Disclaimer:
This content contains VIOLENCE Meaning... if you don't want to read anything with blood or gore at all DON'T READ THIS!
Waves of heat cascade down my body, starting from my head down all the way to the tips of my toes - the overpowering anger flowing throughout my body, bringing power to my muscles, renewed energy to my once lifeless body. The adrenaline pumps through my veins like a drug, intoxicating and so wanted, drowning out all those pitiful voices of my conscience and past groans of my limited flesh. All I see is red, all I feel is this thrilling, terrifying power and rage. The first spasms of ecstacy ripple through my left arm as my fist collides with the face of an unknown enemy, easily crumpling his skull into a cracked indiscernible mess. That’s the end of him, one less force from which to get this high.
The feeling shoots through my arms to my head, clouding my red vision with undescribable joy as I jam my fist into the gut of another minion, my right elbow into the unprotected throat of an assailant trying to catch me from behind. The first doubles over, I can hear him feebly gasping for breath, and the second seems to be having the same fight with his airway.
My drugged mind somehow sends me a message, reminding me not to use up these enemies too fast, lest the feeling fade before squeezing out every spasm of pleasure possible from their worthless bodies. The split second it takes for that thought costs me though; a fist fills my vision as I feel the pain pierce my face. My vision truly becomes red, not just with rage but with the blood that gushes from a newly made wound cutting across my right brow. The pain is quickly forgotten however when the blood reaches my lips - such a sweet treat! The precious fluid traces around my lips tauntingly before it flows into my open mouth, raising the intensity of my intoxication, granting me this horribly ecstatic feeling. The blood, I must have it, to fuel my bloodlust, my demented need. The first dose of the glistening wonder drug comes from the enemy who hit me in the face, now trying to break my arm as he flings me into another crowd of assailants. That’s quickly stopped however as I use my momentum against him to continue to propel myself right back towards him, my fist first hitting his chest with a cracking force, then moving up to his head where the blood flows freely from red meat that was his face moments ago.
I dodge the faceless enemies as I lick my bloodied hand with loving desire, allowing in a few punches to boost their confidence. I hear a crack that doesn’t come from the enemies as a foot breaks my ribs. I collapse on the floor, the pain overwhelming, amazingly welcome as I let them beat my fallen body.
After a few moments the lack of lovely red juice drives me to move. I grab a foot a second before it collides with my face, twisting it until I hear the sweet cracking sound of broken bones, so welcome and familiar now, followed by that scream that sends pangs of pleasure through my body. Those screams, that blood, I must have more, more - MORE!
I spin around and jump to my feet, the pain of my broken and mangled body fueling me to continue the fight. Everything goes red as I completely surrender to the sensation, that wonderfully horrible feeling I so yearn for. The last thing I hear are the screams of the men now fleeing for their lives, soon to end.
I come to, my vision slowly returning with my mind, or more what’s left of it.
Standing in a pool of blood I survey the massacre. Everything has been painted red with the blood of my assailants - the crusty alley floor, the walls splattered shining crimson, the mangled bodies of the men, and me, dyed completely red by the life juice of the others. Only after I see the degree of devastation I’ve done do I realize I taste something sweet in my mouth. I look down at my hand as if it’s not part of my body, stuck in my mouth as I robotically suck the blood from it. After another agonizingly long moment do I remember how to remove my hand from my mouth, the removal of that sweet treat leaving my mouth wanting.
"How could I do this?" I whisper to myself as I walk across the crimson carpet of blood, going further into the alley. With my first step I shockingly and powerfully realize the extent of damage to myself. Pain flares into my mind, my muscles, my very bones with undescribable intensity, blinding me temporarily in white flashes of hot torture. I force myself to keep walking though, to get out of this place as I use a wall to keep me from collapsing, dragging a red trail while I move into the darkness.
"Very impressive." An alien voice, a male voice. It sends my heart leaping into my throat as it tries to pound its way out of my broken body, stiff with fear. I am much too weak to fight anymore, regardless of how strong my bloodlust could ever become and so I lean against the dirty wall, paralyzed and afraid.
"I wouldn’t have thought you to be such a merciless demented animal." I can feel my anger flare at the comment though the fear quickly puts it in its place. "I never thought you could be so powerful. I’m glad you survived - it would have been such a waste to have to lose you." The voice is cold, cutting and mysterious; coming from... somewhere in the darkness.
"What the heck are you talking about? I’m not yours, I’m no one’s!" I shouted as a spasm of pain forces me to hold my tongue and gasp for breath. Cold laughter follows. It cuts into me, flaring my anger as I stand there, leaning against the wall holding my side.
"If you know what I can do then you better get out of here before I rip you to shreds," I say in a whisper, my words dripping with rage and hatred but also tinged with the slightest fear I desperately hope the mystery figure can’t detect.
"Is that a tinge of fear I hear?" My eyes flare for a moment at his stupid insight and even more hatred at the revelation that I am vulnerable to whatever this twisted entity may have in store for me.
