Dangerous Vows (World Collisions) [#2]

The Demon that Whisper Prayers

One.

It feels numb, but I can feel it opening new wounds, wounds that would've healed by now if they weren't being reopened.

Two.

The pain starts to really come through and I clench my fists tightly as I grit my teeth.

Three.

I let out a grunt in pain and as I could feel sweat start to form on my forehead and I wanted it all to stop, but I didn't say a thing. I didn't move an inch. All I could do was hope. Hope that the pain would soon be over and the torture would never happen again.

Four.

The breaking point was different for everyone, even if they were feeling the same pain. So, corpses lay still and I still sit in position, just hoping. All I could do was hope to die a quick death.

Five.

One Hundred bodies down, five more to go. That's all they ever think.

Six.

I let out a gasp of air as I closed my eyes tightly and a scream was building in my throat.

Seven.

I let out the scream and I slump down as I move my hands around onto my shoulders and I cry. I let my tears stream down my face to the floor and I didn't care, I didn't care.

"You did a good job today, Bex." A harsh cold hand presses down on my shoulder and I bite my lip to stop myself from letting out a loose sob and to hide away the pain from my tormentor. I hide it all away as I hope that someday I could find a way out.

The hand removes itself from me and I feel dirty, I feel disgusting. I could hear dead bodies being thrown to the adding pile and I could hear the shuffling feet of those who endured today's punishments. I heard it all and all I did was be one of the zombies. The rules were that simple.

Don't speak. Don't disobey. Do as told.

And the most impost rule:

Don't. Fall. In. Love.

The rules were simple. They were easy to follow, so I followed them like a blind dog and moved around like that of a zombie. Everything was simple.

One of the tormentors sneered at me as they grabbed my arm and harshly yanked me to my feet. I grunt in protest as I keep my eyes lowered down to the ground and I follow the other shuffling footsteps. We were all shuffling to our deaths, to our tormentors, but that didn't stop us. We were used to it after all. It's the only life we knew.

In a way that made us cattle.

But, I hoped, nay, I prayed for all of us to be free, to find our own happiness, to never experience death. I knew it was useless though, I knew it was hopeless to pray for those things. So, I prayed for something different, for something selfish.

I could only hope that God would hear my prayers and save me.

A door slammed behind me as the group and I were now in a dark, dingy, room. It was all cement, or what looks to be cement. But, reality is; it's not cement, it's something to keep us hidden, to keep us obedient, to keep us trapped and feel self hatred. It is our cage.

Murmurs and grunts could be heard as the rest of the group sat themselves onto the hard, unforgiving, floor and they helped themselves in repairing their injuries or they helped others repair themselves. Some made talk here and there, but that didn't stop us form hating one another. After all, the fewer there are of us the more there is a chance of ending our pain. We will finally be free, we will finally be something to this society.

I don't hope for that day.

I want to be free long beforehand, I want a savior to take me out of this place and I don't care if I have to kill people and climb over those bodies. I just wanted freedom.

So, I find an area in the room far from the others and I get on my knees as I start to pray. I pray that my savior will be here soon, I pray for my suffering to end. I pray for someone to love me and cherish me. I prayed for a happy life.

A life I knew I didn't deserve, a life that was far out of reach, I prayed for it all. I prayed for everything, but for the others.

The others were on their own. They were selfish, they were heartless. They poisoned each other so there would be less of us, so they could have a way out of this life. They would kill one another, they would let one die if they were to be diseased. They had no morals, they had no standards. These people were not meant to become people who would serve Lucifer.

They weren't worthy of it.

They plan to kill us either way. No one will survive, no one will leave this place alive. Everyone will die and perish. I don't plan to be one of those people though. I don't plan to serve Lucifer either.

I stop for a moment as I close my eyes and I hear a voice in my head asking, 'why don't you want to serve Lucifer?' I gulp as I fling my eyes open and I look around me. The others weren't close enough around me.

What would they think if they knew I heard a voice in my head?

I knew the answer already and my heart fell to my stomach as I knew if they knew about the voice I was hearing then I would be their next victim, I would be a corpse to be found in this room.

'I WILL NOT ALLOW THAT!'

The voice in my head sounded angry and of course it would. It was a part of me and if I died, then so would it. I sigh as I slump in my spot and I look down at the dirty ground. It was so dirty, so dingy, it was ugly; just like me.

I wanted to cry at my mere thoughts, but I held fast and held in the tears as a stinging sensation could be felt. The dam was so close to breaking and the warmth that was once in my heart felt cold and bitter. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, but I held it all in.

'I will always be there for you.'

Of course you would, who else would be? You were just something that my mind made up to keep me company.

I curled my hands into fists and I looked to the ceiling, exhausted.

Tomorrow would be a different day and hopefully my prayers would be answered.

I closed my eyes and I let slumber take over me as I slept on my knees and my back hunched over. It was an uncomfortable position to be sleeping in, but in this way it was useful. It was easy to be alert if your body never found any comfort.

And I found comfort in that.

Third P.O.V: The Watcher caresses a photo as it lays in a locket and a sound of a portal tearing itself into the reality that the Watcher is in. The Watcher quickly flees the scene as the locket they were holding falls to the ground and the hooded figure bends down and picks it up as the shadowy figure and his campaign shortly follows. They all watch after the Watcher in silence and judgement.