DISCLAIMER: Alas, I won't ever own anything related to Labyrinth, David Bowie or Jim Henson and Co.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A pit of darkness…
A trade…
A lie…
She was naked— soaked with sweat, dirt and tears. The dark night was as much her enemy as the men pursuing her. The girl stumbled through the bramble and thicket, the bare soles of her feet bleeding onto the rough earth beneath. The forest did not take pity on her pathetic form; its labyrinthine obstacles rose to wrap their crooked hands around her sticky, abraded ankles.
Faster. She had to move faster. She had to escape.
Heedless of the branches tearing at her exposed, frigid flesh, she pushed through the greedy arms of the gnarled oaks. A voice called out to her—her heart stopped. Whipping her head from side to side, she searched past the gloom of the woods that surrounded her. The darkness screamed at her like a beast rearing its head before the kill, the exposed teeth threatening to rip her in two as she fled farther into its depths.
Nothing. She was alone.
Not even the wind or the moon's light penetrated the evil lurking in the late autumn air. She shivered. They were out there somewhere, but all she could hear was her own frenzied breathing, magnified by the smothering silence suffocating her at every turn. Crouching low beside a tree, she dashed at the tears lingering on her icy cheeks. Why were they doing this?
Why her?
Her chest heaved from exertion, the frost-bitten air burning her lungs with each heavy, desperate drag. She pushed her back into the damp bark of the tree; the tremors wracked as much from fear and exhaustion as they were from the cold. The pain was there too. Her feet could not carry her much farther. The shredded flesh, caked with mud and bramble, had lost all feeling hours ago when the burning throb became a numbing sting. The aching burn in her chest, the stitch in her side, and the pain lancing her frozen fingers with the slightest touch all culminated together to bare the agonizing truth: she was going to die.
A slew of hideous voices once again echoed all around her, each sounding closer and more malevolent than the last. A soft tenor cut above the others, the sound cruel and dark. It was the voice of the Devil, unleashed from the pit of fire and ash. He had come for her! "You did not think we would let you get away, did you?"
The girl screamed, despite herself, scrambling on all fours onto the forest path. Prayers flooded her mind, pulsing at the back of her throat, choking her painfully as her tears fed the earth. From the corner of her eye, she saw the glint of the moon dancing across black polished boots. Suddenly she knew all was lost. They'd caught her.
One of those boots caught her, and even as she tried to scramble for cover, she was too slow. The hard leather tip connected with her temple; her head exploded in pain, white spots—lightning—flashed behind her eyes as her body crumpled onto the forest floor.
"There, there, hush now." He crooned, kneeling beside her, gently—soothingly—brushing the hair from her bleeding face. The reverence of his touch disgusted her deep within the marrow of her bones. "Such a silly girl, thinking you could run from us. From me. You didn't really think you would win, did you?"
"Please," she begged, struggling against him to rise, "please, don't hurt me! Let me go!"
"It is too late for that. You are serving a purpose far beyond your comprehension—you should feel honored that you were chosen!" He slapped her hard, the force splitting her lip.
"You did far better than the others—three days—and for that I commend you." He hit her again, sighing in pleasure, as she wailed beneath him.
"Please, sir, please! Don't hurt me! I cannot bear it any longer!" she begged, the words slurring through her tears and blood as she dragged her exposed body along the unforgiving earth, desperate to be away from him. "God have mercy!" The men were pleased with her cries of blind terror, chuckling at her words. Each watched with fixed fascination as their leader continued to draw whimpers from her swollen lips. "I swear I won't tell a soul what happened! Please! PLEASE!"
With a grunt to his companions—his accomplices—her arms were forced above her head while coarse rope pulled taut against her wrists and ankles. Suddenly, she was snapped to her feet, the jarring motion making her head spin in agony as they pulled her roughly against the nearest tree. Her stomach churned as the ropes creaked and tightened above and below while they bound her to the trunk, straight as an arrow. The cold, the shock, and the fear of it all culminated until violent quaking overtook her body with enough force to shake the barren branches overhead.
The leader stepped forward; the moonlight reflected the wicked glint in his eyes as he smiled.
"The hunt, while exciting and wild, is for their amusement, and in some part my own. But this," he whispered, pulling a strange blade from his coat, caressing it along the curve of her stomach and across the plane of her hips. "This is for me, alone."
Her screams shattered the stillness of the night; the apathetic moon and stars looked impassively on the scene from their removed place in the heavens. The leader's men stood in wide a semi-circle around him and watched in delight, borrowing his twisted pleasure and claiming it for their own. The cries and wails rose to a fever pitch before they crescendoed in a final scream that was abruptly swallowed by a heavy silence, and the usual tranquility returned to the forest as if nothing amiss had occurred in its hollows.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review!