Hello, everyone! Another installment in my streak of depressing stories (because that's what summer vacation is all about: sun, beach and depressing stories! :P ).
This is actually a story I inspired a long time ago, during my first playthrough of Dark Souls 3.
Karla's dialogue really intrigued me, especially a few lines:
"Oh there you are. I thought you'd all but forgotten me. How sweet",
as well as:
"Hm? Oh...you're not one of them, are you? Accept my apologies, for mistaking you for one of those leeches".
It seemed to me that the following story (or something along those lines) was clearly implied, and her dialogue in Firelink Shrine confirmed my suspicions:
"...Besides. It will be nice to play master for once."
I couldn't get it out of my head, so in a nice summer evening and after a series of unsettling dreams, I wrote this story, trying to experiment with a new writing style and a difficult theme.
WARNINGS: Mentions of rape/non-con, physical (and mental) abuse, a bit of violence and coarse language, and a serious amount of depression.
Don't forget to tell me what you think, reviews are always welcome! :D
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Prologue.
I didn't see them coming.
I had just arrived in Boreal Valley. I had found a nice, quiet corner close to the market.
I wasn't as lucky as I was at the last town, where I had managed to gather a few thousands of souls. This time, no one even turned their head to glance at me. So I just sat there, hurdled at my corner, waiting for a customer, any customer, even if it was for a tiny little spell.
Many people passed by. At first I was watching them, but after a while I grew tired, so I laid back and closed my eyes.
That's why I didn't see them coming.
I awoke abruptly when I felt two sets of hands grappling me. I had no time to react, none at all. I barely even saw them before they covered my head with a foul-smelling bag.
I don't know how many they were, but at least four or five voices were yelling. They were shaking me violently, shouting things like "heretic", "evil witch" and "dirty little whore".
They bound my hands tightly and, soon, they went numb.
I could hardly breathe. I couldn't react. They were poking me and pushing me around. They were hurting me. And laughing.
I tried to speak, to shout something about being innocent, being just a traveler, a beggar, a... anything. All I earned was a blow in the head, and I passed out.
When I came to, I was still blind to my environment due to the bag on my head, but I felt like being piled up over lots of alive, writhing bodies.
My hands and legs where in shackles. I tried to fight my bindings, but a female voice shouted out in protest.
"Don't move!", somebody whispered imperatively.
And then more voices:
"It's no use".
"You'd better stay quiet".
"You'll get us into trouble".
"Shut up, all of you, or they'll-"
"I can't breathe".
I dared to ask who they were, why they were doing this and where we were going. Some of the other girls were witches, like me. Some of them cried that they were innocent. The men that captured us were witch-hunters, working for Pontiff Sulyvahn. And nobody knew where we were going.
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Day 1.
They took the bag off my head but I can see no sunlight. I am underground.
I stopped hearing the voices of the other girls a while ago. I think they took them elsewhere. Now five of us are left.
They left my hands and feet bound, but by now I wish they had left me blindfolded as well. This place is awful. Endless, stinking corridors and no sun, no light, never.
They put us all in a large cell, chained to the walls and gagged so that we can't chant any incantations. As if we could cast any spells, even if we wanted to.
The guards never leave us off their sight. They are brute men, clearly uneducated but strong, and there's at least one of them for each one of us. We barely dare to breathe. And they don't hesitate to hit us, if we so much as look suspicious.
The other girls look terrified. I just try not to give them the satisfaction to see that I'm afraid, too.
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Day 2.
I have two guards watching me at all times. They keep saying I'm the worst one.
My gag is soaked in blood. They think I'm the most dangerous one, so they hit me a lot. I'm still determined to show no fear.
I hate them. I don't care about their insults, but I don't like the way they look at me. I might as well be a piece of meat. I can tell what they would do, if they could touch me, but they are not allowed to, no more than to hit me to 'put me back in order'. I don't know why. I don't know if that should reassure me or worry me.
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Day 3.
They took the rest away today. The guards came, unchained them and took them away.
Then they came for me. They even removed the filthy gag. Of course, there were five of them. No more need for a gag, since I couldn't cast spells even if I wanted to; and my hands were still tied.
They took me to a room with torches. They made me kneel in the center.
There was a man there, tall and thin, dressed in the armor the Irithyll knights use to.
He asked me what my name was. I did not answer. He asked me again. The guard that stood behind me pulled my hair and shouted for me to answer. I did not.
I had a small reputation around my name. Small indeed but, still, giving it away would get me into more trouble, so I just kept my mouth shut.
The guard warned the knight that I was a stubborn one. He just raised his hand and silenced him.
"It doesn't matter", he said. "A heretic without a name is still a heretic".
