Scarlet Legacy (Completed)

S1-38 | Rapture

Note: You are about to read the PG-13 version of this chapter.  You can find the mature version of this chapter in my profile. The book is titled "Scarlet Legacy M" and only available to readers 18 and above due to detailed violence and gore.

S1-38. Rapture

Cold.

I could feel it seeping through my skin, straight to my bones. In response, my body curled up tighter, either to quell the shiver that raced up my spine or the pain that racked my body in short intervals.

Renz made sure I was stacked full of morphine before he retired for the night, as he always did. But the pain merely ebbed enough to allow my thoughts to wander. The morphine was never enough. Overnight, the cuts and wounds would heal, only to recur again the next day, sometimes even worse.

My whole body trembled at the thought of tomorrow.

Tomorrow was always new. Every time he comes he does something new. New meant something worse, New meant transcending the pain of yesterday.

How many days had passed? Weeks? Months?

Time did not exist in this place, the torture hours infinite and yet I could never get used to the pain. The way the blade sliced up my skin, the way its sharp end poke until its thrust deep in my quivering flesh.

Was I alive?

What does being alive even mean?

I sat up, huddling to the corner by the wall. The bare walls taunted me in every direction. An orange light slipped through the rusty metal bars on the top of the metal door. It reminded me of the sun, of hope. My heart squeezed painfully, but no tears came out. The tears had long stopped coming, ever since –I couldn't remember. Rocking back and forth using my heels, I stared at it, watching, waiting till the morning comes and dreading it as well.

Sleep evaded me, or I might have evaded sleep. For with sleep, the nightmares came filled with horrendous things he could do. For with sleep, I am allowing myself to dream, to fantasize that I'll be saved. And that's all there was to it –a dream, a pitiful assurance of my subconscious mind. Help never came.

It never will. A voice whispered in my ear. My lips trembled, my teeth chattering softly as the words sink in my mind.

No one is coming.

No one.

No one.

I grasped the side of my head, closing my eyes tightly, and curling back on the floor.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" I chanted the words under my breath, fighting the voices inside my head. They were loud, taunting, pitying.

The loud creak of the metal door as it opened vanquished the voices. It stopped and for a moment, I was glad, giddy even until I realized what it meant.

How can it be morning already?

I could feel my body starting to shake, the fear growing inside my belly until it seized my arms and legs and I couldn't move. The familiar sound of his boots against the floor filled my ears, followed by the smooth metallic clink nearby. A sound I had become too familiar with, and with my screams, it would become a symphony of pain –of death.

Brown leather boots came into view, dried blood staining most parts. I cringed, lips trembling as it continued its way towards me. My breath hitched, but it made a swift turn two steps away. I visibly relaxed, but the sound of metals clinking together had my back stiffening in alarm.

"We are going to try something new today."

I started to shake my head. New wasn't good, with him it never was. The torture hours stretched on and on until my body couldn't take it anymore and I was slowly drifting out of consciousness.