• Aniva sat drowsily on top of her cot, one leg tucked under the other as she stared out into nothing in particular. There was nothing to do in the miniature prison cell she knew since birth, especially since her mother’s passing one year previously. Three of the four walls were nothing but cold cobblestone, while the forth was a set of steel bars. The floor and ceiling were much like the cobblestone walls.
    But she could’ve counted her blessings; there were two cots, both layered with a thin blanket for those who slept on them. Currently, hers was sullenly matted, for she had felt the need to move once in the while. The other had barely been touched, Aniva had been afraid to approach it since her company was lost.
    Despite those improvements, Aniva often found herself bored now a days. Her mother had been the highlight of her life. She was the one who played with her, the one who taught her how to speak. And yet, the last parting memory of her was her being pulled through the hallway that joined all the prison cells, on a stretcher. She had died, and the wound had stabbed her through the heart.
    No one ever told her how her mother died; but during those days of grieving, she had been pulled aside for what she learned to be an examination. Every prisoner had been checked up on at least once a month, not that Aniva was able to pay any attention to the time.
    The kindest of the doctors never stayed longer than the day they met a prisoner. Interaction with anyone other than who was in your cell was prohibited; bonding was a nuisance and she felt alone from time to time.
    During her appointment, the doctors did indeed check on her condition; tossing words around, one concerning the drop in Aniva’s diet. But it was never something she even considered to care for.
    She expected to be led back to her cell like always; but that didn’t happen. Instead, the half-breed she had always seen stop by at other cells, picking and choosing the next victim that’d never return, approached her that evening. Gifted with the traits of silver scaly skin, magnificently massive wings and mercilessly spiteful eyes; Aniva came to know this man as Master Cerium.
    One other difference told Aniva this was no ordinary examination: she had been strapped down to the examination table with no means of being able to move.
    It began with a p***k as Aniva recalled; Master Cerium had pulled out a needle, grabbed her arm and injected it into the crook of her arm. A second or two passed as the liquid seeped into the vein, the needle was pulled out and Master Cerium walked away.
    Aniva remained still after this; facing the fluorescent lights above, she hardly noticed when a doctor returned to wrap the injected arm with a strip of gauze. Her attention remained with the beating of her heart; it had spread everywhere within her body, the throbbing beat that tracked her arms and legs, stomach and head.
    It had become more intense as time passed on; she remembered hearing nothing but the pulse, the rhythm that thumped throughout her ears. The very discomfort that threw her into spiraling heat flashes, the very pulse she felt responsible for the erupting spasms.
    No one helped her; she lay there squirming with the futile effort to break free from the agony. Then, it had finally ended; and her consciousness faded to the darkness of her mind where she scrambled about in panic.
    There in her mind, she could feel the fear that she must’ve felt. She had felt alone, longing for her mother’s comfort when the torment happened. But she knew it wouldn’t happen, Aniva knew her mother wouldn’t come back and she grieved onward.
    The memories flashed on, memories that portrayed her mother’s loving ways. She cried within her dream; remembering when she use to play with her, remembering when she taught her to talk, taught her to walk. Such precious memories, she wanted the pain to stop.
    And it did as she recalled; for no longer than a minute after these memorial scenes flashed before her, they changed. These moments, they were not familiar to her; she found herself in different places, places she had never even seen, people who she hadn’t met.
    But then, she saw herself. It was when she was happy, giggling and playing around, she heard herself say “Mommy, watch this!” and would twirl around on top of the cot until she fell into her mothers arms. She heard her mother laugh, but couldn’t see her.
    Mesmerized by these different scenes, Aniva had remembered when she met someone new through those dreams. He had approached her from behind and gave her what she longed for. This man, he comforted her.
    “Aniva, if you’re tired, you should rest,” Max suggested, popping her out of the painful flashback and into the reality of her dull gloomy cell. With a stretch, Aniva released a silent yawn. Max was no one she could touch; she could not see him before her, nor anywhere else in reality for that matter. However, she did see him in her mind. From the day she met him in that dream, he had been her company.