WARNINGS: nothing is explicit, but there are distinct undertones of physical torture and rape. TELL ME IF I SHOULD UP THE RATING PLEASE!
********************DO NOT READ if under 13 YEARS OLD ((I don't want to be responsible for scarring someone for life...))
I do not own DC Comics
Iron. Cold, hard, gritty iron. Clamps of iron latched onto her wrists like the jaws of a dog snapped shut. Tendrils of shadows kissed her cheeks and bare body. She writhed in pain, ankles and wrists banging against the cold, hard iron. The smell of death and decay met her nose. Her eyes widened, and she gasped for air. Her lungs were soaked with red liquid. Red flew from her lips as she tried to breath. Her eyes darted around the room. She could see nothing but shadows.
There was the sound of clanking chains and dripping water. Clink, clank, drip drip drip. Clink, clank, drip drip drip. Click, clank, dripdripdripdripdripdripdrip drip. Clinkclankclinkclankclink drip.
Her heart rammed against her ribcage, trying to escape. She whimpered into the blackness. Her head throbbed. Her legs screamed. Her arms cried. Her nether regions wailed in agony. Her whole body hurt, and she could hardly stand it. She could not breath without coughing up red. Her fingers and toes were bent at odd angles. Her ankles and wrists held raw, blistering wounds from being rubbed against gritty iron. Her ribs pushed against her pale skin, trying to break through. Her brain was throwing itself against her skull again and again.
There was the sound of a door being opened. Slowly, with a long, high creak. Creeeeeeeak. It was a specter screaming, readying her for more. 'He's coming,' it cried, 'he's bringing his toys of shadow, too!'
She whimpered again, pulling against the iron. The cold, hard, gritty iron. It tore at her wrists and ankles, and she gasped in pain. Her nude body shivered in the cold, dank air. Shadows kissed her every curve, her every crevasse. She screamed for them to go away, to leave her and her body alone. Laughter answered her, and she screamed with anger. The pain in her head heightened as her brain continued to attempt suicide. She whined again, begging her brain to stop hurting itself.
″Hello, Iris.″
She wanted to scream, but the shadows engulfed her lungs. A sharp pain entered her arm, and she gasped, whimpered. That voice. That voice was nails on a chalkboard, metal scraping against metal, bone scraping against rock. She cried out as the Shadow's long, brown nails dug into her face. Warm liquid flowed from her body, down her forehead and over her eyelashes. Warm, wet, warm. She relished the warm against the cold iron.
″Hello, my dear,″ came again the voice.
She whined and whimpered and pulled against her bonds. Ice-cold tendrils from the Shadow ran over her body, over her bare breasts and over her stomach, down her legs and off her toes. The Shadow laughed. The laugh was worse than the voice. If the voice was nails against a chalkboard, then the laugh was the sound of thousands of souls being torn to pieces. The Shadow smelt, too. The Shadow smelt of burning flesh, of blood mixed with sulfur mixed with smoke and flame.
The Shadow caressed her body and her face, talking to her as it did terrible things. It tore into her body with cold iron. It beat her with thing ropes of leather. It played with her, speaking unrepeatable things to her. It liked to watch her writhe in pain. It lived to make her cry. Its hot tongue ran up and down her cheek, licking up her salty tears and coppery blood. She begged it not to. She begged it to let her go, pleaded and offered it anything it wanted. But the Shadow just wanted her.
Cold shadows approached her fingers, and she gasped. Her oddly shaped appendages clawed at and scraped at the cold, hard, gritty iron bonds. She whimpered as shadows toyed with her mangled fingers, stretching them and twisting them. She whined as the shadows trailed up her fingers and down her arms, over her breasts and towards her gut.
Cold iron touched her stomach. She gasped as the Shadow cut into her again. The Shadow's icy tendrils fingered around her, toyed with her insides. The Shadow loved to hurt her. The Shadow lived to make her cry. It loved to watch her writhe.
The Shadow laughed, and more cold iron touched her nude body. A thin, tiny piece of iron was forced into her. She grunted, eyes wide and running around the room. She looked anywhere except for at the Shadow. The room was pitch black, and the shadows all laughed at her as she tried to see past them to find light. But there was no light in the place of the Shadow's birth. Only fear and death and darkness.
A tug at her gut made her whimper. Cold iron pierced her body again. Then, something was being dragged through her skin, over and under, again and again. Prick, then tug. Prick, then tug. The Shadow laughed as it watched her push restlessly against her bonds. Nothing could beat the Shadow. Nothing could help her get out of the Shadow's house alive. Nothing.
She was nothing. The Shadow told her everyday. No one wanted her- that was why they had given her to the Shadow. But the Shadow knew her, loved her, cherished her. She was the Shadow's, now and forevermore. The Shadow would kiss her, lick away her tears and blood. The Shadow would caress her, toy with her. She was the Shadow's rag doll. She was the Shadow's chew toy.
