The Girl with Broken Eyes

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For Icy, morning came early the next day, and as she walked down a sidewalk, tears frozen on her face, she thought of how her brother would've reacted to her mother's sudden death, and was glad - a sick, gut-wrenching, painful feeling - that he was in jail, for once. One upon a time, her brother had given her more support than could be imagined, but then something inside of him turned. Icy awoke one morning to her brother standing over her, knife in hand, and as she kicked him, he dropped it. The knife fell down from his hands, and for a few agonizing seconds, Icy thought it'd miss her. But it didn't. The girl lifted a frozen finger to touch the scar across her right eye absentmindedly, then, realizing what she was doing, quickly stuck it back into her pocket and kept walking. Her eyes bored into the ground as she walked, her black hair grazed her neck when gusts of wind blew past.
"Darling," an old woman said. She looked about seventy, and her bony hand rested on Icy's shoulder. The girl looked up, cold biting into her face. "Darling, the orphanage is that way." She talked slowly, as if Icy was stupid and couldn't understand her, and that made gave her an angry stab of bravery.
"I know," Icy snapped at her. "Thanks." She shook the hand off her shoulder, and pushed her way past the woman. The orphanage loomed above her, grim and huge, as if she was going into prison. Is this how Matthew felt? she wondered, then brushed those thoughts away easily. Taking a deep breath, Icy walked up the white marble steps and grimaced as she did so; they were too clean. Then she hurried to the door and, gathering up her courage, knocked sharply at the door. Minutes passed with no answer. She knocked again, to the same result. Icy sighed. There was a stack of bricks nearby, so she dragged them to the door and climbed up. Then she peered through the peephole.
A large, silver eye blinked back at her, and Icy screamed, falling backwards off the bricks and hitting her elbow on the marble. The door creaked open, and Icy sat up, rubbing her elbow. A short girl, maybe seven or eight, looked at her. She had brimming silver eyes, a charming little smile, and long, flowing, beautiful blond hair. That's what I could have looked like when I was seven. Happy. She knelt down on the ground and smiled to the little girl.
"Why, hello there. I'm Icy De'Nala." Icy held her hand out to shake, still smiling. The girl took hers and they shook, but Icy couldn't help but shiver at the clammy, unkind feeling of the girl's hand. Her smile faded, and the door was held open for Icy, who stepped into the warmth gratefully, a bit creeped out by this behavior.
"What's your name?" she asked, hoping to start a conversation. Icy turned a corner, following the child, and her backpack seemed to weigh a thousand pounds as she walked with only the sound of footsteps to comfort her.
The girl turned into a long hallway, and kept walking as she spoke, "Anne."
"Oh," I said. "Do you live here, Anne?" Icy studied the walls. Old photographs and paintings hung up, and quite a few were sideways. They were all dusty, though, Icy noticed, as if no one had cared enough to dust the house. The wallpaper was peeling, and the whole place gave off an eerie vibe.
"Yes, my mommy is in charge of the orphanage." Icy jumped; she wasn't prepared for so many words, and they were spoken with a sharp edge to them, as if it was not proper to say.
They stopped at a grand door and Anne said, "Goodbye and good luck." But she didn't sound like she meant it. Before Icy could say thank you, Anne was gone. The girl sighed, then rapped on the old wood.

(Still chapter one, I'm not done yet.)

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Sorry for boring you people, I'm not rushing into action or writing the whole thing all at once. I'm doing it until my mind and hands tell me to stop.

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A high, cold voice replied, "Come in, dearie, the door is unlocked." Icy bit her lip to stop it from trembling, took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob.
The room was nothing like what she had expected it to be. There were fiver different walls: one was lime green, one was light blue, one was red, another was made entirely out of windows, and the third was an orange. It struck her as odd, and all the bright colors and light from the windows caused her to blink her eyes from the pain. She sputtered as she stared at the lime green wall, where only small spaces showed. The rest was covered by posters of a girl, laughing. Anne. In one, she was playing piano, in another, she patted a puppy on the head. Icy shook her own head, then noticed the chandelier. The ceiling was extremely high up, and all the way up there, right in the middle, was a golden chandelier. The most beautiful diamonds hung from it, but Icy thought it odd that there was not a single light bulb or candle anywhere on it. She bit her lip again, then her mouth dropped open.
Facing the door, a colossal throne stood beside the windows. It reached to just below the ceiling, which was, I assure you, to large to describe. Even I was amazed at the sight of the room. I admit it, I rather liked to follow Icy. Anyway, on with the story. An approximately ten foot ladder was propped up against a chair leg, and it led up to the huge cushion. Icy looked up, up, up . . . and in the chair sat the smallest woman Icy had ever seen. She looked to be shorter than Icy, at about four foot five, and Icy was taller than that. The woman smiled.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she taunted. "Come on up!" Icy began to climb, eyes still wide as she took it all in. Surely, this room wasn't part of the dark, gloomy, unkempt orphanage?
"My name is Barbara," the woman said when Icy was sitting beside her. Then she looked at the girl oddly, and announced, as if she had read Icy's mind, "Yes, this room is part of that dark house." She smiled, and Icy recognized the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. "Wh - what? How did you -" Icy stammered, but Barbara interrupted her.
"Hush, child. Your room will be three doors down. Your uniform is on your bed. You are expected to comb your hair, brush your teeth, iron and wash your clothes every morning. You are to take a shower after every lesson, and if you forget to do your homework you will receive a cane beating and twice the work.
"We do not tolerate rude behavior here, and your room must look exactly the same when you leave as when you came in. Is it understood? And rule breaking, and you will get a caning." Then Barbara smiled pleasantly, as if she had just invited Icy over for tea. Icy nodded urgently, desperate to get away from the woman and her room. "Well, then, off with you!" Barbara gave her a sharp slap on the leg, and Icy hurried to climb down. She bustled out of the now-devilish room and into the hall thankfully, without even a goodbye.
I wanted to laugh, but the sound wouldn't come as I watched Icy walk miserably to her room.

