(A/N) Hello, fairies. Thank you for reading. There is a few things before we sidle on. This story has dark themes, but as keeping with policy and utter lack of skill, there is nothing particularly (sexually) descriptive, the rating is for the goriness. If you are sensitive to abuse, please close the window/and or tab, or press the back button promptly. Thank you again.
She was awakened by the iron door, scraping on its railing, that perpetually blocked her way out, her freedom.
She didn't bother to cover her nude form, marred with bruises that will never heal due to their constant replacing, bite marks that were puffy and red, and a rib cage that was prominent beneath thin skin. The tray with thin soup, and a roll of bread was placed by the door, its escort long gone, though the blood from the owner's steps marked her entrance and exit.
She painfully got up from her corner of the room, one that she kept perilously clean using her only cup of water for the day, and a spare rag from her wash basin. The only corner not marred by blood, bile, and whatever got where ever. With a limp, she dragged her self over to the tray, ate the thin soup, drank the warm beers, and took the fresh bucket of water and poured in to the basin. She cleaned off the blood and sweat from last time. If she looked presentable, usually the beatings weren't that bad. "That bad." , meaning one punch at a time.
She replaced the now empty receptacle aside, and returned to her corner.
She stared into the iron bars guarding a false window.
Iron...
"It's been two months since she was supposed to be back. And ya still say that she could be preoccupied?"
Gajeel had damn near broke the desk in two, with the force he had used to bring his hands down upon it.
Makarov stared at the boy in front of him.
"I never said that... I said the mission could be taking longer than anticipated. Happens all the time."
"So what? I'm going to look for her." He turned on his heels, and blasted out of the office.
The stairs were kicked out of asylum, as his booted feet, made the landings. He seethed. Something was horribly wrong here. It was a simple mission to a town hall a few stops over, to help reorganize. A week and a half long mission does not simply drag on for double that.
At the base of the steps, however there was a surprise waiting. The raijinshuu were assembled and packed, along with Jet and Droy.
"We're ready." Laxus barked, already prepared to kick teeth down throats.
"Train station at 3 o' clock," His stomach turned at the thought of it but he ain't got time for walking to Clover.
"We make plans upon arrival."
He dropped her on the concrete floor.
The pain was familar, bearable now, as he settled between her bruised thighs. She ignored the jolts of fire that ran through her veins, ignored the cannon that exploded inside her. She stared off into the ceiling, waiting for him to be done.
It was agony, those times.
When he removed himself from her, her cell, she laid in the puddle of blood that erupted from her wounds. Enjoying the silence.
It was better than the sound of blade cutting across bone.
The morning sun brought the first train into Clover with it.
And two rather disoriented Dragon Slayers.
Attempting to shake it off, Gajeel downed a cup of black coffee, and made for the town hall.
The protest of his teammates wasn't good enough to stop him.
Once there, he "kindly" asked to know where Levy McGarden had gone. The clerk said she left for Magnolia a while ago.
He had been right.
Climbing the thin spires of a nearby church, he waited for a wind to pass.
"There you are...my little flower."
She held her cringe. He had returned for her.
He beckoned her to come. She did and before she knew, she was being whipped. The slices across her frail back wept with the force. She did not. He would only do it harder otherwise.
He took her again. And once more. Until she lost count.
This is was the rest of her pitiful life. A chained harlot.
She prayed to the spirits for anything but., knowing that it would never come.