She didn't know how she got there. She didn't recognize anyone's voices, and the sigil on her forehead burned so much it was hard to see. All Petra knew was that they hunted her down; They must have tracked her for months. They learned her daily patterns and habits and that is how they captured her. It happened so fast that she didn't even have time to fight back... Petra, a powerful Demon, couldn't defend herself from what sounded like maybe five or six men.
After what felt like days she stopped trying to free herself from the tight restraints that held her barely suspended in the air- really just enough to stretch out her body and make it difficult to gather enough strength to wrangle free. Her wrists were raw and bloodied, and if she struggled any more she may have torn the skin right from her bones. So she stopped, she gave up hope, and she hung there limp and defeated, trying not to exhaust too much energy. Trying not to focus on the constant pain of the repressing sigil on her face.
If only she could wipe it off... Petra thought frequently. If she could, she'd have killed all of them by now. She imagined killing them all, one by one. She gave her day dreams great detail, so to give her any ounce of hope she could muster up.
"We'll move her in the morning." Petra's head perked up. This was the first voice she'd heard in, well... time seemed to have blended together. It was the first voice she'd heard in a very long time.
"OK Boss." Another voice replied.
"Can't we have some fun with her first?" Another voice, this one sounding mischievous and dirty.
"Hah-hah." The first voice chimed "Ya sure. Why the fuck not?"
Suddenly a rough hand touched Petra's thigh and all at once her body seemed to shrivel back from the touch and the pain that radiated from her forehead and wrists didn't matter any more.
"Don't fucking touch me..." She hissed, her body contorting so he legs were raised in the air, kicking for any sort of self defense she could provide for herself.
"Get her legs!" The dirty one growled. As commanded, Petra felt two arms tightly wrap around her calves and begin to pull down. Their weight ripping at the skin that was hardly left on her wrists. Blood began to rush down her arms, puddling at the ashe blonde hair that sat at her shoulders in knots.
"Get the fuck off of me!" She growled again, this time followed by a blood curdling scream. The dirty one was close to her face now, he didn't speak, but she knew it was him. He was getting off to her struggle, to her screams of terror and anguish.
"You sick fuck!" She screamed again, her torso wrangling and writhing with every ounce of energy she had left. Tears began to pool at her lower lid, escaping her pitch black eyes between her numerous eye lashes.
Petra felt the hand caress her thigh again, the soft touch sent a sick feeling to her stomach. It was followed by a loud crack and then intense, burning pain which radiated from the outside of her right thigh to the outside of the other. The man had whipped her with something hard and thin, a piece of metal maybe. She screamed in pain as blood bubbled at the new wound then streamed down her legs to the floor.
"Give me a turn." One said, which was promptly followed by another lash across her thighs.
"I will kill all of you. You will all die." She hissed, tears dripping into her mouth as she continued to bark apparently hollow threats.
The men were laughing, and as they each stepped up and whipped her, she could smell booze on their breath. She knew this torture fest would quickly turn into something even more abusive, and Petra braced herself for the unstoppable humiliation.
Time went by in what seemed to be the longest seconds of her entire life. She began to tune out the pain, and eventually the men holding her legs down didn't even have to anymore. Every ounce of hope had been completely shattered and now Petra just waited for the men to begin violating her.
But then everything stopped. The room went from smug, devious laughing to loud murderous screams of terror and despair. Then the world fell silent and lit up with the beautiful stench of death. Petra thought she had blacked out or maybe even died, and right now that was ok.
"I'm going to free your wrists." A gruff voice said, and just like that Petra snapped out of her trance.
"Who's there?" She growled, not like it even mattered.
"My name is Kayn." He said, "I'm going to catch you when I free your wrists or you'll fall. Promise me you won't fight." She felt his hands around hers, prepared to cut her free.
"What're you going to do with me?" She asked, her voice still defensive.
"I'm going to get you out of here." He said firmly "Now tell me you're going to relax and not fight me. I will kill you if I have too." He was aggressive now, but somehow Petra didn't feel threatened.
"Ok, ok. I promise."
Just like that Petra's hand restraints were cut free and her body fell limply into this mysterious man's arms. She still couldn't see anything, but she could feel him, the size of his body, the long hair that tickled her face as he carefully adjusted her in his arms.
"We're leaving now, I'll remove the sigil when when we arrive at our destination."
"You can't, it'll burn your flesh right off your fingertips." She sighed, quietly sinking deeper and deeper into his chest. She felt comfortable here, but then again a bed of rocks would have been more comfortable than dangling above the ground by her wrists for what seemed to be an eternity.
"I think I'll be just fine." He sneered reassuringly. Petra scoffed at his remark and quickly dozed off in his arms. She didn't care where he was taking her, because anything would be better than the hell she just endured...