"Here, let me soothe your troubles, and make your fears realizations." A flicker of light for a second - that’s all I see before I feel it, sticking out of my bloodied neck. By simple reflex I quickly pluck it out, holding the shining dart between my thumb and forefinger, wondering just what it is that I had been injected with, now coursing through my veins. Two more twinges of light break through the darkness as I feel another prick in my chest and thigh.
"Go away!" I shout into the darkness as I turn around, limping back to the slaughter.
It hits me. I stop after a few steps, a quizzical look on my face, feeling like I was hit by an elephant. Then it comes again, wave upon wave, crashing into me, breaking me down relentlessly.
The laughing, the cold biting laughing - he’s watching me fall - and enjoying it! My vision starts to turn red but the drugs from the darts overpower my broken body and refuse me the power and freedom of my rage.
"Sleep now, little monster." My vision fades to black as I slip into unconsciousness, now so unwanted. The last thing I see is a pair of shining black shoes; the last thing I hear, that cutting laughter shredding the rags of my confidence into pieces.
Screaming, searing pain and darkness. That is what I am woken up to. Actually, it was the darkness, in a place I didn’t know, completely bewildered and lost and angry. Then came the screaming, yells and screams of rage and defiance, fighting against an unknown amount of restraints I discover holding me down in this blackness when I try to get up. That led to the pain, straining my already broken body to their limits before the bones further crack against the leather chaps and metal chains.
The leather straps aren’t as hard, managing to break some of them, but they cling so tightly, so suffocating along with the chilling metal of the chains, digging into my rebellious flesh. And so, finding no other alternative for escape I keep screaming, voicing my outrage to the darkness until my lungs burn with fire and my chest heaves in protest. Once that option is exhausted, my vocal chords being sufficiently ripped, my flesh bleeding from new wounds caused by the restraints, I lay there, contemplating my fate, whatever that might be.
White, blinding light pierces the darkness as a door opens from what must have been where the wall is in this dismal abyss.
"Done with your tantrum now I see..." The familiar cutting voice. My shackles and restraints shake in protest as my muscles tense, fighting desperately against this prison.
I can dimly make out the outline of a suit, the light sucked in by its black colour. The light shines on a thick head of hair, slicked back perfectly. There is a piece of something in his hand and I can hear the sound of leather being pulled taught as he plays with a broken piece in his hands. He makes a little sound of amusement as he walks around my little prison, a table of some kind with so many restraints it looks like a tangled mess, eyeing me, examining me.
He seems to be fairly confident in the restraints because as he walks around he lightly touches the chains that bind me, his fingers touching the cold metal, the hard leather and my bloodied clothes and skin. The moment I feel him touch my skin I go into a mad frenzy, fighting my prison for all I am worth. The chains groan, the leather snaps as do most of my bones as I writhe against this... this thing, with all that I have. He doesn’t move his hand from my skin though, simply moving it with my jolts. Only when he seems satisfied with my outrage does he remove his hand from me, now stained red with a mix of other’s and my blood.
When I can no longer test the strength of the chains I hold my body tense, trying to keep the half of the restraints remaining as taught as possible. He continues to walk around my prison, intermittently looking between his reddened hand and I with his piercing gaze, that look that terrifies me for some unknown reason and enrages me because of it.
He has moved almost full-circle, stopping at the head of the fixture, staring down at me as I glare up at him, my chest heaving up and down, each breath being accompanied by the sounds of broken bones rubbing against one another.
"Now," he says raising his hands to each side of my head. I freeze at the motion, warily looking at the hands that hang threateningly close to my face. Then, looking up into those steely eyes, I see it. He knows precisely where he put them, it was obvious from the slight upturn of his lips and the murderous glint in his eyes; he’s threatening me. I just don’t know why. I don’t even know why I’m here, though I’m more concerned about simply getting out and away from this man.
"Now, I don’t know why but I have the feeling that you don’t particularly like being touched." The sardonic look on his face cuts into me as deep as that laugh could, "So..." He leaves the sentence hanging in the air and my face contorts in surprise and utter rage as I realize what he is about to do.
The fingertips of his hands slowly touch the sides of my face as my mind goes haywire. A harsh touch, that is what is allowed, that is what is acceptable, that is only what is tolerated, not this soft, caring, cutting, unimaginable feeling. So alien it seems and vulnerable it makes me feel in my world of pain is undescribable. Simply the worst I’ve ever felt, more than mere pain which is commonplace in this life, but this estranged, ungraspable feeling that makes me feel so vulnerable. This is not wanted.
My neck and head are still securely fastened as well as other contraptions that limit my ability to stop this hated feeling. Straining with all my might against a chain that crosses over my neck I’m able to strangle myself, coughing up blood as I fight the urge to gasp for breath and stop this suicidal act. Just before I black out, yet again, do the fingers move away and the nauseating and confusing feeling stops.
