The Patchwork Daughter

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Chapter Three - Cold Fire - Fiona

I can't sleep. They can't seriously expect me to be able to sleep in a desolate, unfamiliar, falling down, maze of a mansion, that has been infested with rats for centuries. This place houses an unbelievably old robot who is now wearing my best friend's skin. That is the only reason I am here. I have got to get rid of this freak before it destroys some other poor young woman's grave. It must be defeated. Maybe even killed, if that is possible. Maybe it has an off switch... Well I can't just walk up to it and be like: 'Hey Lydia! I wanna turn you off! Do you have an off switch? Where is it? Byeee!' I sigh. The walls are closing in on me and the cracks in the ceiling are trying to trap me inside. I curl up under the blankets and wish the night away. When I open my eyes again the sun is rising in the sky and I can hear the birds singing in the trees outside. I get up and smooth the wrinkles out of my jeans and hoodie. I open the door to the corridor and find our friendly cyborg chatting to what first appeared to me to be a person of unknown identity with light brown hair falling in front of his eyes. When he turns to look at me, however, I can tell that it's just David. I still don't know him well enough to recognize him straight away when I am still half asleep. It's smiling. So is he. There is an overly fluffy grey cat rubbing it's self against David's legs. I presume that it is Turner's beloved cat, James. I resist the urge to kick it. David smiles at me and suggests we wake the others up. The cyborg has food for us. I have sandwiches with me, so I turn it down. Anyway, they're crazy if they think I'm going to eat anything that thing has found for us.


It is really unsettling. It looks enough like Diana to seem human, but it isn't human enough to register as 'safe' in my brain. I just can't trust it. Even though it looks like my best friend, I cannot trust it. There is something very abnormal about its appearance and way of speaking, walking, moving in general, plus the fact that the hair isn’t Diana’s. But I think the most disturbing thing about it is the strange uncertainness that enters a room with it. It feels like it is constantly being followed around by a sense of danger and ever present death. It is a constant reminder that all good things must come to an end and that the best thing in my life did come to an end. Diana is gone. Dead and disturbed. Destroyed and disrespected. Parts of her have been reused, while other parts have been abandoned and disposed of, like rubbish or old clothes. A toy that the cyborg thing before me grew bored of. I hate it. I have never hated something as much as I hate Lydia Turner, or what is left of her. This being on the other side of the dining table is not human. It is something less. Something worse. It does not deserve life as we do. It does nothing for the world and the people and it should be destroyed, just as it has destroyed. It should be tortured with the screams of the families who lost their children and sisters and mothers and wives to it. It should be made to feel our pain. It should be demolished and discarded as soon as possible and as slowly as possible. I want to hear it beg for mercy before its end. It is more than it deserves.


Ben is watching me again. I think he knows I still want to go through with the plan. He changed his mind at the last minute. He wants to spare the demon robot we are eating with. He wants it to live. He thinks it is deserving of life. God, I hate him. He betrayed me. He will diminish with the villain he now wants to save. I have no other choice but to rid the world of this pest and its followers. Lydia Turner must die and it will take its 'friends' with it to hell. I glare at Ben. He sighs and looks at his plate. He finished eating a few minutes ago. I finished my sandwiches before we arrived at the dining hall. I think Turner was offended somewhat by my lack of patience concerning food. It came from a time when everyone ate at the table. Everything was formal and polite and there was no freedom to eat whenever or wherever you wanted. It frowned but didn't complain. It wouldn't have been allowed to complain about anything when it was human. Back before technology. Before this horror began. I wish she had never been made. I wish her precious daddy had just let her die, instead of making some unholy robot to replace and replicate her. Now there is nothing left but a manifestation of the devil himself. Lydia Turner changed from flesh to cogs. From heaven to hell. She is undead, unreal, unfeeling, unkind, unholy and undeserving. She is unclean and unwanted. She would be better off dead. It's a mercy killing, really. I am doing her a favour. The world will thank me in the end, when it is gone. We will be happier without this monster. This degenerate. This abomination.


Ben says I'm vicious. Like fire, but with an unsettling coldness towards the world. Like cold fire, he says. Unnecessarily so. But I think that this is very necessary. I think it is imperative. Required. I have made up my mind. I am decided. There is nothing Ben, or anyone can do to change my mind. I will not be overpowered. I will succeed or I, too, will deserve the inevitable death and pain of a sinner. I will succeed or I will burn in hell, for if I cannot be strong enough to fulfil God's will, then I deserve nothing less than the blasphemous atheists and devil worshipers.


I hear my name and look up. Everyone is looking at me curiously.

"What?" I ask. Turner gasps and I remember how offensive that used to be. I suppress a grin.

"I asked what you were thinking about." David informs me. I scowl.

"None of your business." I tell him.

"Well there's no need to be rude about it." Jacob mumbles and I shoot him my most evil death glare. He sinks down in his chair and stares at his empty plate.

"What did you get them to eat?" I ask Turner as politely as I can manage.

"Chips." She tells me simply. I scowl again. I like chips. She looks confusedly at David. He shrugs. I wonder what they could mean by it. David and Turner start talking again. Just the two of them. Jacob, Ben and Theo start a conversation away from the rest of the room and I am left to sit and think by myself. I don't mind. I can just work on the plan while they're busy. I don't mind at all.

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