A/N: Potentially disturbing scenes to follow that include thoughts of death and suicide. Please be warned and aware of your triggers if you choose to proceed.
Chapter 7: Saved by the Devil
Elaine
I thanked the stars for my quick and merciful death. I couldn't feel the bruises, the aching joints, or the welts anymore. Come to think of it I couldn't feel anything. I just slipped away, like a dying star that vanished in the black sky.
If Hux had his way, it would have been slow and agonizing. He would have kept me alive as long as he could, forcing me to stay awake, ensuring I had just enough nutrition left in my body to keep going as I awaited the end. He loved it when I begged, and he would see to it that my last words to him were pleading for death.
I suppose I needed to thank the black creature for following through with the act. Though I did not appreciate how he butchered Silas, the only person I'd recently met to see my situation for what it was and oppose it. I could never forgive that monster, but I would excuse him for doing me this kindness.
Memories flooded the void as I floated in the darkness. It was like sleeping, but I didn't feel grounded to anything. I hovered in the dark as visions from my life carried over in bright flashes. Recollections of Pheme brushing my hair, Mama spanking me when I spilled juice on her floor, Pheme's auction night as I saw her for the last time, Hux sitting on his tub while he forced soap down my throat, all replayed in bright, brief bursts that exploded in the voices of the past.
Was this all my life amounted to? What was the point of all that suffering? The madness of it all made me want to scream.
The reflections of terrors continued as the scenes shifted. I was forced to witness a smaller version of myself cry herself to sleep at Mama's, her tears lit by the bright neon flooding in from the window. The large, black demon cast a shadow in my dreams as I watched Silas's body twitch in mid-air before the sickening snap as his neck splintered. Loud rumbles of cries shook the void as the visions intensified.
I can't watch this anymore.
I recognized my younger self straining against my captors as they dragged me against the floor, my feet unsuccessful in stopping them as they overpowered me. The scene erupted in a bright flash of light as I beheld the night I received my tattoos; the two brothers hunkered over me while my wails rang out into the abyss.
Suddenly, everything warped around me until I was dragged deeper into that memory. With a vibrant flash of light, I relived that moment as if I was experiencing it all over again.
I touched the metal table beneath me; the abrupt contrast in actually touching something compared to the nothingness I felt when in the abyss was jarring to me. The gun's piercing buzz shook in my skull as the eldest brother tattooed my chest.
"Please!" I begged. "Please, it hurts too much."
What's going on? Why was I reliving this moment?
"That's it," the larger man stood like clockwork to restrain my ankles and wrists.
"No, no! Stop it! I can't do anymore, please!" I cried.
Every detail was exactly as I remembered. Everything except one thing that stood out of place. On the other side of the table loomed a figure that had not been there before. He was tall, hooded, and dawned the helmet of the monster that killed Silas. Just as I remembered him, he appeared in the vision to be so real that I could've reached out and touched him. He looked on in silence and remained motionless as the nightmare played out in front of him.
"We're losing her," the younger brother slapped my cheek as my eyesight became hazy.
"Good— it's easier when they do," the eldest grunted.
As my view became completely blurred my thoughts echoed around the room as if I shouted them. Pheme, please, help me.
It ended instantaneously as the masked demon, the brothers, and the high-pitched buzzing were replaced by the black void yet again. Is this what happens to you in death? I always envisioned it like an eternal, dreamless sleep where your old life trickled away like droplets sliding on a windowpane. Instead, I relived everything that I wanted so desperately to forget and leave behind. If I was dead, why was I plagued with visions of that monster infiltrating my memories? Could you still dream your worst nightmares even in the depths of death?
I knew something was wrong when I imagined an entirely new nightmare. It was just like a dream: hazy with some of the details missing. Yet I could've sworn I felt the silky sheets beneath me as if I clutched them in my own hands.
I hallucinated that I awoke in a bed. My eyes opened, but my vision remained fuzzy as I lay motionless, scared to move. Out of instinct, I suddenly and violently flung my body off the bed as if it became hot and scorched my skin.
I am not allowed on the bed! My eyes darted around the room frantically hoping that Hux didn't see my discretion. My heart hammered in my chest as I awaited his reprimand.
When I crashed onto the cold floor beside the bed I glanced down at my body, clothed in a blue fabric.
No, no, no! I didn't put this on! I tore at it furiously, afraid of the punishment I would receive. My pulse ran cold when I heard the footprints thudding across the floor in my direction.
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm so sorry, please," the words poured out of my mouth like a flood as I clawed at the garment. "Please, I'm sorry!"
My apologies evolved into screams of terror as the masked monster poised at the foot of the bed, just as silent as ever, his glare locked on me.
