john murphy, WITCH

25 | Beggars Can't Be Choosers

They refused to call her Haiplana and so Viena made sure they knew it was the worst decision they had ever made.

Minutes could feel like hours and yet hours could feel like seconds as they stood at her mercy. Time was not real and not even their captor kept track, as Viena had bigger things to worry about.

She wanted her prisoners to be scarred beyond compare when they left her, the witches to have learnt their lesson and frankly she was annoyed that someone had beaten her too it. She had very little untampered flesh left for her on the pair, she wondered to herself what they had done in particular to deserve such punishment.

Murphy didn't know it was possible to feel this weak, to feel like every single one of your bones and muscles was disintegrating beneath you. Every movement he did was a strain, every move became a marathon. So when Viena pulled him up towards her, he didn't respond, only looked at her blankly, "You better start talking," She took out a knife from her pocket and watched as John came to the realisation that it was actually his, "And fast."

She placed the tip of the blade directly over his heart and lightly traced a 'x' shape, she wasn't planning on penetrating the skin but with so many cuts already blood was bound to be spilled.

All he did was laugh, "I dare you." He replied.

"Ungrateful bastard." She struck him across his face and pushed him back to the floor. He was not going to call her bluff because she knew she wouldn't kill them, they were only useful alive and the pair knew that. She was so close to breaking them, so close to getting exactly what she wanted.

She wasn't going to wait anymore. Leaving Murphy lying on the cave floor she turned to Winnie and began her poisoning.

Winnie had become impossible to read, she had stopped crying but never seemed to fully regain the iron like statue she had when she first entered the cave. Now, however Viena was going to use everything she had against Winnie Scarfone.

"I like him," Viena told the other witch but even Winnie had learned that it was too much energy to become angry at every word her captor said, years of practise meant it wasn't that hard a task, "He's something special."

The witch knew what was about to come, "It would be a real shame if something were to happen to him...."

Viena very carefully let the tip of her blade pierce through her finger and continued, "He already seems so fragile. I don't think it would take much."

"If you do, I won't talk." Winnie replied.

"We'll see," Viena smiled, "Anya, it's time."

Anya came in with her knife drawn and Winnie watched in absolute horror as it was laden with a thick black substance that had a couple of drops that were threatening to ooze off of it. It reminded her of the thick oil that older parts of the Ark used for various reasons and that meant she knew one thing about it; it had to be toxic.

"This one is for Lincoln." Anya muttered to John.

He didn't even hear her, the only sense that worked were his smell and touch. He could smell the thick and clogging stench of the tar as it came closer to his nose and then he felt the excruciating burn as it dropped down onto his chest and smoke rose from the change of temperature. It didn't disappear at all in the coming seconds but the drip on the back of his neck did and that was the one thing driving him mad.

"No," Winnie whispered.

"What was that?" Viena asked as if she was speaking to a little child, a little child she was encouraging to jump off a cliff.

"I said stop it! " This time Winnie shouted louder than she had done at any member of camp, at any meeting or any event.

Even Anya stopped in her tracks to look at Winnie, her lips in a thin line across her face yet her hand still poised at John's throat.