Chapter Twelve- Disillusioned
The hunger pangs came first. They drove themselves to the front of the line, and as time passed, they soon became my first priority. All I had to do was keep myself calm enough to fend off his sadistic teasing. I was already successful for the first few days. In an effort to keep me in a disheveled, chaotic state of mind, he would make small cuts on LadyDevimon's arms. The scent of her blood would linger in the air for hours, even after he was finished with us, and it kept me on high alert. It wasn't until my fourth day that I began to sense how strong the bloodlust truly was.
My father came in once more, but this time, he was not alone. Accompanying him was an Angewomon who was—dare I say it—stunning. My eyes lingered to LadyDevimon, an uneasy glance present on her face. The Angewomon, with her ubiquitous compassion, ran to her doppelganger first. My only hope was that she could free my beloved, but I knew it was a long shot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the monster smirk with delight as the two girls interacted with one another. I wish to never know what he was thinking, for only the perverse deviants would understand.
Hesitantly, she made her way over to me. I could sense the wave of dread she felt as she approached. Her tentative nature was, well… natural. I was forced to keep myself in check, for I could smell that my father had bitten her early in the morning. The dried blood… I mustn't. The taste would not be worth it; his venom tainted the sweet liquid. Yet when she craned her head over to check behind my chair for a cord or switch, I held my breath.
It was unavoidable. I shouldn't, I couldn't, but I knew that holding myself out and keeping myself starved would be a more excruciating death than just begging for mercy. My pride and ambition is what kept me this way. The fact that I would never allow myself to succumb to my father's cruelty kept me alive. And of course, I had an obligation, a promise to uphold. Not just for LadyDevimon and my child, but to myself.
Never would I allow myself to die begging for my life like a slave. I had been there once before, and there was no way in Hell I would die like one. Never…
I twitched, belligerently combating the urge to fade away again, no matter how pleasing it would be to relive one of my conquered hells instead of this one. I noticed how the Angewomon gaped at my father, completely horrified by what she had observed. Finally, she spoke, "Why? Why have you brought me here, Vladimir?" With no response from him, she frantically searched for an answer in her limitless questions. "Am I next? What did I do to upset you? If I've done anything to you, I'm sorry, but please… don't kill me!" She fell to her knees, begging with all her might.
It was useless now. She was his. There was no hope for LadyDevimon and me.
He took on a priest-like façade and solaced, "Arise, child. You have nothing to fear, for these heathens brought it upon themselves." It seemed that the Angewomon was relieved by his words, and I was honestly stumped by what I had just witnessed. How could she have been so daft? Foolish angels, in all their innocence… the fallen are much more astute.
Infuriated by his words, LadyDevimon shot back a warning to her counterpart, "Don't listen to him! He's a freakin' liar who will use you to his advantage! If you know what's good for you, you'll run!" Angewomon didn't have a chance, for the second she turned to face the door, she faced my father instead, who was blocking the only exit.
"You don't honestly believe that little whore, do you?" He said in an eloquent, but twisted manner. Angewomon took a quick look at us; a perturbed expression was imprinted on her face, but she then instantly shook her head. He grinned, a bad sign. Again, her purity was now contaminated with his poisonous touch.
What he did next disturbed me, for even I wasn't expecting it. He lunged for her, the one who was too naive to have any qualms about him, and bit into her neck with such a force, it knocked her onto the cold, stone floor. She tried struggling, itching to get away, but his grip was like trying to bend a steel girder. Not a minute passed before he was finished with his little toy, abandoning her on the floor about three feet from my chair. The door echoed as he left the room, leaving the two of us untouched for now.
My will was faltering, as I couldn't resist the sweet aroma of liquid sugar. Her features that contorted into a look of absolute fright became etched into my mind. I couldn't care less at the time whether she was once living (or still alive?) or not. I was starving. And when one is starved, they will get their food by any means necessary.
