My first one-shot... It's sort of dark, but I hope you like!
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade.
Pain. The demon everyone fears in some form. The demon that screams inside your head, echoing around your skull, torturing your body in any way possible.
And it never backs down, it never surrenders. It continues screaming inside your mind, slowly driving you insane. Always. It never stops.
Scars decorate my skin and embroider my mind. The wounds to my flesh will heal, but I will never forget the torture and suffering he made me endure, over and over again. The torture that is on my mind every waking moment. And knowing that whatever I do will never be good enough fills me with dread.
I've learned to accept and live with the continuous suffering. But I'll never get used to it. I'll never get used to the pain he puts me in.
Nightmares swim around my mind, clogging my memory with images I would rather forget. But the terrifying this is: they will always be with me, pushing me to the very edge of sanity. How I'm still sane, I will never know.
He punishes me for everything. Always me, I make sure of that. I will never let him harm my friends in any way, no matter what the cost. A sprained wrist? Whatever. A cracked rib? Fine. A broken arm? At least my friends are okay.
Even darkness cannot comfort me. In my sleep he still punishes me, in my sleep I'm still terrified of him. In my sleep my screams are louder. And they always will be.
A prison cell. Blood on the floor. The moon shines outside, illuminating a section of the room, but the rest is pitch black.
Lying on the stone tiles, I look around, holding in the cry of pain. He stands before me, his belt in one hand, an evil grin on his aged face. The guards stand by the entrance smirking, blocking the only escape route.
I'm trapped.
His silhouette covers the floor, carpeting the tiles with black. I can barely move. It's my fault. It's all my fault.
"When will you learn?" He says, a sickening sound of content in his voice. His shadow crosses over me as he steps closer, causing me to shiver. As he raises his arm I close my eyes, knowing what's coming next.
I cry out in pain. Clutching my stomach, I turn to face him, tears running down my pale face.
He laughs, his voice echoing around the room. I hate him. I hate him.
"No wonder your parents killed themselves. You're worthless." He laughs. I flinch, my pain instantly forgotten; instead it's replaced with anger.
"Don't talk about my parents like that." I whisper. But not quietly enough.
"What did you just say?" His smile is instantly replaced with an expression of rage. My eyes widen as he raises his arm again, the belt swaying mockingly in the damp air.
I scream as the buckle cuts across my back, the pain overwhelming. He laughs yet again as I try to stop screaming.
"One day." He grins. I squeeze my eyes shut and curl up into a ball, waiting until the torture ends.
"One day you will learn." His boot connects with the side of my head and everything turns black.
"Tala?"
"Is he awake yet?"
"No."
"Wait- he moved!"
"Tala? Are you okay?"
My eyes flutter open. Bryan and Spencer stand over me, wearing their training outfits. What's going on? I was battling a new kid, and then- oh. Right.
"Don't try to move. You're hurt pretty bad." Spencer kneeled down beside me and pressed a cold cloth to my chest. I winced as Bryan did the same.
"You'll be okay." Spencer whispered. I cast my eyes to the ceiling, noticing that I was still in the prison cell.
"Boris?" I croak, attempting to sit up, only to be pushed back down by Spencer.
"He's gone." I sigh, relieved. But he would be back. He wasn't done yet.
Bryan brushed my hair out of my eyes and delicately placed a cloth on my head where a dark bruise was forming. He was cursing in Russian, calling Boris every bad thing he could think of.
"You've been out for hours." Spencer said. I gulped as a new wave of pain ran through me, resisting the urge to scream. But that would only attract Boris's attention, so I bit my lip as my friends bandaged my wounds.
No more words were exchanged between the three of us. But we didn't need to talk. We knew we were thinking the exact same thing: one day, Boris will fall, and Biovolt will fall with him.
But that's ages away. And until then, I await the punishments. I await the pain. Knowing that even when Boris has been locked up, the pain will never cease.
The nightmares will laugh at me every time I close my eyes, and they will continue torturing me until my final breath.
I will never recover. I will never be able to close my eyes without seeing images of our purple-haired leader, I will never be able to look at my friends without reminiscing the screams.
No matter what I do, he will be with me.
Forever.
This is what happens when I decide to write something. My psychopathic imagination will really get me into trouble one day...
Please R&R!