He approached me, holding a book that I recognized as one of my spellbooks. He turned a few pages, maimed them with his filthy hands.
"You were found with three of these on you and lots of scrolls. All hexes. You are aware, I suppose, that hexes are forbidden and declared illegal by our Pontiff, Sulyvahn. You were also in possession of a dark pyromancy tome, forbidden as well. Do you deny any of this?", he asked me. Again, I did not speak.
He left my spellbook aside and approached me.
"I don't need your name to understand that you are a child of the Dark. You carry the Abyss within you. You are hereby sentenced to imprisonment until further notice. In the name of our Pontiff, your spellbooks, scrolls, staff and chime are confiscated. Take her away".
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Day 4.
They brought me to a cell, deep below the surface. The air here is thick and smells like mould and rotten bodies. I think I'm in the deepest level of a labyrinth of dungeons.
I have chains around my ankles, but I can walk almost as far as the bars of my cage. All I can see from here is a wide corridor, lined with cells like mine.
I can hear awful wails and the breathing of creatures that are definitely not human. I believe they keep more than hollows down here. But that's not the worst. The most horrible thing about this place is its jailers.
They are patrolling outside my cell all the time. They wear pointed hoods and masks, but their eyes burn even through them.
Their eyes burn. I don't know what kind of sorcery this is, but it makes even my wretched powers look harmless. When they look at me, I feel my very life force being sucked out of me.
Sometimes they emit this putrid fog, which only makes things worse.
Under their gaze, I feel my power slipping away. I feel my life slipping away.
My pride is all I have left. I know that I'm just a cursed child of the Abyss, but even so, I am determined to keep even a little piece of myself for me.
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Day 5.
Every time I walk to the bars of my cell to look outside, the jailers come gliding and glare at me until my legs have no more the strength to support me.
I swear they enjoy watching me collapse to the filthy floor and crawl, powerless, to my corner. And yet, I am the one that is locked up. I know I'm no saint, but they deserve to be behind those bars as much as I do.
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Day 7.
I have a few rats for company, but they scurry when a jailer comes by. They won't even let me keep these poor substitutes of a companion.
At least by now I'm used to the smell of this place.
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Day 8.
I think they laugh under their masks sometimes. I have never heard them talk, though. At least not when they are close to me.
I've caught whispers and laughing; and their laughs are really unsettling.
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Day 11.
One of them talked to me today.
I had crept up to the bars when he approached me. His eyes burnt red and I collapsed. He laughed at me at first and then he talked. His voice was muffled under the mask, but he said something like comparing my magic powers to theirs and challenged me to get up.
He laughed even more when all I could do was writhe on the floor.
Never mind. We will meet in the Abyss someday.
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Day 15.
He keeps coming back. Sometimes he talks to me, to insult me.
The rats don't come anymore.
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Day 17.
I am afraid.
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Day 18.
It's awfully quiet today. Most of the jailers are gone, I don't know why.
A baby rat came by to play.
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Day 19.
They are all back, hoods and masks and burning eyes and everything. And I am alone.
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Day 23.
The jailers came to my cell today. They unlocked it and got in, while two more stood guard outside. They ordered me to get up and they didn't burn me with their eyes this time. So I got up. I thought I was being transferred or something.
Turned out I wasn't.
One of them said: "Take off your hat, witch, so we can see your face".
I didn't, so they did it for me. They tossed it to the corner behind me.
One of them laughed in a horrible, gurgling way. "Defiance will earn you nothing, filthy heretic. You'll realize that yourself, sooner or later".
Another one tipped my chin up and observed my face in the light of their torches. "Well, well...", he rasped. "You were right. Those children of the Abyss always had their way with looks".
"Another way for them to lure unsuspected victims", replied a voice I recognized, the voice of the one that visited my cell all those days to laugh at me.
"And yet, here you are, too, and I wouldn't call you 'unsuspected victims'", I retorted - the first words that left my mouth in weeks.
"Ooh, it bites back!", they jeered.
"It's all right. I prefer it that way", the familiar one said. His eyes glowed red and I staggered. "Why don't you show us those teeth of yours again?", he taunted me as I gasped for air.
I looked up at their three identical masks and decided against saying something that I would soon regret. So I kept silent.
"There she goes again, the defying little bitch. We'll have to teach you to obey orders", he said and he approached me. "Kneel", he commanded.
I, like the defiant little bitch I was, didn't. I knew that I would earn nothing that way. I was in a tight spot with no way out, no matter whether I was obedient or not. But my pride was all I had left, so I chose not to obey.
His eyes glowed and, eventually, my legs gave in and I sank to my knees.
I wondered if they were men under their robes; they glided around in such an inhuman way. I don't know if they are human, but they are men alright.
