Beautiful Crime

.𝟐𝟕 - 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄
⋆⋅✧⋅⋆
(visiting past relations)

𝐓he color white was one that Nyx had been forced to severely hate. Despite the brightness and warmth that appeared to radiate off the color, its soothing appearance did well to cover the harshness beneath. She knew the dangers of the light all too well. All the color ever did to her was bring back enormous terrors she had spent years building walls over. But even then the crumble in their foundation was inevitable. Not only was white the color of her brother's power and a constant reminder of what he had done to her, but it was also the color of the room she'd spent her youth imprisoned. She remembered it vividly, even if it had been a few years since being locked in it before her untimely death. The cold, empty, tiled room was one that haunted many of her dreams. A straightjacket was always wrapped around her and the lights so bright that not even an ounce of a shadow could break through. The room forced her mind into a spiral and even if she could break free from the confines around her, all she could ever do was sit on her knees and claw at the floor until her fingers bled and she screamed her throat raw. 

The Handler had always proclaimed how the room helped her. She was under the impression that the padded walls would somehow ease her mind to peace and better enforce the use of her power, but Nyx had learned her real intentions early on. It was a way to control her. The room sent her in such a spiral that she couldn't think logically, her heartbeat was too fast to focus, her panic heightened to the point where she feared for her life, and her power forced out of her. Control was never learned in that room. Nothing was ever learned in that room. It was all a ruse so that the Handler may remind her that she will never break free and that she will always have the upper hand on her. 

So now as Nyx sat in the bland white room of the mental institution Diego had been locked up in since his early arrival in the 1960s, she was helpless to push down the growing panic taking hold of her chest. The unease was beginning to spread to her mind, dulling her will of conscious and leaving the tapping of her foot against the floor unnoticed. Everything within the small room had been painted white; the walls, the flooring, the vents, the windowsills, and even the curtains. The only thing keeping her mind from completely shattering to pieces was the brown wood of the table and the tiny window that gave her a view of the hallway outside their room. 

She sat beside Five in a creaky wooden chair that faced opposite where Diego was meant to be joining them. In an attempt to regain full control over her mind and emotions, she forced herself to examine the picture of event number six once more. It was easier that way, for her mind to focus itself on a task rather than sulk in how bright the room was. 

The blood had long since been washed from her skin and her hair was now braided back into a halo that encompassed her head to cover where it still clung to her hair. The curtains of the window peeking outside had been drawn back, allowing the sun's rays to enter the room. Nyx had almost thought it to be funny when she felt the sting of one of them casting upon her hand. She imagined it to be the sun's way of antagonizing her for what she had stolen from it. No longer did it walk among the Earth, banished back to the on-looker. But Theo had his laugh now, reminding her that no matter what she did to be free of her past, it will always remain closely in her shadow.  However today she paid no mind to the stinging warmth of the ray. The sun wouldn't get such satisfaction from her. Not when she despised it as much as she did the color white.