~18~ Cutting Edge

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TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains blood, violence, and torture

Kate's POV:

Unknown, Unknown 11/??/2004

His words still echo in my ears when the door is closed behind him. What did my mother have to do with any of this? She could've never done something like this! She might've been cold and demanding but she always made sure I was safe, always took care of me. Even if she couldn't tell me, she made sure that I knew I was loved. She wasn't capable of something like this, right?

I knew the time to question my life had run out when the key was turned inside the lock and I came face to face with the actuality that I am now alone with a woman aiming to hurt me. A torturer ordered to break me apart.

But nothing happens. Nothing. Not a word is spoken, not a move is made. The only noise left is the squeaking sound of links in my chain rubbing against one another since I'm still slightly swinging. The longer she makes me wait, the more revolting become the pictures in my head. The imagination of what she will do to me takes me down an increasingly hopeless path of possible scenarios. From broken bones, to burn marks and lost fingers, toes, or tongues.

No amount of imagination could've prepared me for the pain I feel when a sharp object is slowly dragged along the backside of my thigh until it reaches the spot right above the back of my knee. I try to wiggle out of the grip that my torturer had on my leg but fail to even loosen it slightly. The blunt tip slowly presses its way into my skin. Tears fill my eyes as I ache under the pain that the pressure of the knife -or whatever it may be - on my skin causes. With a sudden and subtle increase of pressure, my skin splits apart and my tears start running at about the same pace as the blade runs down my leg, through the back of my knee down my calf. It's not a deep cut but I can feel my body heat leave through the open, burning wound while I breathe heavily to keep some sort of calm.

Through the breaks between my breaths, I can hear how my torturer puts down the tool she just used on me. Then the silence settles back in. Nothing happens. Minute after minute I hang there in pain from my hands, shoulders, ribs, and now from my left leg. Minutes of anxiousness that something might happen when I just let myself drift away from all of this for just a second. Moments of dreading what will happen the next time she has picked a weapon for me.

Her movement is quiet and so naturally I don't hear her sneaking closer to me. I only realize it when she is close enough to my legs and back for me to feel her body heat on my cold skin. I can see her arms reach around my leg from opposite sides. Her right arm keeps my leg under control while her other hand rubs along my thigh in a motion that I recognize only after she lets go of me and turned away. I used the same motion every time I tried to find blood vessels in my mother's arm. That's when it dawns on me what her next step will be. Her right arm wraps around my leg again but this time I don't hold still. I try to yank my leg up into the air with every ounce of strength that is left in my muscles. But the small woman demonstrates an unexpected amount of strength when she withstands the pull and instead keeps my leg almost perfectly in place.

She must've expected me to give it another try because without hesitation she rams a knife, with a still bloody blade into the front of my thigh and pulls it along the slightly blue line under my skin.

Blood starts spattering out of the wound's entry point, where the torturer has purposefully cut into the femoral artery. The knife gets pulled out from the right side of the kneecap, leaving an aslant incision. Blood drops to the ground and a small puddle starts building.

The pain the knife causes this deep inside my muscle is unbearable and I can't keep it inside any longer. I scream the pain out of my system. I screech for as long as my breath lasts and pant when I stop. I try to catch my breath but the longer I try, the heavier my breath gets and my world starts spinning. I look down at what the woman left behind on my body but when I do, I wish I never did. Blood. It's everywhere. Dark, warm, red blood covers my leg and keeps running down until it drips down to the floor. There's blood everywhere. Blood...dark...red...warm...blood. My blood. My eyes shut close as I lose consciousness.

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A bucket full of freezing cold water washes over me and rips me out of my safe, sweet unconsciousness. Panting my head shoots up and I look around the room. Just the small figure of my torturer stands before me with a now empty bucket. I see her eyes wander away from my face, which seems to be less important than something else on my lower body. I follow her eyes to my thigh and slowly but surely the memory of who knows how long ago comes back to my consciousness. A bandage is wrapped tightly around my thigh. It's a little bit soaked from the water that ran over me but there are barely any blood stains on it. I try to lift my head again but I'm having a hard time getting it back up. Never in my life has my head felt this heavy. Never has the necessary amount of breathing felt this exhausting.

I watch as her feet walk past my right side and hear her rumbling in the back. I hear a noise that if I heard it in fifty years I would still think back to this day. The sound of someone trying to plug in a charger. Tiered I prepared myself for what was coming next.

The cold metal teeth bite me right where they probably left their mark already and the shockwave runs through my body. My body cramps but my mind stays present. Too tired to care about the pain in my body all I could think of was the warm embrace of my mother. The way she sat behind me and held me when I couldn't sleep because I kept coughing. The way her hand carefully brushed strains of hair out of my face while the other held me. The way I could hear her heart beat inside her chest when my head was resting on it. And the way I looked up into her caring blue eyes and saw the love she felt for me.

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Thank you so much for waiting for and reading this chapter

It means a lot to me, it really does :)

~1170~

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