𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐍. That's how James saw her when she was thrown into his cell...The little girl with nothing but fear written across her face. She was in a little white dress, one which was now dirty with crimson red stains and splotchy dirt marks all over, and in her curly, dark brown hair was a red ribbon. Her face was not much different from her dress. It was bloody and bruised.

She was crying. Sobbing. Her tiny body shook as she let out small sobs. Her knees went to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. All James did was watch. He didn't know what else to do.

Out of all of the emotions he felt, one of them was confused. Confused as to why this crying little girl was locked in with him, a monster. Why should she be trusted with such a bad man? Why? Why should she be with a killer?

He felt pity for her. Which was something he shouldn't feel. He shouldn't feel anything at all. He wasn't allowed. But for some reason, he felt it. He felt pain and pity for that crying little girl, and he didn't know why...

Why
Why
WHY

What was it about her? Was it the crying? Or how little she was? Was it how battered her bones and body were? What was about her that made him feel so bad? He didn't understand. He didn't understand anything.

When she looked up and around her, baby blue eyes with the smallest hint of green, she saw James. He sat there, staring. He had nothing on his face, it was blank. She had scooted back into the corner. He scared her...James didn't want to scare her.

Was it his metal arm? How big he looked? He didn't know why he scared her, because he didn't intend to. He didn't intend to put a new look of fear in her eyes.

She stayed like that for the rest of that day. Tucked away and hidden in the corner. Her sobs had died down with time. Her head was leaned against the wall as she toyed with the hem of her dress. Her now bloodshot eyes stared at the wall.

James just sat there, looking at her. Watching the little girl in the red ribbon. There was something about her, something he couldn't quite figure out. She was so tiny, so little. Her eyes were widened in fear...She looked so young, which she was. She couldn't have been any older than four, maybe five.

When the cell door opened, he stood up. She just watched as a tray was tossed to the ground, as did he. No one said anything. Not one word was said. The only noise heard was the cell slamming and getting locked again.

James, who still had a blank expression on his face, waved her over. She glanced up at him, wanting to hide further in her corner as his gaze landed on her.

So, he picked up the tray and sat down next to her. "Eat." was all he said to her. She glanced up at him. She hid further in the corner, hiding her face from him.

James sighed, not knowing how to get through to the little girl. His hand outstretched, landing on her shoulder. "Eat, please." Despite the hunger he had felt in his stomach, the way it growled for food, he wanted her to eat. She was hurt, and she needed to be taken care of...

He didn't know what her name was. What would he call her? In his mind, she looked like a little baby. A small little doll almost. With her hair in a bow and now in a little dress. Granted, her dress was ruined...so, it wasn't exactly a perfect doll. Just a doll.

"What's your name?"

No answer.

She just kept hiding and hiding with her fear-filled expression. "Come on, Doll. What's your name?" His voice was rough, hoarse even. She turned to him and his hand lifted off of her shoulder. He pushed the tray toward her and pointed at it.

"I'm James..." She nodded her head.

"Cecelia." Her voice quivered. Her small, tiny little voice just shook as she said one word. Her name. He nodded his head.

"Cecelia..." He was whispering. Mumbling his words. The little girl in the red ribbon was Cecelia.

He looked down at the food on the plate. Runny mashed potatoes with gross green beans and bread with chicken. Was it good food? Absolutely not. Was it substantial? Yes. "Why don't you eat some of this?" She blinked her tears away, nodding her head up and down. "Can you?" She just nodded her head.

That's good.
That's good.

She ate bits and pieces. James didn't push her, he barely knew her well enough to. He didn't want to scare her further...

He ate what she didn't.

After that, he ripped a small piece off the bottom of her dress and walked over to the sink in there. He let it run over the fabric and then crouched in front of her.

She watched as he held the torn fabric out to her. He motioned to clean her wounds. "Can I?" She gave a small nod. He crouched down in front of her, wiping the cloth on the scratches on her face, removing the blood and grime. She just let him.

Despite his rough exterior and big strong features, he was soft with the small child. Wiping her face with such carefulness, almost as if she would break into pieces that very moment. Which, he wouldn't be surprised if she had...

She was tiny. Skin and bone. He didn't like to. It made him feel...indifferent. He didn't like the feeling that her small body gave him. Her face was clean. As clean as he could get it, at least.

After cleaning her face, he figured she should sleep. She wouldn't be getting much of it if she was here...

That night he gave her the bed. He stayed on the floor. He gave her the rock-solid, uncomfortable bed with the fleece blanket. The floor wasn't much worse than that.

a/n:
Here's the prologue...I feel like it's short but all prologues are short. So, a change from the old version is that Cecelia wasn't born in the 80's. She was born in 2006, so, her age would be 8 during CATWS...Right now it's probably 2010, so she's four.

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Updates may be a little slow since I am rewriting, but they definitely won't be posted at a snail's pace.