Part 3 - Brief Respite
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Fiona was dozing on the floor. Although the stone made her body ache, the cold stone helped the swelled of her bulleted hip, grazed skin and swelling eye. Somehow, there was even blood on her earlobes and scalp. There was just blood everywhere. She was almost amused at how thoroughly she had been bashed and bruised. She was dozing, vaguely remembering that it had been days since her capture, and did not noticed the tip tapping on the stones, coming closer. She only opened her eyes when there was a snuffle and whine at the bars. She knew those noises anywhere, and opened her eyes to find...
"Hewie!" Joyously she whispered, scrambling on her belly to the bars, "It really is you!" Tears rolled down her cheeks as she reached through the bars with imploring, eager hands and stroked his pelt. It was dripping, wetly matted together all the way up to his back. He had apparently had to swim to get here, meaning a water source to navigate. But for now..., "Hewie, keys! Keys boy! Go!" Hewie stood there, wagging his tail uneasily, tired, but still turned and started to nose the ground, "Table, Hewie." He trotted to the table immediately and hopped up so his forelegs were on the table. He noticed the only item, the key ring she had been able to stare at tantalizing for days but not reach, and took it into his mouth.
"You mangy dog!" Riccardo had appeared out of no where in a flurry of rapid steps, and had sent the dog flying against the wall with his shoe. The keys flew from his mouth and landed towards the opposite wall.
"NO!" Fiona screamed, leaping to her feet and had no eyes for the rings any longer, only watching as Riccardo strode towards the dog and kicked him mercilessly in the ribcage. Hewie snapped back valiantly, but only managed to get mouthfuls of pants and leather boots. Riccardo aimed a kick at his head, and left the dog's head lolling, slobber drooling down his muzzle, eyes glazed. Finally, Riccardo lifted his foot and slammed it down on the ribcage, breaking something with a snap of bones and a squealing howl from Hewie, and held him down as he aimed the barrel of his gun at Hewie and fired into his head, "NOOOOOOOOO!" Fiona screamed rabidly, shaking the bars back and forth, her eyes on the puddle of blood that was spreading from the limp dog, "NOO! NO NO NOOOOOOO!" She screamed over and over and over. She screamed over Riccardo's amused laughter, "No, Hewie, oh..." She sobbed with her face against the bars, yearning to get to the dog even though she mentally knew he was dead. She wanted to get to him. She had promised him that they would get out together, had promised him freedom for his loyalty, and now he was trapped in death in this place forever.
"Did you really think it would be that easy? That I would let you go?" She looked at him, but he had grabbed her face through the bars. She screamed and jerked, making him bend his arm backwards through the bars and making him let her go. She backed away sobbing and the bed hit her at the back of her knees, making her fall hap hazardously onto the bed in a heap of tears and shattered hope. Here was indisputable proof that Hewie was dead. Riccardo took the bars in his hands, looking at her with a smile, watching as she sobbed and turned to the wall, beating it with her hands until they were red and stripped of layer after layer of skin, re hurting herself in some useless panic for freedom.
"LET ME OUT LETMEOUTLETMEOUUUT!" Fiona screamed and tangled her feet in the blanket, falling to her knees. She scrambled off the bed and picked it up, flinging it at the bars. Riccardo stepped away so his fingers wouldn't be smashed, and watched as she threw the box, the stool, the tiny table, watched as she smashed it all, standing and raving in a pile of smashed wood, screams echoing of the wall into ears that did not care. He left her to flail her energies, wear herself out. He left her to stew in her misery. He knew it wouldn't last. She would break under his will, become submissive, and do as he wanted, if for nothing else than to survive. She would, and could, survive in any conditions he put her in, merely because the yearning of life was still in her breast.
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Daniella could hear her screams for survival echoing down the hallways, and she had to say... she didn't care either. She only cared that the last scream would be by her hand.