Death's Pet Chapter Four

Chapter Four



Sliding mischievously into the room with stone floors and plaster walls that look like they are about to cave in, she looks around in curiosity. The cream colored walls are outlined with rusty stains-leaking roof, coffee maybe...blood?-smiling around, she then sees a large cubic chunk of granite, and next to that, Brock.
         Walking towards him, her hand lifts up slightly, her fingers clenching and then closing in a motion of fear. [i]Protect me[/i] she suddenly wants to scream as Feu Chien passes her. Uncertainty and the purest of fear lace throughout her nerves; "What's going on?" tries to escape her dry mouth, but only a squeak emerges from her throat.
         Looking out from the faces of the men and woman also with Brock, Nasai's face peers out of the crowd with a mix of sympathy and a hardness Silence hasn't seen. She's trying to protect Silence by not caring. Wounded on the inside, Silence stares out at all the invading eyes and bites her lip fearfully.
         "What now?" her voice is quiet, faint. Her eyes wander towards Brock, seeking guidance but the other remarks in a cold, cool voice that cracks and hisses hatred. "Now you take your punishment." Silence's lost eyes turn towards him, but then a woman shrieks. "Cut her! Let her blood flow!"
         As if this is a cue, all the mass of hateful and scarred creatures starts to scream for such horrid acts to be forced upon her. "Whip her!" "Beat her!" "Kill the demon!" The crowd seems to like this saying, and so goes into a chant.
         "Kill the demon, kill the demon!" Every one of them is cheering. Every last one...except Brock and Feu Chien.
         Even Nasai had been caught up in the excitement, but she is cheering with less enthusiasm and watches on with sympathy. Feu Chien watches in what seems to be pure ecstasy to Silence. Brock is tense, his lips in a tight line. Silence recognizes the look and quivers in spite of herself. He wants to hurt someone very, very badly.
         "Kill the demon, kill the demon!" The words go on and on, echoing in her mind, making her gag. Silence's nerves twist and knot around those words until they very efficiently break. "Stop it!" she wails, trying with all her strength to cover her ears but two brutal men grab her arms, dragging her towards the large stone.
         "Don't!" she screams, petrified, but her mind simply coos with pleasure. [i[i]So it began, so it must end.[/i]
         "No, get off, let go! Stop!" she screams and lunges from side to side, trying to break their ever tightening hold. Shoving her face against the stone, a rough, hate-filled voice commands her to lie still.
         Shrieking, she jumps up and then feels something bite into her flesh. Blinking in bewilderment for an instant, then the pain racks her body and she lets out a blood curdling scream.
         Thrashing and kicking, clawing and biting, fighting with all her might, she doesn't even faze the werewolves. The two men then snap both her trembling and quivering arms in place. Silence doesn't look at what's holding her, she doesn't really care; all she cares about is avoiding another hit and escaping this fucked-up place.
         Quivering with a lost-puppy look, her suspicious eyes bulge as she hears something whistle in through the air in victory, and then a sharp crack. Again her body convulses in pain and she yells with a conjured feeling of fright and pain. Her back feels like she had lain in a bed of embers. Sobbing without any tears, she kicks her heels back and screams out words that only make the whip come down harder and harder on her back.
         A particularly hard yank of the whip against the nearly powerless wind cuts down through her dying muscle clear the bone. This produces a loud screech of red-hot agony from the convulsing and screaming girl.
         Suddenly Silence realizes with an overwhelming sense of loneliness that the people are cheering. They're cheering on the beating...for nothing. They hate her that much.
         Hurt, confused, alone, Silence looks at Brock. He's observing her closely, his brows furrowed in concentration. As their eyes lock he grins at her, a toothy grin that shows how little he cares about her. Even he is enjoying it.
         Having lost her intent concentration on the torture, she is caught off guard when the punisher brings the whip down and yelps shrilly. Although it rips through her neck with a rattling sound everyone cheers louder as they notice the tears blooming in her eyes.
         [i]No, damn it all, Alicia, don't cry. Damn it, you can take this! Dad could hit so much harder than this![/i] That comforts her a little. Not a lot, but some. The next hit feels softer and she only grimaces in pain even though it ripped open another bloody wound on her back. The pleasurable shouts falters and anger happens on the face of the werewolf closest to her.
         But then the whipping stops. All at once her wrists are free and she's lying on the ground in a crumbled heap. The granite had been so slick with her blood she had literally just fallen off.
         Staring up in amazement and hate, amazement because she can't believe she survived the agony, and hate because this is her hell...you feel nothing but hate in hell.
