror. The blonde fell backwards again, wiping her mouth and wincing from the rancid taste leftover in her mouth.

I give you, my one and only love, a gift of a head of one that loved you; to show that only I am allowed to love you…

Rai shuddered, curling up again into a pathetic ball.

Dear God…What else was going to happen?