Kung Fu Panda. Don't own it, or else things would've ended differently with Tai Lung. Grr.
Tai Lung growled. Bloody, naked; he couldn't quite believe what he's done. He escaped Chorh Gom prison.
He's free, free at last.
After the years of torture and sexual abuse… only now does he let himself cry, the salty tears streaking on his face as he saw the first bright rays of the sun as dawn approached.
Naked, now why was he in such a state? Dimly, he remembered being drugged with his pants pulled down to fulfil the carnal desires of Vachir and his cronies.
"Oh, he's got a nice tight ass…"
Fuck. Tai Lung gritted his teeth, he no longer wanted to hear those voices anymore, he just wanted to rest and die in peace. But there were things he wanted to do, he needed to seek closure. Perhaps he was getting old, but he no longer cared much about power or revenge.
Maybe he'll die pathetic and alone and they'll find his rotting body but before his body rots they'll see the marks on his body and they'll know he was raped-starved-RAPED-STARVED-RAPED and then-
Then what? Shifu, Oogway, they visited him, taunting him when he was in prison with all the disappointed looks-
BULLSHIT! Hadn't he been punished enough? No one deserved to be fucked to within an inch of their lives and deprived of food until; he could feel his muscles waste away, his insides digesting themselves-
-he had woken up with blood on his muzzle one day, a ravaged corpse in front of him-
Vachir's laughter as he said, "Enjoying your meal?"
Even in his weakened state, Tai Lung could not help but convulse in horror. But protein was protein; he needed his strength if he was ever going to get out of this hell. As he wolfed down his grisly meal, his stomach grumbled for more/So hungry/ he swore to rip out Vachir's innards, to splatter his brains all over the floor/delicious brains
Nobody could survive that and still remain sane. And most of all, he could no longer claim to retain his humanity, after all the depraved things they made him do…
A long, anguished howl was ripped from his throat, vibrating in the Mongolian wasteland. Many would say they heard a ghost that night, the little children tucked in bed early, huddling in fear.