*Disclaimer*
I do not own anything in the Supernatural universe, only Sarah.
WARNING
This chapter contains scenes of torture. Please take caution if such topics are triggering to you.
I had a hard time waking up the next day, that is, until I felt myself being ripped from my seat. My eyes jolted open as Kara grabbed onto my shirt, pulling me up to my feet. My arms and legs were no longer strapped into the chair, and so it was a lot easier for the demon to pull me out into the larger room of the basement.
Seeing my chance to fight, I mustered up enough strength to pull myself out of the demon's grasp. Still weak from the previous day, I stumbled away from Kara and then clumsily collapsed to the floor, holding myself up on hands and knees.
"Awh, look," Kara said, and I heard her footsteps coming closer to me, "She's trying to fight back," Breathing hard, I formed my right palm into a fist and then spun as hard as I could. Luckily, Kara stepped forward at just the right time and I caught her jaw with my fist.
The demon fell backwards, fazed but not injured badly. Regaining her posture, she reached up and gingerly touched her cheek. I fell forward again, not able to hold myself up for any extended amount of time. Kara walked towards me, her joking tone gone.
"So that's how it's gonna be?" She asked, gripping my shoulder and jerking me up to face her, and I screamed in pain when her hand touched the gashes from the day before. She made a fist of her own and swung hard, hitting my temple so hard that I saw stars. I gasped for air and she swung again, landing another blow. I felt blood start to trickle down my cheek and struggled to get away from the demon, clawing at the arm that was gripped tightly on my shoulder.
Finally Kara released me and I fell onto my back, squirming and flailing as I turned onto my stomach and started pulling myself across the hard concrete floor away from the demon. After I had crawled about five feet, Kara spoke up.
"Gosh, you're so stupid," She said, and all of a sudden I felt myself being lifted up off the floor and thrown against the concrete wall. The force of the impact knocked my breath out of me, and once again I found myself gasping for air. I was in a standing position, only my feet were about two feet from the ground and my arms were pressed firmly away from my body. My head was held against the wall, but I was able to see Kara walking towards me, brandishing the butcher knife.
"You're not making this any fun, Sarah," She said, holding up her hand and forcing my back harder against the wall. I grunted at the immense amount of pressure, all the while Kara was still stalking towards me. She got to me and then reached up to unbutton my blood-stained shirt, revealing my tank top underneath. She folded it up as well, exposing my abdomen. She pressed the knife against the skin there and then gazed up at me as she made the first cut. I groaned, trying not to show emotion while she was watching my reaction.
"Listen," I gasped after she had finished with the cut, "I'm sorry-" I took in a breath "about your friends," She hesitated from placing the knife back onto my stomach and glanced up at me, "but if you're going to kill me," I breathed, "shouldn't I have a right to know why?" She looked up at me, apparently contemplating answering me. Quickly, she sliced another cut down the length of my stomach and I screamed, not expecting the sudden influx of pain.
"About twenty years ago," Kara began as I squeezed my eyes shut to try to numb the pain, "Benjamin Sumpter went hunting for demons," Through the pain, I was able to remember that Ben Sumpter was my mom's husband before she had me.
"He didn't even have a reason, you know," She went on, "he just slaughtered us all, that is, except for me." She paused, "I was the only one that made it out of that warehouse alive, go figure." Kara raised the knife again, making another slice in my side. I grunted, the cut going deeper than the others.
"He killed over eight of my friends," Kara continued, unfazed by my pain, "how could I not seek revenge on him?" I gasped and looked up at her; her gaze was fixed on something in the wall beside me, and I assumed that she was remembering what had happened.
"So I hunted him down, and I killed him. Poor guy didn't even see me coming," She smirked at the wall, and then her gaze shifted to me, "I was content, at least, for a while," Her smile dropped, "and then I couldn't help but think that one life taken doesn't even begin to compare to the lives that he took."
"And then I found out that he had a wife, and a daughter!" She smiled again at me. "So I waited, and then I killed Marcie." I met her gaze evenly, even though I could barely manage it myself.
"And you know what, Sarah?" She asked, and then moved closer to me, until her mouth was right by my ear, "I saved the best for last."
Back in South Dakota, the boys were still searching for any signs of Sarah.
"Yes," Dean said into the receiver of his cell phone, "I'd like to report a missing car," He explained, and then waited for a reply.
"1969 Chevy Camaro, red, license plate number SPA 510." He listed for the operator. "It's my cousins'," He went on as he paced around the kitchen, "She ran away from home last night and we're trying to find where she went." He paused, "Yes, well keep me updated. Thanks." He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the table, rubbing his hand over his chin.
"I don't see why we have to do this," He said louder, walking into the library where Bobby and Sam were sitting, "reporting her car is last resort."
"Son," Bobby said, "This is last resort."
"We're doing everything we can," Sam said, and Dean turned to face his younger brother.
"Then do something else!" He said harshly, "Because we're not any closer to finding Sarah." Everyone remained silent until Sam spoke up again.
"I'll try her phone again, but I doubt I'll get anything," He explained, reaching over to grab his own cell phone off of the end table beside the couch. He dialed Sarah's number while Bobby and Dean continued talking.
"Do you think she's…" Dean trailed off, unable to finish his thought. His expression shifted into a softer one, but also a sadder one.
"Dean," Bobby said shortly, "don't you start talking like that." Dean turned to look out the window, his gaze not focused on any one thing in particular.
"It's just, why would she leave if she expected to come back?" He questioned as Sam pulled the phone away from his ear.
"Hey," He said, and the two men looked over at him, "She's still not picking up, but the call went to voicemail instead of saying the line was disconnected."
"What does that mean?" Bobby asked.
"It means that her phone's on," Dean said, turning and walking over to his brother, "And that means that we can track it."
A/N: Sorry this one is a little late, my first day of classes was today and I didn't get a chance to get on.
