TOY SOLDIER [IX] ▸ Poe Dameron

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE [XXXI]

[tw: strong language + slurs + whoa boy that's a lot of violence + torture]
[[yes this is a very graphic chapter read at your own discretion]]

YOU COULD HEAR THE WHIPLASH ON SABIK'S RAW, BLOODY FLESH FROM MILES AWAY.

It snapped and cracked upon the same lash mark again and again and you could hear the screams clawing their way out of the young boy's throat just the same. It was unavoidable.

My princess ran to the square, and I, unable to leave her alone, only screamed in desperation as I ran after her. My screams joined with Sabik's, mingled and mixed to sound like hell to Alya's ears.

But my efforts were no use; She ran anyway. Once she had made her mind up, there was no changing it, unfortunately.

Once we arrived in the center of town, a thick crowd had formed. It was clear something was happening, as it appeared that nearly the entire population was here- though we weren't able to see the platform and we had to push through the many, many nameless, slack-jawed faces in order to get through. She was still a ways ahead of me despite my dead sprint and I could see her back, the way her curls bounced as she escaped me. I was so close, almost there. My grasp almost closed around her bicep, just above the elbow, as it swung back as she ran. My fingertips merely grazed her flesh, tempting me of being able to save her.

But I couldn't. I wasn't able to grab her before she rushed the platform. I tumbled into the masses, blocked by brick shoulders and held back. I melted into the crowd and became one of the slack-jawed fragile figurines, spectating at the scene.

What used to be Sabik's back was now a raw, bloody slab of meat. He was slumped over on his weak knees, struggling and shaking to support himself, and the only thing that holds him up is the rough cords of rope burning red bracelets around his wrists. Tears streaked his dark skin, bitterly hot, stinging in shame as he took the whip over and over. A familiar face held the weapon raised to strike the traitor's skin. It was the blue-fanged humanoid from before, and beside him stood the Rodian, arms crossed and wearing a curling smirk upon his lips. He was enjoying this.

And to the side, seated on a pedestal, a throne overlooking it all, sat Dengar. Dengar raised his hand once more, a simple flick of the wrist. A motion, a command to raise the whip again.

"Nimm," he cooly instructed the humanoid- that was the creature's name- and rubbed his chin almost thoughtfully, "You know, he hasn't been crying enough already. It's bad enough we can't track down his disgusting friends, but we couldn't even manage to locate his mother. How I would have loved for her to see this." He flicked his wrist again. "Fifty more lashes. However many it takes for this foolish young boy cry out for his mother."

Nimm raised his blood-spattered arm again and it was too late to block it from descending. Alya knew that too, but she still rushed the stand, throwing herself across as much of Sabik's broken body as possible to protect him. She let out this knotted, scratchy, and sharp "No!" from the crowd and I swear to the stars that it's the worst sound that has ever reached my ears- a sound emitted from the throat of a girl who was fully aware that she was going to lose everything, but she did it anyway. She took the full force of the blow and the lash splintered her cheek, sending her flying backward into the ground.