         Then she's in Nasai's arms, the nurse cooing to her gently, telling her it'll be alright, that she's here for her.
         "No, no it won't be alright. I'm going to die, Nasai. I'm going to die." She looks at Nasai with a haunted look that scares Nasai severely. "No, no dear, you'll be alright." The older woman says in a sing-song voice.
         Silence barks a laugh. "Are you deaf? I'm going to die! They're going to kill me! My sister's going to kill me!" She laughs hysterically and Nasai shudders in spite of herself. "Haven't you heard, good old Nasai? I'm the sacrifice or whatever-the-hell it is." She looks at Nasai dully for a moment, before her eyes warm up tiredly. "So, how bad are the cuts?"
         Nasai simply shakes her head and turns Silence over gently. What she sees, despite herself, makes her heart jerk, but her flesh crawl with lust. [i]Blood, all that blood...[/i] She shakes her head decisively.
         Trembling the whole time, she bandages Silence neatly.
         Murmuring softly, Silence's eyes follow Brock the whole time. Then, as her shirt slips off her shoulder, her eyes look away and focus on a window as Nasai continues her work, but she makes no move to stop the slow falling of her only covering.
         When the cloth is nearly to her waist, Nasai scoffs and snatches it up. Silence only stares into space with the blank un-interest of a dead girl.
         As Nasai's nimble fingers finish pressing the oversize bandage on her back, Brock pulls Silence up as gently as he can but Silence still hisses in pain. Grimacing as she straightens her back, she then hunches over as pain crashes over her in overwhelming waves of agony.
         Brock watches with faint interest, then simply wraps his arms around her knees and shoulders and lifts her like a groom would his newly wedded wife.
         Much to her shame, Silence clings to him in desperation and cries. Still none of the salty raindrops escape her swollen eyes but she no longer needs them to. Burying her face in his neck, the wiry stubble of five o'clock shadow jabbing at her, her arms tighten around his thick neck. Nasai turns away in embarrassment, wishing she is somewhere else.
         Brock waits until Nasai turns then awkwardly holds Silence to his chest. Even though she loathes and fears him, she finds great comfort in his embrace. Caressing her back, making her wince faintly, he brings her more comfort through her now familiar pain.
         Quivering and whimpering in his arms her thin muscles flex and her arms tighten around him as his legs push upwards to lift him up, afraid that he will leave her in her sorrow.
         But no, Brock will never do that to her. No, no, he'll strengthen it until it becomes her wonderful, exotic terror.
         Dragging himself and her up he turns his cool, strangely calm gaze on Nasai.
         "Half breed," Cool, calm, hateful words; "Go away, you're no longer needed here." [i]And you never were. You're worthless to the world. You should be dead.[/i] His gaze is enough to bring Nasai near tears.
         She lets out a sharp breath, glances at him once more, and then whimpers, "Yes, Brock."
         His body swivels easily and he trots out through the pathetic, crumbling doorway. Nasai watches, her eyes swimming with tears, then moves away and sits on the chunk of granite, her brown skirt smearing the blood.
         Brock's raven hair ruffles softly as a hissing, rattling air conditioner's breath whips his face in overlapping waves of warm and cold air. Silence sniffles softly and begins to hiccup as her crying relaxes.
         Brock's footfalls create a hollow, depressing sound against the hard floors. Her soft sobs echo in her ears, sounding more like a hissing snake with her throat roughened from the screaming-a horrible, broken, painful sound.
         As her hiccupping is nearly done she turns her head and lays her cheek against his neck, breathing sharply. Her swollen eyes flutter for a moment as she sees people observing her. She realizes all too quickly that Brock's footsteps have ceased and that it's deathly silent except for her breathing. [i]It's so quiet I can even hear his heartbeat. Pound, pound, pound; it's like we're the only things alive in here. [/i]
         An eerie wailing sound, echoing through the nearly vacant room, catches Silence's attention. The only things in the room (rather than the people, of course) are chains looping and dangling from the ceiling; the chains looped and snagged with others in strange patterns, some of them ending in large, curving hooks, the others ending not at all or in metal cubic objects that look strangely vicious.
         Drains circle the walls and brown spots dot the decaying ceiling. The ceiling is what she pays the most attention to-something stupid and unimportant like this can't cause her fear, right? Yellow-brown stains outline the white, slopping ceiling. Florescent lights glare out in irregular intervals. The chains glitter. A chair, splintery, weak, reflects in a mirror crudely duck taped to the ceiling.
