My Protector

Chapter 42

Nearly frozen water is thrown on me, the freezing mixture mixed with salt, burning the open wounds. A gasping groan slips from my lips pitifully; the sound is more familiar with a weak wheeze. "Maybe she's finally learned... Princesses aren't heard... but seen." A fist grabs my matted hair, pulling my head back painfully. I wince as a fire crawls across my scalp, from more than just the hand. The gag in my mouth has locked my jaw open uncomfortably. I feel like a dog.

My dislocated shoulder screams in agony as I'm moved, pushed back into my arms that have been extended behind me, chained to the wall. I guess they got tired of me kicking them. I've been forced to kneel for sometime. However much time has passed... The days and nights have blended, I'm no longer able to tell them apart. It's all the same. A blade is waved in front of my eyes, as if teasing me, the shining metal glinting in the luminescent lighting, taunts me.

The large metal hunting skinning knife, the hook on the end looking daunting as it glints. As if this can't get any worse. "How many signatures have you left?" Magcon taunts me, Thrasher's hand tightens painfully in my hair making me close my eyes, fighting the groan that wants to leave my lips. Don't let them win! I don't want them to win, I hate letting them win, letting them know just how truly weak I am. Stop letting them walk over you all the time, stop being weak.

The knife teases the gag, brushing against it forcing my eyes open to watch the glinting object as it nears my chin. Don't flinch, just don't move. Flinching gives them what they want, I can't do that anymore, giving into their game, might as well be putting a bullet between my eyes. They won't let me get away again. "What do you boys think? Some more signatures?" Magcon sneers at me. Thrasher chuckles as he moved to crouch in front of me, the black vest, marred with age and grime.

And to think they're supposed to keep their cuts in pristine condition. The thought makes me want to laugh, to spit in their faces more like it. Ages ago those leather cuts used to look semi pristine, somewhat kept anyway. Now the soft shine is gone, long gone, worn down by blood and dirt, the lack of care driving them in a state of decay. The rigid blade cuts into my thigh making me wince as I'm shocked back to reality, to face the harsh amused glare. "Wake up Princess." He belittled, making my eyes narrow.

His foul breath drifts over my face at his nearness, making me jerk my head, to snap it forward, connecting with his nose, the crunch that greets me is pleasurable. Maybe I'm growing as monstrous as them, or maybe, I just have a nerve to fight. Magcon releases a sharp, jarr worthy howl of pain, his hand releases the blade, leaving it buried in my thigh as he clutches his nose. Bright red blood trickles from between his scrawny fingers, the gaps allow clear and easy passage for the slick liquid. "You bitch!" Don't back down.

The simple mantra is broken by a pain that fired across my cheek, the sharp blaze of fire wasn't nearly as surprising as it had been when I first got here. I'm getting used to the pain again... Is that good or bad? I don't know anymore, the simple fact is, I'm accepting the pain, to use it as a lifeline; as an only hope to stay alive. To know I'm alive anymore. "You never learn do you? All this time training and you still think that we'll let you win? That we'll let you go? No, you're our bitch, our whore that's going to stay here, to breath your last breath. You belong to us. We own you."

I refuse to believe them. To accept that this is where I'll die. I can't lose hope now. My head is grasped with two fists, holding my head still as a knee is driven into my nose, retribution. I'm unable to hold in the scream, the agonized cry muffled by the gag. The pain stricken sound drowned by cruel laughter, the laughter of maniacs as they find pleasure in the blood covering the drool covered gag, the metallic liquid mixing disgustingly. The fowl taste makes me gag, only worsening my predicament.