A single feather

Darya: A Side of Torture

She had never felt such a biting cold. Not when they ran out of firewood in the middle of winter, not when she fell into the half-frozen lake while ice skating. No. This cold was excruciating. It ate her fingertips, slowing her heart rate and sinking deep into her bones until Darya was unsure whether there was anything but ice within her veins. Her body hurt from shivering, so much so that the pain from the sergeant's kicks and punches paled in comparison. Even her wounds had frozen shut. 

 She had begun to think that it would not be the faeries that killed her. It would be the cold.

Darya tried to cradle herself, relying on body warmth that had long since left to keep her warm. She looked down. Her fingers were turning black. Frostbite. How would she sew without fingers? 

She almost laughed at the thought because somehow she knew that she would not be needing to sew again. The dead didn't sell clothing. 

And then, suddenly, she felt a heavy warmth upon her. Relief rushed through her as her body slowly began to defrost. She looked up to see a fur coat had been thrown on her. She immediately recognised it as Avery's.

Avery. She wondered how long he had sat there watching her writhing from cold before he had decided to show her some decency and give her a coat. She did not view this act as generosity. He had done this to her. He had betrayed her. She hated him.

Darya knew that she should use the coat, let its warmth save her, or at least lessen her struggle. But what difference would it make anyway? Tomorrow would just be more torture. Rather die with dignity. Not with the coat of your betrayer on your back. 

And so with her last remaining strength, Darya pushed the coat off of her, wincing as the cold sank back into her skin. She then looked up at Avery, saw the look of shock on his face. Whether he was shocked by her indignation or her stupidity, she did not care. She had not given him the satisfaction of helping her. Darya smiled a triumphant smile, looking Avery directly in the eyes. She wanted nothing from him. She wanted him to know that. To know that she would rather die than accept his kindness. Then she curled up in a ball, closed her eyes, and lost consciousness. ________________________________________________________________________________

Pain. Darya woke up to paralysing pain as a metal boot made contact with her already bruised rib.

"Get up." 

Darya tried to sit up, wincing with every movement. She took several shallow, quick breaths trying to get in oxygen without puncturing a lung. Every breath hurt. Now that it was daytime, and the cold from the previous night had subsided, the pain from her injuries had returned and increased tenfold. Darya realised that someone had put the coat back on her after she had lost consciousness the previous night. She quickly shook it off her, almost angry at herself for not being awake to remove it. She looked to find Avery, however, he was not there.

"It seems Avery showed you some kindness last night." It was the sergeant from the previous night. He laughed sardonically. "Do not get used to it."

Light burst through the trees, gently reflecting off the layer of white snow covering the ground to form a golden halo. It was beautiful. It almost looked like heaven. Perhaps it was an omen for what awaited Darya.

The sergeant turned to face the soldiers behind him. "James, have you checked the truth spell?"

A young, timid-looking soldier stepped forward. "Yes sir. It is in working order and cannot be broken." 

"Wonderful and have you removed all other spells that could be counteracting it?" 

"Yes sir," James replied proudly.

James looked at Darya's bruised and bloody face before quickly looking away. It was clear he did not like being a part of this. Darya wanted him to see the pain they had caused her. To feel guilt. To hate himself.

Then the sergeant turned back to face Darya, however, Darya saw no empathy in his eyes. No. They were stone cold, almost gleeful. He felt joy at the prospect of torturing her. "Now, where were we yesterday? Oh yes. Where is the sorceress?"

"I don't know," Darya replied tiredly. "Why won't anyone believe me? I don't know. My answer has not changed because it cannot change."

The sergeant paused for a moment. "James. You're certain the truth spell is working?"

"Yes sir," James replied, still refusing to look Darya in the eyes. "Baine also checked the spell and we added extra protective seals. She is telling the truth."

The sergeant sighed. "Alright."

Then he suddenly kicked Darya so that she fell backward and smashed her head against the rough bark of the tree. She didn't need to feel the back of her head to realise that it was bleeding. The sergeanr had no reason to hurt her, other than the fact that he had wanted to. 

"Sadist." Darya spat before she could stop herself. She was so done with being tortured. It was strange. She had woken up with a new resilience that had not been present the previous day. Perhaps it was because she knew that if the faeries were to do worse, chances are that she would not survive. And so, she may as well show them her hatred before they killed her. That being said, no torture spells had been used on her just yet. She doubted her bravery would last when the spells started.

The sergeant looked at her surprised. "Excuse me?"

Darya instantly knew she had made a mistake. Instantly wished that she could take those simple two words back. Instantly lost her previous courage. Screw bravery and any thoughts of dignity. She did not want the pain. What was the point of false bravado?

 Luckily, she didn't have to reply to the sergeant because before she could utter another word the sergeant had slammed her head into the ground. He held her down, placing pressure on her skull until Darya thought it would crack. Once satisfied, he lifted Darya's head up again and slammed it down harder. Again. And again. And again.

Darya's vision blurred, her brain no longer even sensing the pain. She just saw shapes and lights and movement. It was almost beautiful. And then her head would hit the ground and everything would come rushing back.

"Sir, you're going to kill her. We need her alive." It was James.

"Alright." The sergeant replied, dropping Darya's head onto the ground. He stood up from where he was perched and kicked her in the stomach one last time. "Never insult me again."

Darya could not even reply. Her mouth was filled with too much blood. 

"Next question." The sergeant began.

To Darya, the prospect of death suddenly felt rather appealing.