**Warning: This chapter is a bit dark and deals with abusive situations**
A throbbing in her head pulled Mar awake, though, her eyes remained shut and heavy as her consciousness returned slowly. A nausea in her stomach was painfully evident but as she moved her hands to rub the drowsiness from her face, they didn't budge. A panic set in and she pulled again, realizing both hands were taught behind her back, and her eyes flung open, the cold gray room snapping into focus. Mar's stomach twisted into a knot as she hastily scanned the room trying to figure out where the hell she was and how the hell she got there. Her eyes came to settle on a pile of pillows in the corner, the book she had been reading thrown to the side where she'd left it and she soon realized the familiarity within the concrete walls—her basement. Mar let out a deep and exhausted groan as she looked around again, sniffing and blinking tightly. Mar's eyes danced over the red paint on the walls. A myriad of spray painted symbols covered the place as if whoever put them there copied everything they'd read in lore. And in an instant she knew. She knew they weren't there to keep her in but to keep something else out and her heart dropped into her stomach. It was if someone had turned on an old camera, projecting it on the walls in a sepa filter inside her head, as the memory of her room spinning and blacking near the foot of her bed out played repeatedly. 'Fuck' she thought 'fuck'. Mar pushed herself forward with mild force but the chair she was in didn't budge and the duct tape on her hands just pulled uncomfortably on her skin. A loud clang of a door was followed by quick footsteps, as Mar snapped her head up to the basement entrance, only to see her father, clad in jeans and a clean white shirt, saunter into the room.
"What the fuck," A sudden anger and disgust sounded in Mar's voice as Jack looked up at her, slightly surprised to find her awake. He only surveyed her as she sat there, his expression fading to one of sadness that only pissed Mar off more. She pulled against her restraints again, only making the legs of the chair screech across the floor about a centimeter. "You drugged me?"
"Mar, listen to me. It's for your own good," His featured remained somber as he gazed at her, slowly trying to explain.
"What is?" She questioned with a venom trickling throughout her tone, "Why am I tied up in the basement?"
"You're corrupted," He responded simply, earning a furrowed brow from Mar.
"I'm what?" Her anger lessened as a confusion took hold. Jack didn't explain any further. He didn't even say another word before walking back upstairs, leaving her tied in the center of the basement. Mar groaned again, briefly considering calling after him but her thoughts were sidetracked. Her mind quickly turned to Lucifer. Was he still outside the diner? Fuck, how long has she even been down there? It could have been a couple hours or a couple days. She had no way of knowing. Part of her considered praying but something inside her told her the damn sigils on the wall wouldn't let him hear her. The footsteps sounded again and Mar's eyes found themselves latched once more the the door. Jack carried in a large bag and,retrieving something from it, threw it down near the threshold. He walked over to her and Mar opened her mouth to speak but stopped as water was splashed over her face.
"I'm not possessed," Mar spat out a bit of holy water indignantly.
"You should've hoped you were. That way we could get rid of it." Jack's sad expression had apparently seeped into his voice.
"Get rid of what? What the fuck is wrong?" Mar's impatience grew as she furrowed her brow again, speckled with water droplets.
"What's wrong?" Jack half screamed half growled at her, as his face became red, the calmness of before recklessly abandoned. She was a bit taken aback as she stared at him, standing not even a foot from her. "You bonded with the Devil! You have sold your soul! Your are evil Mar, evil!" Tears fell from his eyes but his harsh tone remained and a sharp emotional dagger struck her.
"I'm not evil," She nearly pleaded with him, her voice growing compassionate and soft, "It's difficult to explain. I know you think of things a certain way but I promise you He isn't what you think he is. Neither am I and I sure as hell haven't sold my soul." He searched her face as his tears kept falling down his cheeks. Jack didn't speak or even really move for a few minutes but eventually he wiped his eyes and moved back to his bag.
"It's gonna be ok, Mar. I'm gonna make it ok," He attempted to sound reassuring but Mar found her eyes locked on the silver blade he plucked from the bag.
"What the hell is that for?" Mar asked but she feared that she knew as her mouth grew dry and her fists tightened in the restraints.
"Penance," He simply responded and his tears, now a steady stream, began to act as fuel to her now boiling cocktail of fear and anger.
"My mistake, I didn't realize you were born in 1600s boston," Mar attempted to sound firm but she couldn't help but push herself tensely to the back of the chair, the rough wood scratching at any exposed skin it touched.
Mar glanced over at the cuts rising up both arms and inhaled sharply at the sting. Every breath was staggered and her throat raw. She couldn't help but think that if the duct tape did come off it would take her skin with it. 'Thank God the basement is warm,' She thought as the third bucket of holy water dripped from her hair.
"How are you," She hadn't even notice Jack walk in and Mar merely glared at him as he loomed over her.
"Come to make my ears bleed with your latin?" She spat as he simply forced a closed lipped smile and lifted a cup to her.
"Drink," Mar didn't break her glare, ignoring the water, "I don't want you dehydrated."
"Sorry, you don't want me thirsty but your fine with drenching me, tying me in a basement, and cutting my arms?" Maybe it was sarcasm instead of water that was dripping from her hair.
"I love you. This is for your good that doesn't mean you need to die of thirst." She told herself it was to get him to leave but she gulped the water down.
"So, tell me, if I've sold my soul how does drenching me in water help?" Mar raised her eyebrow at him as her jaw clenched. Jack returned her mockery was a sad look, pinching the bridge of his nose, before disappearing as his footsteps echoed up the stairs.
Mar wasn't entirely sure but by the gnawing her stomach she guessed about five days had passed. Five days, drenched and hungry as fuck. Her shoulders were tense and shifted in the chair. Mar stopped, cockering her head at the chair leg wobbled. She moved again. It moved again. For the first time since she woke up down there she smiled just as Jack strode in with a clang of the basement door.
"Dad," Her voice sounded hoarse and dry, "I know it seems you plan on starving me but could I have some water." That somber expression he seemed to always wear was plastered on his face and he nodded before retrieving a glass of water. With a swift kick, the chair leg broke and Mar toppled over backwards. Jack stepped forward instinctively and Mar heaved both feet upwards and into his chest, knocking his breath out as he fell to the ground. She pulled with everything she had, twisting her wrists to break her hands free and scrambled to her feet just as he had. Reaching for the chair she connected it with his face, another leg popping off as it collided with his collar bone. He wasn't getting back up after that. Mar breathed heavily, trying to ignore the cramp in her side as she checked to make sure Jack still had a pulse. Pleased, with the steady beat she made her way up the stair, only stopping to grab her already packed bags, before making a beeline to the car. Her mind spun and seemed like it was filled with tv static as she pulled out of the drive way, her heart still pounding out of her chest.