Born of Blood

Chapter 7

It was a pain Scarlet had never felt before.

Scarlets screams had gone from sharp and piercing, echoing in the dirty, concrete room, to horse and more moans than anything. Her body had gone from convulsing, bile spilling from her lips as she fought against the binds that held her- silver chains burning her flesh off- to limp. She hung dead, her arms and legs no longer supporting her. She could feel her tissues disintegrating against the silver cuffs, but she was too gone to do anything but release low, wheezing, breaths from her throat. She could feel the long, pulsing, lacerations that ran down her back, hang open, the tissue solely held on by connective tissue to her bones. They were flapped back, exposing what little muscle she did have to the world around her as it slumped open, no longer tethered to her body.

But she was numb.

She had lost so much blood, so much blood. Her fingertips tingled like static, and her legs were numb. She couldn't focus on screaming anymore, the whip had cut through her skin so many times she could only moan when it opened a new flap of tissue, or criss-crosses through tissue already ripped apart. Her body had no control, no more feeling other than pressure. It's only purpose was existing. It stayed still, and it breathed, the organisms sole purpose. In and out, oxygen was weak flowing over her dry lips, salty stains dried down her cheeks where her tears had ran out so long ago. Her body did not look at its surroundings, it did not try to escape, it solely focused on surviving.

This punishment was more.

It was more than she had ever received before from the whip. It's carrier had been in a rage, spitting fire with his words, heaving a bulls raging breaths, speaking so viciously it almost sounded as if it was in tongues. Something had upset Apollo. He didn't have time to tell her what her punishment was for; what she did wrong to deserve to die this day. He just muttered under his breath, building his rage back up, before snapping that whip back down across her skin until his veins bulged across his body.

"It can't be right, it can't be!" His veins were bulbous in his neck and arms as he walked around Scarlet's dying form, grabbing her by her disgusting, unwashed, hair. His thick fingers knitted into her matted curls and yanked her head back, she could feel her open, gaping tissue wobble on her cold body as her back hung open.

"You can't be it!" He spit in her face, dropping the whip and her head

"You abomination! You weak bitch!" His gloved hands gripped Scarlet's hand and forearm.

A gravelly, weak cry echoed in the room as he pulled down, forcing the silver shackles to burn through her tissue, grinding against her bone. She so badly wanted to beg for her life, to scream and to plead with this devil to let her go. Though, it had been drilled into her head for so long that if she were to speak, she were to suffer. If she were to talk back, her punishments would be multiplied- she couldn't imaging multiplying this punishment would end with her surviving; if this punishment would even end with her surviving.

"You're weak! You're nothing! You're something that should have been put to sleep the moment you were born!" He shouted as he released her hand and arm from his grip. Her shaky wheezing and his panting was all to be heard in the space.

Her eyes met his, her glassy, tear-filled, blue, rolling to meet his dark blue, rage pulsing, orbs.

She knew she was dying, in that moment, she could feel her heart stop in realization.

Her body was so cold. 

So numb.

He picked up the whip with an angry growl, pacing the space in front of her limp body, before stopping in front of her.