My legs were absolutely useless, seeing as how they were chained to the chair, and I had limited movement with my arms and neck. I reached around the chair for anything I could use to pull her close when it struck me: Did he disarm me or not?
It would have been the intelligent thing to do, but for some reason, I still had my whip on me. I suppose a whip isn't much use to one who can't really move. Slowly, I pulled it off of me, since it was wrapped around my waist. I was surprised that he didn't take it, which led me to another thought: This wasn't my whip, just a cheap knock-off.
I didn't care. Cracking the whip, it landed wrapped around her arm. Not a good area, but it would hold until I pulled her over here. This was a process I had to repeat almost ten to twelve times to get her within arms reach, which came at a price as I was electrocuted again reaching down for her. My body grew numb to the pain, and after a while, it felt like a dull shock.
The second I got her up onto my lap, I began to feed. Instead of diving right for her neck, I went for her wrist instead. Her pulse was thready, yet still there, indicating that she was still alive. Her blood, though refreshingly sweet, had an acidic, bitter snap to it. As I took more than necessary, I could perceive her unspoken pleas for the nightmare to end. The silent tears rolled down her cheeks, drenched in the light of the setting sun. A tinge of remorse seeped through me, and I had figured that if he was dastardly enough to let her bleed to death, I would be benevolent enough to be her Angel of Mercy.
"No, please…" She tried to beg, but I covered her mouth softly.
"Don't be afraid of me. I'll make sure that you don't have to wait for death."
"I can't. I'm afraid to die." Her words broke my heart, touching the very depths of my soul I had thought to be nonexistent, a figment of my wretched imagination.
"Death is nothing to be feared, but in your case, embraced. You are an angel who made a mistake. Unless you did something horrific in your life, you'll be fine." She seemed to accept my words, and tried to let herself go, but her agony prevented her from dying completely.
With a ravaged mind and a heavy heart, I covered her nose with my other hand. She twitched a bit, and struggled slightly, but I tried to soothe her, to make it easier. "It's alright," I whispered, trying to dam up my emotions. I could sense the quiver in my words, and as she lied there limp, she smiled slightly, as if to give thanks for the swift death.
I held her close and hid from LadyDevimon, for I did not want her to see me in such a devastated condition. The trembling in my throat now formed into a choked sob as my own tears began to stain my outfit. The tears… I hadn't felt such a dire need to cry since I lost my mother. Sure, there were moments when tears would form and seldom roll down my cheek, but this nameless angel struck my heart so deep, but why?
Perhaps it was because of the fact that she was so much like my mother. Her naïveté, her innocence, resembled my mother too. It was conceivable that my father picked her to torture me with, since I seemed to not respond to the physical brutality LadyDevimon and I had endured. But the emotional trauma was a vicious reality I was forced to face… yet I could hardly bear it.
"Myotismon?" Her voice was unmistakable, and as I lifted my head up to face her, I tried to wipe away the tears. She sighed heavily and muttered, "Great. You're crying too?"
"Indeed I am, though I'm not proud of it." I tried to brush it off as something inconsequential; no such luck from her constant glare. I poured my heart out and said in a hush, "That Angewomon reminded me too much of my mother, and I just couldn't stop myself from breaking down. That's all, I promise you."
"Alright, if you say so." She accepted it, as I'm thankful that she did. There was more to the story than I had originally let on, but I was petrified. It was only my father, a foe that I had defeated as a child, but the emotional trauma had run so deep that it shook the very foundations of my new life.
The clanging sound down the hall traveled to my ears. He was coming back, and he had something metallic with him. I tried desperately to hide the whip from him, lest he try to take it away. I heard the clanging sound again. The only thing that I could think of my father wielding that had metal on it was a spiked whip. Not that. Anything but that…
The Angewomon had fully digitized just as he slammed the door open. I slumped in my chair and began drumming my fingers on the arm of it, acting as though I was still hungry. He threw a nasty glare at me, but I stared him down and didn't stop. In fact, just to irritate him more, I rapped on the chair louder.
