| Jess |
Ever since you asked me, Master, I have been trying harder to remember. Recently, my dreams have become more vivid, and less vague. I remember instances, instead of just feelings, and colors, and light....
I remember why it hurts, instead of just the pain, and I'm beginning to understand what I really was.
Its like the demons inside of me have finally decided to allow me to know, now that I... now that I have someone to help me.
My last dream was as such:
Its dark, and its silent, though there is no comfort in it. The air is heavy, thick, like a fog, and hot, too. It seems to be living, moving around me, breathing down my neck. Yet there is no one else there. I'm alone, I can feel it, even though I cannot see it...
I have just woken up, and at first, I can't even tell if I'm awake, or if this is just part of some nightmare... But no, after a while, I know that I am conscious. I try to move, but I can't. Cold bracelets bite into my ankles and wrists, attached to long chains: keeping my arms pinned behind my back, and me, doubled over, on my knees. I'm kneeling on stone, for it is cold too, just like the shackles. Its a horrible feeling... being so alone and so helpless. Not something I am used to, I think, for I am suddenly scared. As soon as the panic fully arises, it happens.
I hear a voice above me, behind me, next to me... Its close, but at the same time far away. It seems to be everywhere at once. Its a deep voice, with undertones of hate - hate directed solely at me. "Little creature," it says, and suddenly I am to afraid to move, for I have been struggling against my bonds in my panic, I realize. "Little creature: Creature of the light, they called you once. But now, now you are nothing." A bright light suddenly halos me, the light comes from above, and I can only stare at the shadow it causes beneath me. In the shadow, I can see myself, like a reflection without clear features, for the surface I am on is finely polished.
And in this reflection: I have wings. Wings, Master. Big, gorgeous wings sprouting from my shoulder blades and pinioned over me to protect my body from that piercing light that crushes down on me from above. And I can feel them... I can feel the wings, I can feel the muscles in my back twitching, tightening to keep those wings above me, poised oh so carefully.
Then I see a pair of black booted feet, the tips inching into the light. And I hear the cold click of metal against metal. And I'm more scared then I have ever been.
The boots take a step closer to me... and for the first time my own voice echoes in the stillness around me. "Please... please don't," I'm begging, for I seem to know what is to come.
A gloved hand takes hold of one of my wings. I can feel it, and I can see it in the reflection. I can't see what the hand or the boots belong too, for its face is turned away from the light, causing it to fall in shadow.
"Don't..."
"It is to late for you, little one - little nothing," the voice lifts up around me again. It does not belong to the thing standing above me, but the cackle that fills the silence the fading voice leaves behind does indeed. When it dares to speak, its own voice is an itch in the back of its throat, nails grating against a smooth surface in my ears." "I've been waiting for you, Sunstroke."
And then all I know is pain as something round, pointed, and solid smashes against my right shoulder, shattering the bone upon impact and forcing my forehead hard against the ground. This, however, is only a small dose of pain as a part of me is torn from my body. The echoes of my scream only drown out the sound as flesh is ripped from flesh, muscle cleaved from muscle, and bone pulled from bone so forcefully and without a second thought, that it sends my body into convulsions. I don't feel the tears running down my cheeks, but instead the hot flow of blood as it streams from the new wound in my back. Feathers dance down around me, as testimony to what I already know.
"One down..." that voice tells me, once the echoes of my scream have ceased to reverberate in the hollowness of the room I am in. "One to go." I have given up on begging, and am reduced to small, feverish whimpers, to shocked to be surprised that I hadn't passed out from the pain in the first place. The weapon the creature had used the first time came crashing to the ground, revealing itself to be a mace, now covered in blood and bloody feathers. My blood, my feathers.
A long, snakelike thing wraps itself around my neck, and then begins to squeeze, suffocating me as a hand falls upon and clenches my remaining wing. Now I cannot even whimper as I struggle for air. I suppose he did this to keep me from screaming, or to keep me in his total control, enjoying the site of my crimson soaked body writhing in infinite pain beneath his, for the thing that tries to asphyxiate me is his tail: covered in deep red and black scales and fur.
He doesn't plan on letting me go easy, this time, he does not wish to render me flightless with one, simple act like before. His hatred for me is tangible, and he wishes to induce as much pain as is possible. He doesn't have to say it, I know.
"Poor creature, poor pathetic being. See how you tremble at my voice now. How long have I been hiding under rocks, in thickets, in the very core of the earth, hiding from you? How have I trembled for ages at the sound of your voice, of the flutter of these... accursed... wings..." At every pause, the pressure he had upon the appendage tightened, and he pulled up sharply: just enough to cause intense pain, but not enough to render it asunder like its partner. I couldn't scream, I couldn't breath, and I knew he was enjoying it. "Now you cower before me." The muscles in my back tightened further, this time to combat the strong grip of the hell spawn above me as he began to pull up on the wing agonizingly slowly. He was strong, how strong I didn't even realize until just now, when nothing I could do would wretch my wing from his grasp. Bones began to click as muscle was strained, ripped, and skin was pulled past the breaking point. He maintained the slow pace steadily, refusing to grant me any type of release from the torture. My whole back was tender and he knew it; this new treatment was designed to exploit that fact maliciously. I suppose it was difficult to maintain both the pace and his grip on my throat, as the tail slackened ever so slightly. But it was enough to let me inhale sharply and grant myself enough voice to whisper, "Please," before the slack was corrected.
"Please?" he hissed. "Is it mercy you seek?" I was unable to answer. "I am not a creature of mercy." The sickening smile in his voice was like a vice, clenching my stomach, tying it into further knots as it recoiled from both tribulation and fear.
Have you ever broken a bone, Master? Do you know what it feels like when your bones snap? Have you ever dislocated your shoulder, Master? Do you know the pain of bones being ripped from their sockets? That is what it was, only instead of the sharp, quick pang that leaves only echoes of itself in your broken body, this affliction was prolonged. I could feel the bones scraping against each other as they were pulled apart. I could feel the muscles heave, rip, tear, collapse upon themselves as they were stretched to their limits and torn. I could feel the skin recoil in waves before going numb as the nerve endings and veins between them were severed.
And the blood. Now I was lying in a pool of my own blood, and from the loss of it my head began to swim, darkness creeping into the corners of my vision, a reflection of what was happening to me above.
"I will finish this before you pass out, pathetic nothing. I am not a creature of mercy, I will not grant you the release of unconsciousness before my job is finished..."
Upon his last words he gave one final yank, and the flesh and bones finally gave out. The second wing, my last wing was wrenched from me, taking with it any hope I had left. The flood of pain was so intense, and the lack of air so demanding, that I could only lie witness as the feathered appendage sailed through the air, disappearing into the darkness, before I, myself, fell into that same empty blackness...
I woke up, then, Master... I can tell you no more today. But... *take off vest and show scars that look fresh* The morning I woke up, I was in a pool of blood... Blood from these.
