The Saints' Devil

XXXVI

Charlie's screams of pain rang in Frank's ears, echoing in his mind, louder than the screams of his demons. It was painful, the most painful experience and he didn't even have a single scratch on him. Charlie, however, was being carved, just as Fury had said he'd do. 

Blood had pooled underneath her from the deep cuts Fury was inflicting upon her. After making a cut, he'd go back and dig a sharp tool into it, forcing more and more blood to pool out and horrible yells of pain to erupt from her lips. She was quivering, her arms shaking profusely against the restraints, her head down for most of the time until she threw it back to shout in pain.

Frank sat there and watched in misery as the one thing that gave him a reason to live was being tormented. Frank never once stopped fighting against his restraints. More men constantly had to come in to hold his chair back, making him sit through this torment with no way of stopping it. 

"You fucking bastard!" Frank shouted, jerking roughly, causing the men holding him back to strain even harder than they were before. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

Fury laughed horribly. "Oh, I bet all you want to do right now is tear me apart," he said, Charlie's blood covering his hands. 

"You disgusting fucking rat," Frank seethed. "How can you do this shit to your own fucking sister."

"Very easy, actually," he began, grabbing another sharp took and slashing her arm, Charlie wincing in pain. Frank jerked every single time she winced or screamed, as if he felt her pain multiplied by a thousand. "You see, how can I be attached to someone who was never even around for the majority of my life? Just because we've got some kind of blood bond does not mean I am incapable of torturing her or--even--killing her."

"You won't get the fucking chance."

"Well," Fury said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don't think she can take much more. I mean, how long has it been? Six hours? Eight? She's probably wishing she was dead."

Frank's jaw clenched. 

"She's probably wishing she never got involved with you. She's probably thinking it was a mistake to fall in love with you," Fury said, his words hitting Frank deep. "I mean, look at this. Her suffering is because of you, right now."

"Shut your fucking mouth," Charlie spoke, her voice raspy and cracking. Her head tilted back as she looked up at Fury. "You don't know a fucking thing. I'd die a hundred times for Frank before I ever called you my brother again." Fury's face flashed with rage and he suddenly pressed the tool against her exposed throat, but Charlie didn't once flinch. Frank, however, jerked again at Fury's sudden movements, constantly on the edge of his seat. "What are you waiting for, Fury?" Charlie questioned. "You think mom would want this? I never knew you were so weak minded that our fathers power-hungry words would persuade you."

"Shut your fucking mouth before I cut your tongue off," He threatened, but Charlie continued to look him in the eye. 

"I'm sorry, was torturing me feeding your superiority complex?" Charlie questioned, her voice lowering. Fury was becoming visibly uncomfortable, sweat beaded on his forehead and his eyes darted back and fourth to her right eye then her left. "I think you're moving to far ahead of schedule, will dad appreciate this?"

Fury suddenly let her go, her head falling. He threw the tool at the wall and left the room, his men who were holding Frank back following close behind him. Once the door shut Frank scooted his chair over to her, nudging her head with his own. 

"Charlie," he called quietly, his voice deep and comforting. She weakly lifted her head, her eyes struggling to stay open and to focus on him. She smiled at him, his heart twisting with pain. "How can you smile like that?"