The Age of the Concubine
Chapter 1: Pain
A rat skitters somewhere nearby. The rough stone beneath her body hurts, her flesh gone cold in the damp. She knows she has bad sores, she knows she smells rancid. She doesn't care.
The light in her cell is dim. There are two small windows, one too high for her to see out, which lets in some sun during the day, the other the one her jailers like to peer through.
She shifts, trying to find some way to lie still that doesn't make her body ache, but nothing seems to work.
She is so cold. Her teeth begin to chatter.
They hurt.
Eating the hard, stale bread they give her ripped a few of her teeth out last week, so now she soaks it in the small cup of water they give her. Then she can swallow it without chewing.
Outside she can hear the crashing of violent waves. And inside she hears cries of pain.
She gazes at the small bucket in the corner of the room, the one she uses to go toilet. It's full, with hard stool and piss. She thinks, and wonders if it's worth trying to drown herself in it. She wonders if it's possible to make yourself stop breathing.
She is so tired.
And so sore.
She tries to stop breathing. It doesn't work.
She feels the rat nibbling at her toe. If she wasn't numb she might have felt more. It probably would have hurt.
But she doesn't care.
Hermione just tries to go back to sleep.
It's easier to sleep than think. Thinking always makes her sad.
"Wake up you slut!" The rat-faced man that paced up and down the cell corridors during the night barked at her. For some reason all she could focus on was how yellow and wonky his teeth were. He should really see a dentist.
Her door slammed open and Hermione tried to lift herself off the floor with shaky, thin arms. He stormed in and hauled her to his feet, her cell door clanging open unpleasantly. Her ears were ringing, she looked up at the man. She felt foggy and uncertain, unsure if he was going to rape her. It was either that or force her to empty her shit bucket. They didn't normally touch her when they wanted her to do that though.
She wanted to scream and fight. When they did that other thing, she wanted to die. She wanted to peel her skin from her flesh and forget what living even was.
As vivid memories of them pulling out and cumming on her back ran rampant through her mind, all she could do was let a single tear drip from her crusty eyes.
"Mustn't make you pregnant," they'd always say, "Filthy little mudblood."
In the beginning she'd cried and cried, because they were so stupid they didn't realise they could have made her pregnant anyway. Fucking stupid fucking purebloods don't even know the basics of fucking anatomy. Fuck.
They didn't know anything. She felt dirty.
She felt close to death right now. She knew one of her sores had gone fetid, the oozing pus making her sick every time she looked at her thigh.
"You're coming with me." He said, shoving her towards and door and expecting her to somehow stay up right. She collapsed in a heap and knew, knew, there was no way she was walking anywhere. Her muscles had finally been eaten away to the point they couldn't hold her up. She was going to die.
She felt relieved at the thought.
"Didn't you hear me whore?" The guard screamed at her, and she watched morbidly curious as the spittle flew from his mouth to land on her face.
"You really should see a dentist." Was all she could think to say, before she felt darkness swallow her up.
Death had come for her, and she was ready to walk into his embrace.
Author's Note: Welcome to my new story, it is dark and it is heavy. I am on a roll at the moment, I've written a lot. My characters are going to be volatile and interesting, and I hope you enjoy. I own nothing, and am just playing in anothers sandpit.
Reviews are my fuel, should you wish to push me onwards!
- Love, Sister