"No! No, please!" I retreated into the corner between the wall and nightstand as he rushed over me. Who would be worse: Hux or the demon?
The dream came to an end when he raised his hand to my face. When he did, I plunged into the dark space yet again. Something about that dream left me unsettled. Whether it was the vividness or the monster that shook me to my core, I slowly began to piece together that I may not have died as I had so hopefully assumed.
When I first awoke, I prayed that I was dreaming again. I wanted so desperately to slip back into the depths and leave this world and its cruelty behind. But like most things in my life, I was quickly disappointed.
As I roused, my body impolitely reminded me of what pain was and how much it hurt. Everything from my jaw to my neck to my knees ached and groaned as I awoke. I tried to swallow. My mouth and throat scratched like coarse sandpaper and caused me to wince. Air flowed shallow and steady into my lungs as my chest rose and fell under the blankets that covered me. I fought the urge to tear them off as I did in my nightmare, remembering how that played out for me.
I permitted my eyelids to flutter open as my eyes adjusted to the light. I sucked in a deep breath, realizing my fear was true: I was very much alive. For a brief moment, I thought I would cry in anguish as my life-long torment continued, the taste of freedom in the abyss still lingering on my tongue.
I sat up gradually, wincing as I shifted my weight against the pillows. Once my eyesight returned, I took in my surroundings. I was in Hux's room, the same large bed with the same furniture, though the large window in the back that looked out into space was gone.
Of course, he would take away the one thing that I—
I froze mid-thought and my stomach heaved as my eyes settled upon him. He was perched on a leather chair at the foot of the bed, his weight leaned forward as his elbows rested on his knees. His large, leather hands were clasped together between his legs, and his black robes wrapped around his massive frame. A hood draped over his head which was enclosed in a black, expressionless helmet that intently gazed upon me.
We stared in silence at each other for what felt like hours as one waited for the other to make the first move. I didn't dare speak or shift an inch in the bed, anticipating him to speak first.
"You're not going to tumble out of bed again, are you?" his hollow, altered voice broke the stillness.
My eyebrows furrowed. It wasn't a dream, I concluded. I silently shook my head in response.
"Good," he approved of my answer.
I only allowed my eyes to dart from him to various points in the room, then back to him again as I searched for ears perked for any hint of his clicking heels or that slimy voice.
"He's not here," the monster picked up on my concern.
I hesitated, suspicious of my new captor.
"He isn't allowed to see you," he continued, his figure intimidating and motionless. "You're safe."
"You're here," I retorted raspily, my throat burning uncomfortably as my mouth came to life.
He puffed slightly as if he smirked under the helmet. "You don't feel safe with me?"
Of course, I don't, I retorted. "No."
His head cocked slightly to the side. "Why?"
Because you murdered my only friend and ally that I had in this godforsaken prison, I snapped. "You killed Silas."
His head held at an angle while he thought it over. "The sergeant?"
Yes, the fucking sergeant who was trying to protect me from that bastard! I wanted to yell at him. "He was my friend."
"He attacked a general," the monster rebutted.
That 'general' was attacking me, I growled. I bit the inside of my lower lip instead of verbally disputing him. During the break of our discussion, he stood up from his chair, forcing a wave of uneasiness to crash over me as I eyed him cautiously. He stepped around the chair over to the sink in the far corner of the room. Anxiously, I waited to determine if I needed to prepare myself to fight back. He thudded across the room, his boots far heavier than Hux's polished, dainty shoes on the tile floor. I curled back into the pillows, my eyes locked on him until he stood at the bedside and held out a glass of water.
Bewildered, I hesitated before accepting it. I watched him over the glass while I brought it to my lips and welcomed the cool liquid into my parched throat. Without a response he turned, his robes fluttering around his ankles as he returned to his chair at the foot of the bed.
"What is your name?" he asked eagerly.
Why should I tell you? I scoffed and set the glass down on the nightstand next to me. "Why didn't you let me die?"
He paused at this as if he needed time to process my question. "Why should I?"
Because I want to be free, my heart squeezed in my chest. "It would have been a kindness to me."
He sat up slightly in his seat. "I'm afraid I can't do that."
"Then you truly are a monster," I blurted out.
I could practically hear him smirking underneath the layer of metal. "How would you know?"
"Because you would let a creature suffer in agony until it ends when you have the power to put it out of its misery," I explained as my eyes narrowed at him.
His only movement was his shoulders that rose and fell with his breath as he considered this.
"No," he finally declared. "If given the chance, the creature may rise from its wounds more powerful and lethal than before," he sat back in his seat as he carried on. "No, to execute the suffering creature would be to ensure its life was lived in vain; everything that they endured, the pain they felt, would be for nothing."
