The Fall to Vhytera

7. Heated

Quin

"Get up" the guard said through the bars of her dark cell. Quin could make out the silhouette of the tall chubby man who had beaten her to sleep last night. She had barely woken, her joints ached and her split lip faintly burned. She tried to sit up, her eyes adjusted, blood covered her clothes and the ends of her long white-blonde hair. She was fascinated by the contrast of the dark dried blood on her light hair. She always found something fascinating in horrible things. At least she had slept, he might had to knock her out to get it done, but the beautiful nothingness of sleep had come. She couldn't wait for it to come and claim her again, sleep was the only thing that kept her sane, or so she thought, she already had lost most of her emotions 92,4%, so the chance that she had lost her mind and slowly turned into a crazy person was 87%. Her brain still found a way to use her power, her gift of knowledge even when she was this weak, because her other gift, strength, provided her the ability to survive even when the odds were slight.

The guard opened her cell and stood before her, she looked up hat him, her face blank. The reek of sweat coming off him, oh how she would love to kill him, dump his stinking body in the ocean and satisfyingly watch it sink. Unfortunately that was not an option, if she would kill now, she would lose all that is left of her, she had killed too much in a short period of time. Quin had no hold on herself anymore, one more kill could mean she would never be able to become herself again. That was the 7,6% that was left, the fear of losing herself, or actually, lose the chance of getting that person back.

"I told you to get up blondie" the guard said while he lowered himself, putting his face inches from hers. She kept her face blank, not a hard thing to do when you basically feel nothing. The guard raised a brow "Always the hard way. That means more fun for me princes.'' He grabbed her arms and howled her upright, her legs aching, struggling to keep her standing, but quickly they adjusted and she stood, the guard still towering over her. She knew what came next, they played this game day in day out. She provoked him and he would beat her till she got knocked out.

The guard drew his hand back and in a swift movement and hit her face with a flat hand. Pain shot through the left side of her face, the little older wounds in her mouth split open and blood filled her mouth. The guard stepped back, a hint of a smile crept over his face. Something snapped inside her and she spat the content of her blood-filled mouth in his face. Damn him, damn everyone in this godforsaken hell hole, may they all rot and die slowly, she thought. She was already thinking up several ways to strike him and kill him right on this spot, but then that tiny voice kicked in and told her no, Quin it's not worth it. The guard staggered back a little "You blonde bitch!" he spat out. Blood spatters covered most of his face, he stepped closer balled his right fist and drew it back to strike again.

"Hold it." A low male voice said. Quin could hear two sets of footsteps and see two shadows approaching, when they came near she could make out who it were, the twins. Zylon and Zoila, one young man and one young woman, heirs to the Vedo tribe. The information filled her head, things her gift had unconsciously picked up, knowledge that might come in handy when the time came, but as to why they were down here, coming to her cell, she had no idea.

"What do you think you're doing guard Somins ?" Zylon, the dark haired young man, asked the guard. Somins, a weak name for a weak man, she thought. She noticed markings on the young heirs face, scars, two thick straight lines on both cheekbones, too perfect to be from accidental wounds. His twin had matching marks, one thick line down the middle of her forehead and one on her chin.

"The young lady was provoking me, warrior Zylon. I was told she was of no worth to your tribe and was held here for terrible crimes, I punished her for provoking me as I saw fit." Somins said to the warrior. Warrior, a title that fitted his looks perfectly, the arrogance in his movements and the way he carried his body, he had warrior written all over him. Quin thought.