𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘴 ~ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight:
Coffee Shop
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

trigger warning: graphic violence, racism

Screams ripped from Ramona's throat as the brand burned her skin. "Stop! Stop it! Don't fucking touch me! Don't fucking touch me!"

The soldier's eyes flickered up to her, a sick grin forming on his lips as he dug the scalding hot iron tool deeper into her hip.  "I thought our talk about... what's the word? Ah, yes, respect, had gotten to you. Sadly, no."

"Please!" Ramona cried, her throat burning as she struggled against the restraints digging into her wrists. "¡Déjame ir! ¡Déjame ir!"

Tears streamed down her face involuntarily. If she could, she wouldn't react at all. She wouldn't give those soldiers what they wanted. But she couldn't. She was just a kid. She wasn't cut out for this... She was just a kid. "Please.."

Ramona's voice was weak and shaky, barely above a whisper as she let her head fall back, hitting the cold metal table. She squeezed her eyes shut

"Are you going to speak yet?" The general loomed over Ramona's face, a smirk plastered on his face. "Who do you work for?"

A whimper left Ramona's lips as she shook her head. Anger flashed through the man's eyes as he looked up, spitting something in Russian to the man holding the branding iron.

"We will see how long this disrespect lasts, yes?" He spoke, an evil glint in his eyes as he stood. Panic shot through Ramona's heart as they spoke in a language she couldn't understand.

Her heart stopped in her chest as her eyes landed on the torture device she'd only seen in horror movies. Ramona's blood ran cold as panic took over her body. Sobs and pleads to let her go fell from her lips as she pulled at the restraints, trying to form her hand into a fist to avoid the pure agony she was on the verge of being put through.

"Please.." Ramona whimpered as he stuck the needle of the device under her nail, "Don't."

"We could free you. Feed you, we have doctors. Very good doctors." The general listed off, "If you tell us... who you work for."

"I work at a coffee shop! No, no, please, do-" She cut herself off with a scream as the feeling of her nail being ripped from her finger spread through her hand.

Her eyes drooped and her groans and screams stopped as she fell unconscious. The general scoffed, muttering 'weak bitch' in Russian under his breath. "Wake her up."

~~

A blank expression plastered onto Ramona's face as her eyes focused on the hellish creature chasing after the car.

The ringing in her ears drowned out any other sound trying to force its way through. The world around her became muffled as she zoned out on the creature, staring emotionlessly as she brought her knees up to her chest.

Her throat felt dry and scratchy, begging for water to quench her thirst. Her stomach rumbled, but food was the last thought on her mind. Survival instincts had kicked in, and even if she didn't know when, she knew there was no turning them off anytime soon.

The adrenaline pumping through her veins began to fade away, being replaced with the dull aching pains from her whole body. Not that she'd even acknowledge what she'd gone through tonight. She didn't even want to think about it. It didn't even feel real to her, and part of her thought that the whole experience was just one bad dream that she would wake up from.