My upper lip twitched with intrigue. "So you'll help me kill Hux?"
At this, he chuckled under his breath, one of the first signs of actual life from behind the mask. "As much as it would please me to witness your revenge on Hux, I'm afraid that's not possible."
Figures, I grumbled. "Then why did you save me?"
He hesitated before replying. "Because it was the right thing to do."
I couldn't suppress my chuckle as I winced from the ache in my ribs.
"You find this comical?" he sounded insulted.
Of course, I do, I snorted. "I find it comical that you use the same breath to explain why killing Silas and saving me were the right thing to do."
He tensed at this while I took another sip of the water, its coolness soothing my raw throat.
"How long have I been asleep?" I asked aloud.
"Two days."
I could barely wrap my mind around sleeping for that long. I glanced down to recognize the blue fabric that dressed me. I thought back to my nightmare when I tried to rip it off of my body in fear of Hux's wrath.
"Did you put this on me?" I quizzed.
"The nurses took care of it."
Relieved, I felt safer that he hadn't laid his hands on me. Though, I couldn't help but recall the position and state I was in when he first saw me. My cheeks blushed at the thought.
I was conflicted. I didn't know what to do with the kindness he'd shown me. I couldn't shake the resentment I felt towards him, the fear that developed in my nightmares of him.
"What is your name?" he asked again.
"Why do you care?" I was tired of the pleasantries with my nightmare demon. Perhaps if I provoked him enough he would grant my wish.
"Because I need to know who I vowed to protect," he replied simply.
"What does that mean?" my eyebrows furrowed, puzzled.
He struggled to find the right words to explain it. "I vowed to you that I would protect you until you can operate on your own."
I don't need you. I narrowed my eyes. "I can operate on my own just fine."
"Not yet," he stated. "But you will."
"And what's your vow say then?" I quipped. "When I'm all healed you just hand me back over to Hux?"
"You will not be returned to Hux," he insisted.
"I don't have a choice," I clarified.
His head tilted again.
I sighed and shifted my gaze to where the window would have been in Hux's room. "I'm a courtesan. I was raised in a courtesan house for one purpose, to be sold at auction. General Hux placed the highest bid. He owns me by contract," I swallowed, unable to look him in the eye. "I belong to him."
I heard a noise that sounded like leather creaking and turned to see his gloved hands had clenched tightly into fists on his knees. "The contract is nullified," he asserted.
"It doesn't work like that," I retorted.
"It does now," he stood from his seat again.
"You can't do anything about it," I grumbled, exasperated.
"You have no idea what I can do," his voice hung menacingly in the air for a while until I looked up at him again.
"Look, Hux submitted the highest bid. He's the one I'm branded for," I lifted my hair and tilted my head to demonstrate the scarred mark of ownership just behind my ear.
I heard him huff under the mask as if he tried to contain himself. "Is that the purpose of those markings?" he motioned with his chin in my direction. I safely assumed he implied the tattoos that adorned my body.
I nodded with a piece of my lip tucked between my teeth. "When a courtesan is purchased, the owner chooses the designs," I felt my cheeks become hot again. "They are a visual declaration that I am acknowledged as property. His property."
Before he could respond, a device chirped from within his robes. He dug into his pocket to retrieve a tiny appliance that he held up to his helmet.
"What is it?" he barked into the mouthpiece.
Innocently, I pretended not to listen and tilted my head down to avert my gaze.
"Uh, sir," a faint and fearful voice stammered from the object. "We've got a situation on the bridge. A prisoner's escaped."
His head snapped to me before he responded to the voice. "I'll be there momentarily." He shoved the communication device back into his pocket and rapidly turned to leave.
"Stay here," he instructed over his shoulder before the automatic doors to his chambers shut behind him.
I was left alone in his bed, presumably locked in his chambers. And while I felt an overwhelming sense of disdain towards him, I trusted him. He could have treated me just like every other male in my life had, as an object whose only purpose was to serve them on my knees and beg for their approval.
Instead, he made some kind of vow to protect me from the man that damn near killed me. There were still many questions that made me feel uneasy: why did he care so much about helping me, and how was he able to hold Silas and me in the air like that? I had just as many questions about him as I'm sure he had for me. The confusion that spun around in my brain made me dizzy when I tried to sort it out.
Somehow exhausted from my encounter with the monster, I settled back under the covers and pressed my cheek into the silk pillowcase. I despairingly longed for Pheme's scent to help me sleep and missed the relaxing feeling of her comb running through my hair. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander back to my guardian demon; a monster who hinted that there may still be kindness in even the darkest places.
