To a Goblin's Delight
Part II: Chapter 3: A Moment and Nothing More.
Pain
Seconds, minutes, hours.
Moments in time.
Random, unpredictable,
Lasting forever.
How many moments can you endure? How much torture can the body withstand?
How much can a mind take before it breaks?
Evey raised her head slowly, feeling the muscles in the back of her neck scream in protest. She did not need to look at her reflection to know her body was covered in bruises. She could feel each and every one of them. On her neck she knew she would find the perfect print of a hand where it had grasped her, slamming her head into the toilet and holding it there. The fingers had dug into her flesh with an iron grip, refusing to relent.
It was not the bruises, the burns, or the broken bones which bothered her. It was the torment of the unyielding voice which she could not tolerate. It was the hushed whispers that came to her during her moments of torture. They always came when he was near. Real or imaginary, she no longer knew. One moment there was silence and then the whispers began, coming at her like the tide, breaking her barriers and washing away her sanity.
I knew him as a boy. I can tell you what he looked like. I can, I can. I was there. I was at Larkhill. My father was his jailer. He was his Rossiter, I am yours. I am, I am, I am. I wasn't supposed to be there, no, no, no… but I was. I saw what they did. Do you want to know? Do you? Do you? DO YOU?
The whispers were the greatest pain.
A body can heal leaving only scars as a reminder. An arm can break and the bones will mend. The fabrics of sanity can be ripped to shreds, but it cannot be restored. It cannot be sewn together…whole again. It becomes a patchwork of ideas, notions, memories, and moments, held together by tiny, perishable threads which fray and crumple in time.
Evey lifted her eyes to the man holding her down as he lowered his cigarette to her arm, and spat in his face.
VEV
Gordon Dietrich sat at the piano attempting to play. His body still ached, even though it had been a little over a week since he had been beaten and thrown down the flight of stairs. The injuries to his body had not been bad. He could never be in television again, his face was ruined, but there were other things he could do. He had other skills.
When the revolution had finally occurred, when V had succeeded, they would need men like Gordon. They would need someone who knew how to reach out to the masses and spread the word of truth.
A deep chuckle sounded within his chest. "Prothero. I could be the next big ass of London. Let's hope I am not as loud or as obnoxious." He looked at the keyboard, pressing in keys. His fingers were stiff and bruised, but he could play.
He wasn't worried about his host finding him at the piano. He saw the man very rarely. The first morning when he had awoken to find himself in the Shadow Gallery, he knew instantly V was completely mad. The man had paced in front of him, snapping out questions like gunfire, and becoming more aloof with each answer. Whatever vestiges of V's sanity that remained were cracking and falling away in his worry for Evey. He had been more terrifying than any Fingerman could have ever thought of being.
V had left him alone after that, only appearing occasionally as he crossed through the Gallery and disappeared behind locked doors. Gordon knew he was searching for his lady. He could tell by the growing list of disappearances and brutal deaths on the nightly news. V was clearly removing anyone who stood between him and his love and was killing without mercy. If they were going to take Evey from him, then he would make them pay and pay dearly.
It had been useless to attempt to talk to the man. V's focus was absolute. Somehow, his search for Evey and his vendetta had become as one. He could not continue the one without the other. As his fingers floated over the keyboard, Gordon thought again about the best approach to telling V that Evey was probably dead. And yet, how could he tell V the bad news without incurring this wrath and being slain himself?
VEV
The young Fingerman leaned against the bar, eyeing the fit looking man sitting in the corner. Ordering a pint, he approached the stranger.
"Oi. You've been watching me. Any reason why?"
The man smiled. "Reasons? There are always reasons. The world revolves around reasons, but do I really need a reason to watch you?"
The young man nodded, smiling shyly to himself before casting a guarded look around the room. "Only one reason I can think of."
The man's head tilted. "I agree. There is only one reason I can think of as well." Without another word or glance, the man stood and dropped money on the table before making his way out the door.
Walking slowly and as casually as possible, the young Fingerman gulped down his pint and set the empty glass on the counter. "Got to take a piss Mike, be back in a bit." Turning on his heel, he headed out the door.
VEV
"Good morning, Miss Hammond. What shall we do today?" Her torturer smiled, showing his perfectly whitened teeth at her. "I am in the mood to play. What about you? Do you want to play with me today?"
Stooping, he grabbed her by the arm, hauling her roughly to her feet. "What shall it be? The hose? Yes, yes, the hose is fun, isn't it? You do like the hose don't you?"
As he spoke, his hand ran down Evey's back and across her arse, cupping it viciously and shoving her against his body. "You do soooo like the hose." With a sadistic smirk he released her, letting her drop to the ground.
"Why, Miss Hammond, can't stand on your own feet today?"
From the floor, Evey glared, her mouth trying to open to speak.
"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Kneeling he touched to side of her swollen face. "Don't worry, the swelling will go down in a couple of days. You shouldn't have spat on me. No, no, no. Your really shouldn't have. You shouldn't have made me hit you so hard. Can't eat like this can you? No, no, no, you can't eat, so you are weak. Weak, weak, weak." A light appeared in his eyes. "You cannot eat so you are weak and now you cannot speak." Laughter erupted, echoing around the small room. "Can't speak, can't speak, so what do we do? How do I interrogate you?"
