#01 – Caena Rogers
Her hands felt so … restricted. As a matter of fact her entire body felt smothered, but being unable to move her fingers sent a wave of discomfort down her spine. She inquired her guards on a daily basis to loosen her jacket—if only to let her flex her fingers—to no avail. The case of Caena Rogers was well known throughout the country and no one would give her the slightest space to strike again. The murder hadn’t been as awful as everyone made it out to be. In her eyes, it shouldn’t have even been considered a murder. She had merely needed a subject to work on. She didn’t mean for her patient, to die. It was his fault, if fault was to be placed, for not being a strong enough host.
A sigh escaped.
On the outside, any passerby would see a charming twenty year old. Soft silver hair and large, innocent violet eyes. Pink lips, always slightly pouted. Lovely, healthy tan skin. A melodic voice coupled not only with genius level intelligence, but with elegance and beauty as well. An amazing command of language allowed her to charm anyone she pleased. A long list of suitors. A gaggle of friends. Many admirers.
Little did anyone know the beast that lurked within until it had been too late. Nothing and no one can be perfect. They had found her bedecked in gore in her workshop at the tender age of fourteen, tinkering away as if nothing was wrong with the world. Her smile sending small cracks through the dried blood on her lips.
A low groan rumbled through her chest and out her throat followed closely by another sigh of boredom. In the six years since she’d been admitted to the asylum, nothing more exciting than a mouse skittering across the floor had transpired. Though others would be at ease at such luck, she was bordering on anger. In a facility crammed to the brim with murderers, mad scientists and the like, she had expected something amazing and had in turn been sorely disappointed. Maybe, soon. She would be able to change that.
The devil would as always, find work for her idle hands.