The Last Lieutenant

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She's gotten used to screams.

(Sort of.  Not really.  More like she's learned to ignore it, the way that they climb and take up more space in this little cement and stone room than any sound had the right to, how they never truly disappear, just echo, rebound and rebound and rebound until it is all she can hear, even in her sleep.)

It's louder than she ever thought one little noise could be, especially at the end.  She thought that as time went on and they broke down, started to give in, that they would get quieter, softer, slower, but they don't- it's like every part of them wants to hang onto the last bit of life they can wrench out of their body, no matter how bad it hurts.

(They scream the most at the end, like they are trying to make someone pay attention, like if they make enough noise their names will not fade into oblivion.  Everyone had taught her that death was gentle, like sinking into sleep or falling into the arms of a friend you had forgotten that you had, but that wasn't true- death was a menace.  It was blood and guts and pain, pale skin and trembling lips and the color red staining the cracks in your teeth, the life being wrenched from your skin and thrown onto the floor with a splat, violent and terrible and nothing like falling back into the cover of quiet.)

Audra spends a lot of her time in the basement now, making these screams spin out into the air like they're signs of a job done right, like she was collecting check marks for her to-do list.  Like if they were louder enough, harsh enough, shrill enough, she could exchange them all for a gold star, like she used to be able to do in Flitwick's class when she passed all her spell checks.   She's become quite good at it.

(But she always good, even when she was hanging back.  Everyone on this earth has a knack for causing other people pain, even when they try their best to rage against it.  It's more like she's gotten good at everything else that comes with it- laughing when they beg, smiling instead of flinching, turning away instead of giving that last gift of mercy when it is clear that they cannot take anymore.   She is bleeding away her humanity, scream by scream by scream, and soon there will be nothing left.)

"You've done so good for me,"  He says, and it is sick, how easy it is for her to accept that, like this is a badge of honor instead of a mark of shame.  The Audra that she can remember being would want to recoil, but this one, the one who comes to dinner with someone else's blood still lining the cracks of her palms, does not know how to be ashamed of finally becoming strong.   "You're not going to go on to disappoint me, will you?"

His hand slips down to nestle under her jaw, tilting her face upward so she has no choice to look him in the eyes.  Audra still feels herself shaking under his touch, because he is a terrible thing, a horrible thing- elongated fingers, too-tight skin, red eyes, two slits for a nose and teeth that flash like he's considering whether or not to bite- but she does not shy away, just lets herself be moved like a puppet, her hair falling back from her face in a river of curls.

She is on her knees on the carpet, back to the fire.  The others are all in masks, ringing around them in a half circle, and one by one they would be called to face him, would bow before him like he's some sort of god and not just a twisted shadow of what used to pass for a man.

Maybe he is a god, she thinks, because even her thoughts seem to be tinged with blasphemy now.  It takes a god to create pain like this.  To have power like he does.

"Never."  Her voice cracks on the first try, and Audra feels herself sink a little, resting in his hands.  "Never, my Lord."

The shift was slow and silent, where she went from a teenage rebel to someone that was actively taking part in the Dark Lord's plans, pushing him further towards success without even realizing when it happened.  Audra hadn't meant to- it was just that he would ask for more and more and more even when she had nothing left to give, and this is not a life where she had the option to say no.