I stop fighting against my restraints and only focus on breathing, drawing in long, raspy breaths amidst coughing up blood and spasms of pain from my broken body.
As soon as it began it’s over. Much to my relief the man rests his hands at his sides and walks out into the sliver of light, leaving me to think about our little meeting in this void.
For a few minutes all I can focus on is breathing, my heart pounding in my brain and my muscles trying to scream over the noise with their many protests of pain. Once my heart beat subsides enough I force myself to ignore the pain, that’s easy enough, it’s a part of life that can’t be ignored, so there’s no point in fighting it. But the feelings of his fingertips on my flesh do not fade so quickly.
"Why?!!?!" I hoarsely scream into the darkness in my frustration.
My mind continues to swim with unanswered questions and unwelcome thoughts of what this man’s intentions are for me until my broken body finally gives out, falling asleep. My dreams are filled with those thoughts realized as my mind re-enacts the horrible incident over and over again and many more just like it.
I jolt up in a cold sweat, the torn rags of my clothes clinging to my body, the blood dry and crusted, sticking to every inch of me with itching reminders of my past surrender to the bloodlust. It takes me a few moments to realize where I am, and what my situation is, simply focusing on blocking out the dreaded nightmares before I stop to stare at my hand; it’s free of shackles and restraints, like the rest of my body. Every single shackle, every piece of leather and other contraption previously strapped to me for restraint lies on the cold metal slab of steel, limp and useless.
"What happened?! What have I done?!!?!" I shout in my mind as I quickly hop off of the cold table/bed, walking around it, staring at the cursed invention.
"The door!" I whisper, turning around just in time to see a sliver of light enter the room from a crack in the opening door. What muscles I still have use of tense, readying myself with every ounce of strength left, preparing to fight. I cringe as the sound of cracking and crushing bones echoes throughout the desolate room.
I see the white of the man’s eyes as they slowly move from the empty table, scanning the room until they rest on my figure, crouched in a fighting stance.
I lunge towards him as I see his lips start to part in what would be a cry for help, my bloodied hands stretched forward, open to grasp and contort whatever they grab.
Before he’s able to utter a syllable my hands grab the smooth black fabric of his suit, and the shirt and skin concealed underneath, squeezing and pulling the clumps of fabric and flesh towards me and down to the floor, jamming the man’s face into the smooth concrete, granting me the satisfying sound of crunching bones as his face makes contact. My foot juts into the man’s back as I catapult myself over his fallen body, lunging out into the blazing white unknown.
The cold, sterile white tile beneath my feet chills my bones and my eyes try to adjust to the blinding florescent lights, my senses temporarily interrupted by this drastic change in scenery. Amidst this jar to my senses I remember one of my other senses still useful to me in my situation, hearing the heavy footsteps of nearby pursuers and the shouts which bring them to my doorstep.
My vision still a glaring white I try to estimate the location of... what sounds like no less than five people running full-out towards me, leaping into the air in blind faith that I’m hurtling over the first pursuer. My faith is rewarded by feeling silk flow past my fingertips as I jump clear over the head of not one, but two men, overambitious in their attempt to reach me first; the rest aren’t as compulsive however, as I attempt to dodge flailing body parts with my still impaired vision.
After a few agonizingly long moments of blind terror, feeling hands and bodies pressing down upon me I start to make out the dark figures of their suits, followed by light faces and hands and then definition of the features. Finally, I might just have the slimmest chance of escaping from wherever here is, back to my slightly abnormal life of solitude.
My renewed optimism is quickly extinguished as my eyesight spikes into blazing white again. Intense spasms of pain spread through my body, racking my brain and tensing all muscles in a paralyzing strain. I fall to the floor, soon accompanied by the weight of three men, pinning me to the ground as if my total paralysis isn’t adequate.
I can barely make out the words a man is saying into his walkie-talkie, eyeing me warily. Amidst spastic jerks I turn my head upwards to try to see or hear better what the man is saying and end up looking towards the open door of my previous prison. Behind the goon speaking quickly and animatedly about the situation I can make out two men helping a particularly battered looking gentleman to his feet, sporting a foot-print in the middle of his back and a bloody face of speckled cuts with a gushing nose to add to the complete deterioration of his once precocious, haughty look. He quickly brushes off the men helping him to his feet and feebly tries to compose himself, whipping out a large white handkerchief to cover the lower half of his face - especially his nose - and trying to fix his disheveled hair with his other hand. If waves of pain weren’t flowing through my body I’d smirk at his battered composure, though all I can to is twitch and jerk spasmodically from the mysterious pain and the significant weight of men still piled on top of me.
His shining shoes soon take up the majority of my view, striding towards me. They stop centimeters from my face and the smell of shoe polish fills my nostrils. "Get her up!" he shouts, his tone loud and terse.
A feeling of weightlessness comes over me as the bodies immediately lift up off me and hoist me up into the air, arms still restrained and the mysterious pain continuing to course through my body loud and clear.