It's funny, but for all the insults and the curses they kept spitting at me, they seemed to have a pretty good time playing with me.
At least, they didn't tear my clothes, so I was able to put them back on when they left.
It's cold down here.
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Day 25.
They came back, and they were four this time.
I hate their hands. They are cold and reek of death, and they are always on me.
I hope they won't come tomorrow. I'm not going to ask it of them, but I am in pain and my body needs some time to heal.
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Day 26.
They came back again.
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Day 29.
I think I'm his favorite one. The others are almost never the same, but he is always there.
They never take off their masks, but I recognize him now even before he talks, from the way he moves and his heavy breathing.
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Day 33.
Only two came today. By their standards, it was almost romantic.
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Day 40.
Finally, a day of peace.
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Day 44.
Still no sign of them. I wonder if they forgot me. I don't think I could be this lucky, though.
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Day 46.
I knew I couldn't be this lucky.
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Day 58.
They don't come everyday now. Nor are they as many.
Perhaps they grew bored of me. Perhaps they have new prisoners in some other part of the dungeon.
I don't know. I barely even have my pride left by now.
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Day 71... I think.
He came alone today. He brought a scorching iron with him and he branded me with a strange symbol that rendered me incapable of moving. And then he just stood there and laughed.
I don't know what was worst: the burning pain or the helpless paralysis. Or him.
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Day... 76?
He came alone again. I know that he's strong, but I thought I'd fight him, to see what 'll happen.
I think it amused him even more.
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Two days later. (78?)
"Won't you fight me today?", he asked and I knew he was grinning under the mask.
"You don't deserve the honor", I replied.
He laughed and he left.
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It really just feels like an endless night.
"You know, you should be careful, or I might think you're actually in love", I said as I heard him approaching.
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Day 103.
He took off his mask.
Now I have a face to hate, along with his voice and his body and his dirty hands and his dirty mind.
The downside is that I can't stand it when he forces me to look at him.
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Day 105...?
"Look at you, getting all attached... You don't even feel the need to hide your face around me anymore. Aren't I the luckiest girl ever?"
Irony is the last resort of my fading pride.
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Day 1X8.
He brought friends with him, after a long time.
"Honey, you should have warned me that we'd have guests", I said, sounding almost bored so as not to sound terrified.
You'd think I'd grow used to it eventually.
Perhaps I have. Perhaps that's what terrified me.
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Day 1XX.
He likes games. Today, he wanted me to call him 'master'. I laughed, and I was glad to see that the defiant little bitch in me hadn't disappeared completely.
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Day... I don't know.
He managed to make me call him 'master'.
I am in too much pain.
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Does it even matter anymore?
"You know what's remarkable about you?", he panted. "That after all this time, you've still got that foul mouth of yours, ready to retort to anyone and anything. Is that trait some secret power of filthy, heretic whores like you?"
Even though his hand was pressing my face to the dirt, I managed to answer.
"I don't know. Is constantly being an asshole a trait of sick bastards, like you?"
My cry of pain covered his amused laugh.
"See, that's what I'm talking about. Even though you know it will get you in more pain, you just can't resist talking back, can you? I wonder why. Have you grown so fond of pain? Do you secretly enjoy it? Or do you just think you deserve it, after all? Do you know, deep down, that you are a cursed child of the Abyss that deserves nothing more than punishment and purging?"
This time I didn't answer. I couldn't let him know that this pathetic irony was the last piece of self that I had managed to keep, however diminished and distorted, as an echo of who I once was.
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XXXXXXX.
The leech kissed me today. Not out of fondness, obviously. He did it because he knew that it would make me sick, that I would hate it even more that the things he already does to me.
He was right.
There were a bunch of things I could have hissed back, along the lines of "Does that make us husband and wife?" or something like that, but I didn't.
I couldn't.
I think I'm losing my touch.
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I don't care anymore.
I wonder if there's still the rest of the world out there. If I'll ever go out again. And I wonder, if I do get out, will I flinch to the light? Will I detest the clean air?
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X05GL1KOO5X.
The guard talked to me today, when he brought me a plate of that vile thing the dare to call food. He told me I look terrible; I bet I do. By now my body is just bones and bruises.
I'm curious how my face looks. I wonder if it's still my face.
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Day.
I heard him unlock my cell and enter after quite a long time of loneliness.
"Oh, there you are", I said without lifting my head. "I thought you'd all but forgotten me. How sweet. Good to know that a skinny little heretic can still turn heads".
No answer. Something was off. The breathing was different.
I looked up and, instead of seeing the familiar hooded figure, I saw an Unkindled, holding a torch and a sword.
He said he wanted to set me free.