The Berserker

23

Hello everyone. Here is the new update for you all.

Keep in mind, like many Vikings, they are barbaric. There is a read with caution warning. When you see these ** That is the start of the trigger scene. It is a rape trigger. But I purposely did it at the end so I can cut it off. You know me and cliff hangers. Hehe.

Well, enjoy. Love you xx

Catherines POV

The binds tightened around my wrist the more I fought the fibrosis material. I have welts upon welts. But it was wise of them to keep me contained. The old me - the girl who I was all those months ago when Tormad and his men took me from my village wouldn't have needed to be bound and caged. She would have whimpered but fearfully followed these men to her woeful death.

Now! I would have put up somewhat of a fight and died doing so. My dagger in hand, coated in thick, sticky blood.

Igor's words keep relaying. An infinite loop. To survive, the enemy has to die.

I could be their enemy, just as much as they are mine. They aren't treating me like a guest.

We walk when the sun is up, and rest when it descends back into the mountains. At night, they lock me away and guard my cage heavily.

My feet have blistered, and my wrist has now bled. My mind wanders back to when Igor carried me, and Helga tended to my feet. I was foolish to think cruelly of them. And what I would give, just to see their faces once more.

"Do you mind not watching me?" I sneer at the man towering over me whilst I relieve my bladder. Because I am bound, he has to help me. I hated how he took his time to lower my pants. If I wasn't going to be stuck in these same clothes, I would have leaked all over him.

He grunts but obliges and turns to face the other way. With him not watching my every move, I take this opportunity to bite down on my sleeve. It is in tatters. Now a worthless garment, and probably best suited as a rag. I tear away enough material that is inconspicuous, but visible enough to someone who has the eye for detail. Igor with his skill for hunting.

Along with the small cloth, I rub my bleeding limbs against the low branch.

"Are you done?" Svein grunts, and turns around. I stood, hoping that he wouldn't notice the cloth, but would pass up the blood on the branches as I tried to gain leverage to pull myself up. I made it clear. I don't want him lingering any longer than needed.

"I can understand why the English women don dresses," he mumbles but still follows through with his duties. I grit my jaw when his hand suddenly slips and cups my neither region. There are no warm flutters, like the ones I get from Tormad,

Instead, all I feel is the need to choke him. My arms can easily slip around his grimy neck... I have them raised - ready to take him by surprise.

"The sun is setting," a voice cries out nearby, reminding me there are others just like him around. So instead of following through with my unthought-out plan, I just ball my fist and breathe, lowering my arms back down.

"She needs to be in the cage," the same guy reminds Svein like he didn't know this already. He doesn't reply, they hardly talk at all. At least at Tormad's camp, the people are jovial. They sing, dance, laugh. I hear them when I shut myself away. I didn't like how they would be so chirpy after the heinous crimes they committed. But what I would give to hear just one song from Helga or a stupid remark from Igor. I would sell my soul if I could gaze into the deep blue eyes of the sinner himself... Tormad. The man who plagues my lonely nights while I'm locked away.

I know he wouldn't let me go without a fight. I feel it in my heart that Tormad is tracking our every move. At least, I hoped he was. I may have disliked how our paths met, but truth be told, I was lonely before him. I had my father, and a few stares from the boys, but nothing would come of those glances. They didn't make my heart beat, not like Tormad.