Charcoal
"..."
She used to wonder about the world and all its occupants. She used to trust everyone she came across. She used to be good and innocent and all these other pretty words that people attached to her name.
It was all meaningless, however.
She didn't remember her name, or what her parents faces looked like anymore. She didn't remember a lot of things from this life.
She counted it as a blessing.
Tora, fierce like a tiger—they'll love that, observed the crowded room with dead eyes, just daring any of the men to approach her. A few did and a few made promises to see her in the back of the brothel. And she snapped at them with sharp words and sharper eyes and it only seemed to excite them.
Tora had been here for three years and she should've learned her lesson by now with these types—the ones who got off on her fighting back. The ones who loved when her knuckles brushed against their skin and her nails left claw marks that bled. Because she didn't want to stop fighting, because if she did then they won. They would have had broken her just like they did every other girl with the same dead eyes and plastered smiles and Tora didn't want to be broken. She wanted to be angry.
Anger meant she was still alive.
So she fought and kicked and scratched and screamed the harshest words she could. She pulled their hair, she scratched at their eyes, she'd bite their dicks when they tried to fuck her mouth and oh—they learned real quick on that one.
It didn't matter what they looked like or where they came from, at their core these men were vile and despicable and they got off on her trying to fight them. They hovered over her malnourished body and said the same words in the same lust filled voice as the man before and the man after them. Their eyes glazed over and they thrust into her balls deep every time, skin slapping skin and god it hurt, it always hurt.
And Tora liked that pain in a sick, sick, sick way, a reminder to her it meant she could still feel—that she wasn't as far gone as the other girls, that she still had a spirit that wasn't broken.
The pain made a fire burn deep inside her belly until it made her blood become liquid fire in her veins and she saw nothing but red because she wanted these men dead at her feet, she wanted their dicks burned and their skin torched so that they could feel the same pain she felt every time they touched her skin.
Tora wanted them to be afraid just like she was—is and she wanted them to never forget that fear that she felt every morning when she woke up and every night when she finally passed out.
Every lust filled look they gave, every bruise they made, every drop of blood drawn from her body was added to the hate inside her and she watched and observed because the first chance she got she would burn this place to the ground with everyone in it.
And the pimp who took her from her family three years ago knew that too. So she was constantly watched, her nails were declawed like a cat that couldn't fight back anymore, they took one of her only defenses away. She couldn't have a glass of anything or even a wine bottle, not after the first and last time she smashed it over a customer's head.
She never got the chance to burn this wretched hellhole with everyone locked inside it though because someone else did it first.
In a hail of fire and ashes, of blood and metallic screeches of metal against metal, Tora looked into the eyes of the devil himself.
And she saw scarlet red and pinwheels that were darker than nightmares could ever hope to be and Tora felt alive because she would dance with this devil, she knew it deep inside every crevice of her body.
"I know who you are," she smiled. "I know who you'll be." And her voice rang clear between the two of them despite the fire burning around them.
AN
This is a oneshot little scene i had in my head for a long time and then had in google docs for an even longer time. There's not really a story after this. its not even 1k long.