The Shadow licked at her stomach, taking away the red from her stitches. Black tendrils of cold wiped away the red from the Shadow's mouth. The Shadow smiled, yellow and brown crooked teeth stained with red against black lips. She whimpered and pulled away from the Shadow, although she could never escape.
She was the Shadow's.
Suddenly, there was a flash of white. Light? It had been so long since she had seen light, she did not know what it looked like. The Shadow had always told her she did not need to worry about things like light. After all, if she grew used to shadows, if she grew to love shadows, what would she need light for?
The Shadow screamed. It was as if millions of souls were being ripped to shreds. She cried out, her wet throat throwing red liquid into the air. The Shadow's scream carried throughout the room, bouncing off of the walls and onto her bare skin, sinking through her skin and into her soul. Cold, black shadows wailed in reply to their master's screams. The Shadow screamed once more. Then, there was nothing.
Light flashed into the room, swallowing the shadows whole. They hissed and spit as they evaporated into nothing. She whimpered and curled into herself as the light penetrated her skin, baring her soul to all living creatures. Her wrists and ankles pulled at her cold, hard, gritty iron bonds. She cried out in pain.
″Iris! Oh, Hera...″
″No! For God's sake, don't let Wally in here-″
″Move, let me see her-″
″Call a doctor or something-″
She moaned as the voices all attacked her. Her eyes snapped shut, trying to block out the light. It was a hero with a sword aimed straight at her heart. She grunted softly, trying to get the voices to leave her alone. They would taunt her and torture her as the shadows did.
″Iris, open your eyes.″
This voice was different. It was not cold. It was not black. It was warm. It was blue. A soothing, calm voice that called out to her, conveying to her that she was safe. Informing her that she would be fine. It was warmth, and it was light.
One eye cracked open. Rays of light assaulted her, and she cried out. Her brain rammed into her skull again and again, demanding to be let out. Her heart and lungs screamed and wailed, begging her to end it all.
″Dim the lights a bit!″
″Get a blanket!″
″SHUT UP!″
The blue voice screamed at the other voices, demanding that they leave her alone. For once, she did not mind screaming. It got the other voices to leave her alone. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to be left alone to die. Surely death would be better than the Shadow and its minions.
She opened her mouth, trying to speak.
″Don't talk. Just open your eyes.″
A warm, heavy something was thrown over her body, silencing any chills and shadows that may have still existed. She pushed herself against it, trying to consume its warmth fully. Her ankles and wrists were tugged at, and she whimpered.
″Get those... things off of her!″
Heat. Hot, fiery tendrils of flame pursed at the cold, hard, gritty iron. The flames kissed at licked at the iron, and she screamed. She screamed, trying to pull away. She wanted warmth, not flames. She wanted comfort, not passion. She wanted the warmth, soft thing lying over her, not the hot, fiery thing pecking at her wrists and ankles.
Then, as quickly as it started, it was all over. The flames were gone. Her wrists and ankles were free. Whatever the flame was, she loved it. She loved every bit of that flame. The flame had shooed the dogs that held onto her body in their vice grips. Her twisted fingers grabbed at the warmth on top of her, and something in her mind said 'cloth'. She gripped the cloth with her broken fingers as if she would be given back to the Shadow if she did not.
″Irey. Irey, please open your eyes.″
The blue voice was beckoning to her now. It was reaching out to her, trying to get her to open up to it. It wanted to have her, like the Shadow did.
″I won't hurt you. I promise. Just... please. Please, open your eyes...″
I won't hurt you.
I won't hurt you.
I won't hurt you.
She cracked open one eye warily. Her heart and brain and lungs were all screaming. They threw themselves around and cried, begging her to go back to the Shadow. The Shadow was less painful than the light and the blue voice.
There was no assaulting light this time. She opened her other eye. People, short, tall, skinny, muscular, stood around her. They wore blindingly bright colors. They wore metal. Iron. Cold, hard, gritty iron.
Her breath came quick, and she grabbed the cloth to her chest. Her broken fingers protested, but she did not relent. She pulled the cloth to her face. It kissed her cheeks as she cried, hot tears leaking from her eyes.
″Iris.″
She looked up and saw him. The owner of the blue voice. He was tall, thin like a rail. He had black hair that shined silver in the light. His eyes were a startling blue. His lips were a rosy pink. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her, his blue eyes full of worry and hope and light. Light. His eyes held so much light.
″Iris.″
One word came to mind.
″Damian?″
He smiled.
the blue voice- Damian Wayne ((Robin))
the Shadow- Professor Zoom ((the Flash's arch nemesis))
Scotty1609- an awesome author who would appreciate your reviews! :D