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The next morning came early for Icy, and when she awoke, yawning an stretching, she was given an immediate refreshing of the day before. Icy sighed, then brushed her teeth and combed her hair nicely, not wanting to get into trouble. She pulled on the stiff uniform: a blue, black, and grey plaid skirt, knee-high socks, and a very hard - yes, hard - white shirt with buttond seeming to cover it entirely. A pair of black mens shoes stood by the door, and Icy grimaced as she put them on. After fifteen minutes of struggling, the girl looked horrible. Her hair was a mess all over again, her skirt was on backward, and about thirty of her buttons were undone.
"To hell with it!" Icy cursed, and fixed everything. By now, there should only be scraps left to eat. Icy stood up, finally ready, and opened the door a crack. She peered into the dark hallway and saw tons of people hurrying by. Yesterday, it was deserted. But probably because it was three o'clock in the morning. Icy sighed, then pushed her way past all the kids. She finally made it into the dining room, what a miracle, and sat down at the only unoccupied table. I sat beside her and stared hungrily at the food. You know, I hope, that I eat bodies when people die?

(Still chapter one; sorry, it sucks. Too tired to write.)

[Optimistic Kitten]

Love it!
*bookmarks*

And, it doesn't matter what chapter it is, as long as there's something to read! :3

[Soruc]

Love it~ Moooaaar.

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Thanks! More is coming soon, if not in a few seconds. XD

Optimistic - Yeah, I agree.

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Icy's eyes wandered to the fireplace, and the painting above it. Unlike the others, it was carefully dusted and straight as can be. A plate below, standing on the fireplace, read: DO NOT TOUCH PAINTING. Icy smirked; a room full of kids - someone would eventually act like a trickster. But no one stood, no one laughed, and most definitely, no one talked.
Feeling awkward, Icy hurried over to the group huddled around the food and found one that hadn't been trampled as badly. She walked back to her table and slid into her seat, blue eyes sad as she pried the bag open with her fingers. She peered inside.
There was an egg sandwich - great, she was allergic to eggs - orange juice in an oversized sippie cup, and one feeble piece of bacon. Icy ate her bacon, and threw the rest into the trash can, hungrier than ever now.
Icy was glowering at the painting for no reason, when suddenly a boy tapped on her shoulder. The girl whirled around eyes narrowed, but she relaxed when she say it was only a kid her age.
"Hey," the teenager said. "Mind if I sit by you?"
"Depends." Icy stood up casually.
"On what?"
"How old you are, what your name is, and more importantly, if you are willing to get away from me when I tell you to."
"Umm, sure."
"Is that an answer?" Icy sneered. She had never been good with people; not a social kind of person, but she wasn't mean.
"Yeah." He sat beside her holding his lunch in his hands. "I'm sixteen," he began. "And my name is Hayden. Hayden Levine."
I glared at him. He was my new enemy. That kid talked WAY too much. But, of course, my worst enemies were Noise and Sound, which were laughing at me from all over the place today. I wasn't really playing a big role.
Icy looked at him suspiciously, then softened. "So, err, Hayden, what'd you get in yours?"
Hayden grinned at her. "You wanted to know. . . . Chick sandwich, strip of pig, and orange blood." Then the two burst out laughing, and even I smiled.

(Almost done, the chapter. XD)

[friesiVF13]

I love it. The way you write captures me even if it is still chapter 1. I NEED MORE!!! Don't give me such drugs

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Hahaha, updates are coming! I try to write every day, but I don't see why it takes me s long to complete my chapter. XD