Taking a syringe from his pocket, he held it up for Evey to see. "I will give you a little something. It will make you feel better and help this go down." He touched her jaw again before taking her arm and plunging the needle into her flesh. "You must be able to eat. We can't have you so weak. We can't have you not able to speak." Again he laughed.
"Today my dear, I am a poet, in case you didn't know it." Pulling the needle from her arm, he slipped it back into his pocket and caressed the side her face. "You like poets don't you? I knew one once. He was a gardener and a prisoner. He knew everything from sonnets to the paths of comets. He had been a great man, but you know him as something much lesser."
Standing, he went to the door and spoke to the guards before closing it. Turning, he smiled at Evey. "I know a game we could play today. I do, I do. The game can be played in silence. No reason to speak, no, no, no. "
Crossing back to Evey, he stood above her watching her eyes fight to stay open. "For this game you do not even have to be awake. No, no. This is a game for me to enjoy. I like this one." Dropping to his knees, he reached out his hand and grabbed her face, squeezing the battered jaw. Eyes flying open, Evey tried to scream as tears coursed from her eyes.
With one hand holding her face, Rossiter let the other fall to his crotch and unzip his trousers.
VEV
The young Fingerman walked causally into alleyway next to the bar, unzipping his pants as he went. He was hard already. Just the thought of the stranger's mouth sucking him off was enough to get him ready.
With a grin, he nodded to the man who stood waiting patiently in the shadows and stepped into the darkness.
VEV
Pain. The feeling, the emotion, which lets you know you are still alive.
Evey didn't know how much longer she was going to survive. She had lost track of the days she had been held in the cell and forced to live in her own filth.
The Shadow Gallery was like a dream. She wasn't even certain if it was real anymore or if it had all been a dream. When images of it floated to her mind, it brought brief sensations of warmth and happiness. When she thought of the Shadow Gallery, when she thought of V, she could remember feeling safe and secure. She could remember feeling loved.
Such a child. Such a god damned, fucking child. That Evey is gone, babe. She's dead and gone. Dead as you're going to be. Any day now he is going to kill you.
The man on top of her grunted, his muscles flexing as he strained, increasing his rhythm.
You are not going to amuse him for too much longer. He is going to get tired of raping you. It's the only thing keeping you alive. The fact he likes to fuck you is what keeps him from killing you.
She could feel his body tighten, preparing itself for release.
Maybe he is waiting. Maybe he is waiting for V to come and rescue you. The only problem is V is not going to want you when he finds out this creature has had you... He will kill you himself. He isn't going to want someone who has been turned into nothing more than a dirty jailer's whore.
Hands clamped on to her shoulders and the grunting noises grew louder as she felt hot liquid squirt into her body. He lurched once, twice again, before finally finishing.
V will never want you again. His Evey Hammond is dead and only you remain.
VEV
V circled the young man slowly, his hands clasped behind his back and the click of his boots drowning out the sounds of moans.
"I believe I asked you a question."
"I don't know," he gasped painfully. "I don't know where they took her."
"Liar," he stated calmly.
The knife blade flashed and a deep cut appeared in the body of the man hanging from the ceiling.
"I shall cut you to shreds. I shall do it slowly and precisely. You will bleed to death over a course of days, but believe me, it will be agonizing. I will make you suffer. So, I ask again. Where is she?"
"I don't know." V's hand moved and the man's scream erupted in the room.
"She is in your facility. I need to know what floor she is being held on."
Tears ran from the captive's eyes as he tried to calm his fear and bite back his pain. "I don't know."
Again there was a scream as a dull blade sliced through flesh.
"Oh please stop. Please, God, stop."
V looked at the bleeding body before him, his head tilting to the side. "I am no God." The blade flashed.
"Rossiter. Rossiter has her. I don't know where." He could no longer hold back the tears. The boy let them come. With a wail he began to weep for the end of his life, praying it would come soon.
"Rossiter?"
V held his blade.
"Yes… Rossiter. He has her. Please. Please let me go. I don't know where, I swear."
"Rossiter."
The blade flashed and the young man screamed.
VEV
Gordon was surprised when V walked into the kitchen. He wasn't certain if he should speak or not, so he waited and watched. He knew something had happened. He could tell by the slow, lethargic movements of the man's body. He knew from the way V sat the teapot on the burner and mechanically removed the makings for tea from the cupboard.
Something earth shattering had occurred. The question was, what was it?
"Can I help you?" asked Gordon at last.
V turned slowly.
"No."
"Has something happened?"
"Yes."
Gordon nodded. He already knew something had.
"May I ask what?"
For several moments V was silent, the mask staring aimlessly at the kettle, hiding the expression of the man in its casing.
"V?"
He turned; the kettle in his hand.
"I found her."
VEV
The power sprays hit her hard, making her cry out in pain.
In an odd way, she was happy he had decided to take her to the sprayers after all. At least his scent would be off of her. Her skin would be raw and painful, but his scent would be gone.
Pulling back on the chains she tried to shift her legs. If she could raise one, if the water jets could hit her in just the right way, maybe she could wash his seed away. Evey turned, but it was impossible to do.
I survived another moment. I survived. She turned her face and looked directly into the spray.