10. Breath Again

     The sound of her fingers against the keyboard was a dull clacking. Her curly hair, little more than a replica hewn of cords, tumbled past her shoulders. It tangled in her curled, fake horns and caught in the seams of her back. Her smooth red orbs for eyes followed the blue text as it slowly inched across the screen in front of her.  The light from this rectangular portal to the outside reflected off the smooth metal planes of her face and torso, alit on the symbol adorning her chest. 
     Once, this had been a sign of her status, and, even though her caste was the lowest, she had worn it proudly. Now, it was just a lie, an undesirable image painted in a noble, highblood blue. 
     The robot put her metal fingers to her face in dim sorrow. She barely remembered the vividness of her life before this cold, dead iron body. The vague emotions, those unfathomable thing that tied themselves to the memories, they were just shallow impressions. The only thing that captured her mind now was rage, but that rage was blinding. That was the only emotion, but for this suffocating sadness. 
     The girl sighed. She curled up in the chair, metal tube of a skirt drawn up to her sharp chin. She longed to be truly alive . There wasn't a moment that passed where this wish didn't cross her mind. She wanted to be able to feel, to love and hate and cry. She wanted to be able to sense the world around her, the sun on her skin, the solid ground under her feet. But most of all, she wanted to breath again.