         Then Silence's head turns at the polite applauding of the gathered, graceful audience. Women dressed in their finest dresses-not quite gowns, but not far off-stand at the far end, men in slightly dusted and patched suits with them.
         And then her eyes dance away toward the now vicious wailing coming from a second entrance with a large, nearly dead sigh that read 'Dead End'. [i]Oh, how creative,[/i] she thinks with a scoff and then out comes a crazed woman, her red hair everywhere as she screams and hollers for help.
         Silence stares at the woman's nudity, the woman's body uncovered for everyone's eyes but for a meager collar. Silence face flushes with shame for looking at the woman's vulnerability.
         Then Silence notices the woman has tears streaking through dirt and blood on her face and that the woman's nose is nearly flat against one of her cheeks, swollen and soaked with blood. Watching her anxiously, Silence cries out as Brock sets her feet on the ground. Looking up at him with such fear and helplessness, fear dances in her eyes.
         "Don't leave me, please Brock, just don't leave me," Choking on the words, she pleads with him to stay with her. Looking at her blankly he shakes his head with finality; Silence bites her lip to conceal her sobs.
         Turning away from her, Brock nears the woman. For an instant, just one horrible instant, Silence thinks Brock is going to rape the woman, right before her, right before everyone. But he doesn't, thank god, he doesn't.
         Instead, he grabs the woman's hand and forcefully aims to pry her off of her feet. The woman screams and claws at his face screaming obscenities while begging him with her eyes, much the same as Silence had.
         For a moment Silence ponders why Brock doesn't just lift her up, she knows he can. He did it to her. But the woman fights, and Brock's face just gets redder and redder with anger, yet he doesn't give any real effort to lift her.
         Then, as she claws her hands into his nest of raven black hair, his eyes go mad and he turns on her and punches her in the jaw. Silence lets out a gasp and a sick moan as she sees the woman open her mouth to scream, once pearly white teethe now shattered remains, but instead Brock punches her jaw up. The woman's teethe clank down on her tongue, slicing it right off, her jagged, shattered teethe cutting up her lips. Her eyes go wide and just as she's about to spit out her tongue, Brock raises her up, and slams her against a wall near a cluster of chains.
         Sobbing as she slides down the wall, she spits out her tongue and cries out slurring words that make no sense. Brock, suddenly hit with inspiration, snatches one of the hooked chains from the wall. Snagging the woman's hair in his fist, he jerks her up with it. Without any grace or gentleness-not that you can be gentle in this business-he shoves the hook through the back of the woman's neck. Her eyes bulge as Brock hoists her up on the chain and she thrashes her arms and legs, screaming in utter agony.
         Silence stares in amazement, then turns and throws up, the woman's screams echoing wickedly in her ears. Turning back around, god only knows why she does, she feels the blood sink from her face as she sees Brock with a -her- switchblade in his hand. Watching in fascination as he slices open the woman's gut, she then turns around and throws up again, more of her stomach contents splashing on the concrete floor. And the people are applauding, very politely and pleasantly.
         As the applause slowly begins to die away, the images of the woman's last moments of life dance before her eyes, guilt quivers in her blood, and as she hears the hoarse breath coming from behind her she shrieks in fury, turning around with her claws outstretch and slices Brock's cheek open with them.
         "Murderer!" she cries shrilly, accusing him to be Satan in her voice. "Murderer, murderer, murderer!" screaming and shrieking this, she finally collapses at his feet.
         "Please just kill me," she whispers hoarsely. "Stop the torture, stop the pain, just kill me, please, please Brock just kill me!" She looks up at him hopelessly, tears swimming in her almost-amber eyes. "Please."
         His eyes take her in, her broken spirit waving in his face hatefully. "Not yet," he says slowly, passionately. "Not yet," almost loving; almost. "You have to see what it's like to defy us."
         "No, no! I know, I know! Just please, no more! Take me back there and kill me!" her voice cracks and breaks with sobs. "No more, no more, don't make me, please!"
         Leaning over, he pushes her hair behind her ear and cups his hand to her ear softly, whispering it to her as if to a lover. "Just one more,"
         She looks at him doubtfully. "Only if you stay with me,"
         He looks at her with an inner smile. "Yeah, sure, whatever you want," his smile is charming, secretive-something wonderful.
         Light footsteps come from the 'Dead End' hallway, or whatever it is, and Silences eyes flick that way in an indifferent fashion. Just one more he said, just one. C'mon, Alicia, you can take one more. Her mouth gapes open as she sees who comes from the hallway, their feet whispering freedom on the cement as she's lugged in by her arms.