gilda mercury . d6 . wip

G I L D A

Blood, bright and sticky, coated her shaking fingers. "Shh, shhh, Clara, its all going to be o-okay." The body pressed against her own was frail, skin pale and scared, eyes sunken. Sad. "It's all going to be okay now." Her voice shook, her fingers gently pushing back her blade straw like hair. She remembers the first time she saw her, cheeks rose, eyes full of life that could not be thawed. A soul that could not be broken.

They had become close quick, their life so tightly knitted together in the hell hole that they called home. Clara had been an orphan, constantly referred to as subject 67 by Gilda's parents. Clara wasn't known at the time of the adoption the future they had planned for her. No one was to know, expect a few peacekeepers, hush money tossed in their direction to keep their mouths shut. A generous amount too. Enough to put to bay any humane thoughts that might cross their mind, too have their heads constantly turned away from the horrors that occurred in the depths of the Mercury household.

Subject 67 had been subjected to a variety of different venom testing. Injected with deadly toxins from mutts all over Panem her body was deteriorating, Gilda's parents search for antidotes and remedies not enough to save her life. Not that they cared all that much, they would find interest in her death. Study, and report every minor detail. They had long forgotten that their experiment was a human child.

Or to be more accurate they didn't care.

If they did, then maybe they wouldn't use herself and her twin sister as subjects as well.

"Its okay, Clara, its okay, it won't hurt anymore. N-never again," a tear rolled down her cheek, into the dying girls hair. She had fallen in love with Clara over the years. She had fallen in love with her laugh, with the way the stars seemed to dance in her eyes when she smile. With the way her little snores sounded like baby piglets tucked away beneath their mother teats.

"Gilly..." She never called her Gilda. A name that Gilda resented. It meant sacrifice. A fitting name for a child that would be offered to the miracles of science. "Thank you," lips, cracked and discoloured, pull back into a small smile.

Gilda's broken heart shatters.

The knife that had slide between her shoulders shudders, Clara's heart giving way. Eye lids drift shut as Death takes her hand, guiding her away from her living nightmare, away from the constant pain and suffering. "No," she whispers as slipping out from behind her still body, "thank you." Gently she presses her lips to hers for the last time, before their foreheads connect, Gilda's body shaking as sobs begin to rake through her.

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wip