Rouge Assassin.

Unruly stranger

The small light that hung from the ceiling flicked a faint glow around the room. The room she had searched many times for a sign of escape. The room she was thrown in was small and made completely of large grey bricks. She imagined the same used in prison cells. 

The walls around her had, what looked to be dried blood splattered on them, but with this lighting there was very little you could see. It was night time now and the only other source of light was a 30cm x 30cm barred window that was on the right side of the small room. She had thought about escaping through it, but it was too high up for even the tallest of people to reach.

On the ground in the corner was a small pile of dirty hay, very rarely she got to lay in that pile and get a restless, cold sleep. Tonight was not one of those nights.

On the other side of the room sat a table with a creaky chair next to it. The table had a metal plate with moulding scraps on it, scraps that were supposed to be her last meal.

The table also sat a small pot of water on it. She eyed the water through her hair and licked her dry cracked lips, she longed for the dampness of the water to slide down her throat.

The room smelt of a rank combination of feces and rotting meat. Mainly because the only place she had to go to do her business was the ground underneath her. When she wasn't pinned up on the wall, there was a small bucket that she was meant to excrete into. The bucket was overflowing so she refused to use it.






There was a rattle of keys outside her room and she knew the men were about to enter and question her again. She wiggled in her chains, wanting to be free of them. She knew her arms wouldn't come loose, but she tried anyway. The noise of the chains against the wall made one of the men snicker a horrible laugh.

'She's at it again,' a gruff voice spoke, stifling his laugher.

'She's stubborn this one,' a smaller voice piped up 'She takes her beatings much quieter than the others I've heard,'

'Maybe today I might make her scream.'

The girl cringed as the wooden door swung open, banged against the solid wall and rebounded. The two men stomped in, largest man first, the smaller close behind.

'Lock the door you fool!' The larger spat at the smaller, the smaller guy fumbled with the keys dropping them twice before he successfully locked the door. He sighed as he shoved the group of keys in his pocket and waddled over to the other mans side. The larger shook his head in annoyance.

'Sorry.' The smaller man sarcastically huffed as he handed a small sack over to the other. She knew what was in this sack; she had seen it many times before.

The large man pulled torture items out of the sack and placed them in a neat row on the small table. He had brought new weapons this time. She eyed the new weapons, surprised he had managed to get his hands on this many types of knives and whips.

She glanced over to the smaller guy who looked almost as though he was going to faint. She had never seen this man before. The other man that normally came was broader then the large fellow unloading the sack, he was also much more intimidating. The small guy caught her looking and took a few paces back.

The larger man noticed and slapped her across the face as he turned.

'Two, get over here,' He called to the cowering man. He was clearly 'Number One' and the smaller 'Number Two'. She smiled at the immaturity of her mind relating them to toilet usage and received another slap so hard it made her head turn, 'What are you smiling at, bitch?' Number One spat acidy.

When she refused to answer and spat what was left of her saliva in One's face, he slapped her face continuously until her cheeks purpled and were swollen enough to cover her eyes. Number Two was now at his side but he looked away as Number One abused the girl.

Number One asked many questions, receiving no responses. Each unanswered question ended with a new wound on the girl's small frame, either by cut or whip.

He got Number Two to fetch his items for him like a pet. Number Two listened without hesitation. Although he tested Ones patience when he asked Two to assist in the torture but rejected the request.






After many hours of torture and much blood spilled; Number One decided to give up, he kneed the girl in the stomach before demanding the keys and leaving flustered. Before he disappeared down the hallway he threw the keys angrily at Number Two, he left in a loud, stomping rage.

Number Two looked at the girl, her head hung in pain, he looked at her new wounds knowing they would scar. Automatically he fingered an old scar on his neck, he remembered how he got his, and his muscles hardened, he found it hard to move over to the items on the table. Once he gained control again he packed the knives into the sack, he remembered a cloth he placed in the bottom so before he closed the sack he grabbed out the cloth and dipped it in some water. He made his way toward the girl, knowing she would be frightened, he moved slow. Her head rose when she saw him moving toward her.

'I'm not going to hurt you,' He whispered as he extended his arm toward her slowly trying to wipe away the blood from the corner of her split mouth. She recoiled, unused to the gentle contact she began to struggle in her chains again. A small sob escaped her mouth, she couldn't understand what he wanted. Number Two stood back feeling sick to the stomach at the condition of the girl. There was barely any unwound-ed part of her. 'Please, let me help you...' His deep voice broke on the last word, his finger found its way back to his scar.

She eyeballed him then glanced over to the water. His eyes followed to the pot on the table. He knew this was her giving him a chance and moved quickly, he grabbed it for her, moving it toward her mouth he spoke kindly, 'Small mouthfuls or it will come back up.' She complied. After a few minutes, he moved the pot away. Her mouth was parted in satisfaction. He placed the pot on the table and moved back to her.

'I'm going to clean your wounds now,' He looked her right in the eyes, she flinched at the contact but allowed him to tend to her wounds. Once she was cleaner he grabbed the keys out of his pocket. 'I want to let you down for tonight so you can rest. If you try and escape I'm afraid I will have to harm you, please don't make me do that.' He searched her eyes for signs of betrayal. She nodded knowing she was too weak to fight.

He hesitated at first, but when she didn't attack him with her feet, he continued. The girl fell to her knees and grabbed her wrists rubbing them lightly. The flesh on her wrists were torn, as was the flesh around her ankles.

The man gently heaved her upward and helped her toward the hay. Placing her on her side he stood back and dug in his pockets some more. He looked at her once more before flinging the sack over his shoulder and leaving the room and locking the door.

She curled into a small ball. She was worried he had set her up, or was going to come back and torture her once she was asleep but those thoughts died as she entered her first undisturbed sleep in days.