Chapter 11
"The Answer to an Unasked Question"
Her eyes snapped open. She inhaled suddenly as his big fist slammed into her stomach. Vomit came rushing to her sore throat. She wanted to spit it out but couldn't. She realized it was because she was lying on her back. Vomit filled her mouth; she couldn't breathe. She tried to muster up the strength to roll over. She couldn't. She realized her arms were chained above her head. She tilted her head to the side and the vomit rushed out of her mouth. She felt the warm bile run down her upper arm. The last of it slowly dripped out of her mouth as she finally inhaled. She hadn't eaten in days so it was just the wet gooey, yellow acid. The taste still filled her mouth. She dry heaved a few more times before she was sure it was done.
She didn't know how long she had been here. She often lost track of time when she was forcefully brought here. It was the blow that had awakened her. She was lying on her back against the cold, hard stone table. The stone table was too short for her long frame. The edge of the table came out to only her mid-thigh, making deep cuts into her legs. She felt the weight of the chains around her ankles as they cut into her young skin. Her arms were stretched above her head; they were chained as well. The top of the table stopped at the base of her skull, so she had to either strain to keep her head up or let the sharp edge cut into the back of her neck. The table hurt her more than anything at the moment, but it was never made to be comfortable.
She was so exhausted; she had no strength left and let her head hung back as she tried to escape the pain. Her throat was so dry. It hurt to breath. Every time she inhaled it felt like someone was dragging their nails against the inside of her throat. She tried to swallow her spit, but there was none. It hurt when she tried to draw a deep breath, so she figured a few ribs were already broken. She tried to take shallower breaths, but that required more and so her throat would pay the price.
She had no idea how long she had been here. They would allow her to sleep at unsystematic points, for a few hours here and there. Sometimes it would be less than an hour and sometimes she felt as if they let her sleep the entire day. There were no windows, so she couldn't see the sun and count the days. They turned off the lamps at odd and random points to confuse the prisoners. It was all to confuse her, so one would feel like it had been a lifetime since they had seen the sun. She had probably had only a few hours of sleep this time, but she had lost track. People lost track of things down here, most went insane because of it.
She herself was barely old enough to be called a woman, but they didn't care. She had nothing to offer them to make them stop, but again, they didn't care. They only cared about one thing: Pain. They were good at what they did. They were trained to break a person, but she would not give in. She never would give in. They considered it a contest between themselves to break her there were several bets on different torturers to see who would have the victory. No matter how much pain they gave her, she would not surrender to any of them.
She struggled to keep her swollen and blackened eyes open. She heard his boots coming across the stone floor. She had memorized the sound so she could prepare herself for what was going to come. This torturer had kept her here longer than most, or at least it seemed that way. She had no real proof of that.
He was upside down. She wondered why, but then remembered her head was the one upside down. He halted and looked down at her. He was a bull of a man and no less of an animal. His leather vest revealed his burly chest. The sleeves were ripped off. His arms bulged against the brass rings around his upper arms. He had several piercings in his face, two at his left eyebrow and one through his left nostril. His shaved head only added to the fierce affect of his appearance. He looked down at her with disgust.
He reached down and unhooked the chain from the hook in the ground. He pulled the chain up over her and walked to the other end of the table. The blisters on her wrists popped as the iron chafed against them. She grimaced and inhaled sharply at the intense pain. She shut her eyes tight as she felt the blood run down her wrists. The gooey bile slid down her arm as well. The man pulled on the chain quickly and pulled her right shoulder out of place. She winced. It was a minor injury compared to some of her others. Her head lolled limply as she was pulled to an upright position by her arms.
He had one of his assistants hold her upright as he hooked the chains into the wall. After they were secure he nodded for the man to let her go. As soon as he did she fell limply backwards. The chains snapped tight and held her there. The sudden pain in her dislocated shoulder made her give a sharp scream. Her breathing quickened as she gained control of herself.
He walked over to the table with the tools of his profession. He gently glided his fingers over them as he turned to her. She swung her head over toward him and her long hair dangled over her sweaty face. Some pieces stuck to her. He made sure she was watching. The man grabbed the canteen. He gulped the contents. She watched as some spilled and dribbled down the side of his muscled neck. It was something the torturers did often to tempt their prisoners or "assignments" as they called them. It did tempt her to give in, but she wouldn't. They would beat her within an inch of her life, but they wouldn't let her die. She was good practice for them. That's what they had told her. She knew it was probably a lie, but it was a little hope she held onto. Some say there are worse things than death. For her nothing – at least at this point in her life – was more terrifying than death.
He set the canteen down without putting on the cap. Her eyes stayed on the canteen. He chose one of the shorter knives with a ragged edge. He inspected it closely as he walked over to her. He came up to her right side and held it in front of her face. She breathed in heavily even though it pained her, and stared blankly ahead. He held the knife with his right hand; with his other he grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. He turned her face side to side inspecting her like a piece of meat. His brown eyes were almost black.
He leaned in close until their faces were almost touching. "Pity," he started. His breath was hot on her flesh. His breath smelled of rotting meat. "Such young beauty…wasted." He spoke slowly and softly letting each word settle in. "You have probably never even felt the soft touch of a lover's caress." with the knife in hand he drew his index finger down the left side of her jaw. The knife followed precisely where his disgusting finger had touched. She winced and shut her eyes tight as the knife cut her skin. She felt the warm, fresh blood travel down her neck and onto her shirt. "It's nothing to waste your time with." He backhanded her. His rings cut the other side of her face. Her head went abruptly to the left. Her hair flew about and more stuck to the blood and sweat on her face.
He abruptly looked up to the door. He walked by and grabbed the towel at the table by his knives. He walked outside her cell. She wished so bad that she could wipe of the blood. She hated the feel of the fresh blood against her skin. She heard his voice. She tried hard and focused her eyes on the man he was with. She couldn't make out details. He wore a long purple and black robe. He massaged his left hand with his right. There was a discoloration on his finger so she assumed it was a ring of some sort. He wore a dark purple sword at his hip. She tried to focus on him, but with her swollen eyes she could barely make out details.
The torturer kept his voice down but she could still hear him easily. He was talking about her. About how long she had been in the dungeon and how far along he thought he was. At least she knew how long it had been: four days, although it had seemed like months. Then the strange man looked at her. With a hand he silenced the torturer. He smoothly walked into her cell. He must have been pretty important for her torturer to let him walk up to his assignment without a fight. He smiled at her. She hated him for it. From that moment on she knew she would hate him, without even knowing who he was she hated him more than anything. "Do you know who I am?" He asked. His voice was kind but she knew it had to be fake. She hated him. She did nothing but stare at him. "No? Well then, allow me to introduce myself. I am Galbatorix, King of Alagaёsia."
She knew why she hated him now. She gathered all the strength left in her. She knew she would pay, but she hated him. "It would be worth it," she promised herself. She would pay dearly for this, but she did the only thing she could do. She spit on him.
His smile only widened. "What have I done?" She thought.
Author's Note: So Who do you think this strange girl is? Let me know your ideas! Please review.