He took out the whip, and I was reckless enough to sneer at him. He was starting to get a bit cocky, and all I did was match wits with him. LadyDevimon merely shook her head at me and said, "Myotismon, what do you think you're doing?" He aimed at me and I tensed, expecting the blow. What I didn't expect was her chilling scream.
Opening my eyes, I was shocked to see that he had deliberately missed me and struck her with the spiked whip instead. I winced as I saw that they had dug into the back of her calf. With a malicious smirk, he pulled them out with such ferocity; I was surprised he didn't take her whole leg along with it.
He covered her leg with a wet rag, and her screams faded into whimpers and sniffles. She bit her bottom lip so badly that it bled. My mind raced as I could only imagine what he had coated that rag in: salt water, gasoline, turpentine… the possibilities were infinite.
He eyed her slightly, and she avoided his gaze, so he turned her head to face him. Their eyes locked for a moment as her expression changed from pain to horror. What in the world was he doing to her? After a minute, he said only one word: "Well?" She glanced at me and mouthed something, and then turned to kiss him. The fire in my heart was fueled to kill him in a furious rage. He had intimidated her to do this, he must have.
Content with such a passionate kiss, he undid her chains and threw her to the floor, leaving the room in a rush. After the final echoes of the door slamming shut faded, her sobs filled the air. What had he shown her to break her like this? She couldn't hide the fact now that it was out in the open: he had broken her. Perhaps that was part (or most) of the reason why she was laying on her side, curled up in the fetal position.
"LadyDevimon… can you move?" My voice was soft as I tried coaxing her to come to me. Her sobs discontinued as she rolled over to face me, nodding her head slowly. Acting on her notion, she crawled over to me, and ripped the rag off of her leg.
"Damn salt water… it burns so badly." She curled up, leaning her tired head on my leg.
Cautiously approaching the subject, I inquired, "What did he show you?"
"At first, he told me mentally that I was going to kiss him. He probably assumed I would fight him, so he showed me a picture of your mother getting…um…" Her voice started out strong, almost matter-of-factly, but at the mention of my mother, it was inaudible. Peering into her mind, I knew exactly what she was trying not to say. She continued tentatively, "He said that if I denied him his kiss now, he would drag me back into his room and… and…"
"It's alright. I'm glad you did it, and I'm not angry with you." I couldn't let her confront that distant reality and break down anymore, so I patted her head softly.
She nudged my leg softly. "I'm so hungry. The baby won't stop kicking me."
"Don't worry, I know exactly what he needs. He needs blood too, and it will help tide you over a bit as well." She looked at me incredulously, her features soaked in skepticism. If she didn't feed, neither she nor the baby would survive, so I added, "It's the only way. Drink from me."
"Why you? You just fed. Won't I put you back in that deprived state?"
"Perhaps. But I think it's important that you drink too. Take as much as you need; after all, you are drinking for two." Still slightly shaken, she climbed up onto my lap and took her first bite. Before, to subdue the cravings, I slipped a vial of blood into her wine, but after four or five days without a drink, I'm surprised she didn't mention anything sooner.
She took more than I expected, but just as I was beginning to feel a strain on my heart, she stopped, gasping for air. With a satisfactory smile on her face, she snuggled up to me, leaning her head on my shoulders. I stared up into the deep abyss of the ceiling when I noticed that we weren't in somewhere underground, but we were in one of the infrequently used tower dungeons. Another fact that I had missed was that I didn't use them for a reason: They were easy to escape from for the average tunneling digimon. There were also secret passageways to other dungeons roomed down below the depths of the castle.
There was a rumbling from up above, and I assumed there was a storm fast approaching. My deduction was correct as I glanced around to find a few drops plopping onto the stone floors. The roofs were leaky. What a perfect feature. Tilting my own head to meet hers, I spoke softly, "LadyDevimon, don't you worry about a thing. Leave everything to me, my darling. I have a plan."
