Ivy Bathory

[32] : Fox

"I only love the dark because it understands me..."

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Ivy's POV

He was merciless.

Brutal.

Harsh.

And annoying.

When you call Claude - or preferably any King - to come help drill answers out of a person, then things are bound to get a little bit too messy, no matter how hard they try to keep things tidy.

I scowl when another scream bounces across the room and lift my eyes from the hard math question I'd been working on solving for the past hour. Kent had managed to leave me some work after our heated session on Sunday. Stuff I'm supposed to have learnt but haven't because of my one week absence from school. He'd given me over five pages to go research and study all by myself. I've done all I can to postpone doing it, but I'd immediately given up when I realized I needed a great distraction from the sight before.

There was blood all over their bodies. The twins, I mean. They hang by chains tied to their wrists that were somehow linked to the ceiling. Their toes merely brushed the ground floor and their arms carried the body weight with strained force, managing to stretch to their limits. They were also hurt, bad.

So many nasty gashes bled from their bodies. Like Passion of Christ all over again.

Their shirts had been discarded and torn to pieces, their jeans fell beneath their feet, collecting little of the blood that managed to drip down. The carrot hair failed to hide their mentally exhausted expressions, the way their dry patchy lips parted to heave out ragged breathes and choke out blood, how their dull eyes heavily shut momentarily and fluttered open with pain. They were going through hell.

A hell which I'd refused to give them mainly because I was in no mood for torturing. I wanted to kill. Watch life drain out of someone's eyes. Sink a blade into their hearts. I couldn't do that though because I knew well that that's what my insanity wanted. That's what the demons want me to do and I couldn't let them drive me. I can't let them take over.

At least not now.

I rub my temples when another anguished scream ricochets throughout the room, giving the voices in my head another wave of commotion before dying down as well. I raise eyes with mild anger.

"Would you boys keep it down? I'm trying to do my homework."

Claude's mouth is filled as he takes a bite of the sandwich in his loaded hands, looking at me with fake innocent eyes. "I'm not doing anything."

Brenda screams again, groaning. I blink as I notice the open small bag of salt tied above his head and wrapped around his wrists. Each time he even so much as moves slightly, multiple miniscule white pieces sprinkle down, sinking into his bleeding red flesh.

"Well do something to shut him up." I glare. "I'm need to concentrate."

"Sure, princess." He pulls out a dripping wet cloth, one that's soaked with chili sauce and ties it around the man's mouth, letting the extreme burning of the taste sink into his lips. Brenda groans in pain once more, coughing and choking on the acidic taste, but the sound dissolves into the cloth. Claude turns back to me with a raised eye brow.

"Happy now?"

"Very." I grumble, returning to my work.

Yet thirty more minutes later, undisturbed with only muffled screams filling the room, I still find it entirely difficult to understand the work laid out before me without my tutor around to explain. I scratch my hair in frustration. If this stuff doesn't pay off in the future then I swear I'll commit suicide.