A Darkness That Torments You
The room was spacious, plenty of gothic decoration and enough gloom to make the darkest shadows seem bright. There were windows with unbreakable glass, looking out on a landscape that Nora could have sworn that she painted before. Snowy mountains, an evergreen forest, and a frozen lake. Dark clouds and falling snow... she recognized the portrait. "A Slumbering December", she had called it.
He said that she had magic. One of those powers was healing, yes... but could one of them be the ability to foresee things? It would certainly make sense to her... she was looking at the real slumbering December, wasn't she? And even the movie her parents had rented about Hades and Persephone: a creature from Hell kidnapping a woman to be his bride... that's what was happening now, wasn't it?
Nora had tried to break down the locked door. She smashed a chair, took the broken leg and proceeded to stab at it, only to have it snap in half after the fifth try. When she chucked the leg across the room in aggreviation, she found herself gaping at the fixed chair that had been rebuilt within seconds. It was as if she had never even touched it...
Nora didn't take well to being kidnapped. One of her greatest fears was being in the clutches of a madman. In fact, one of the most frightening horror movies she had watched was The Silence of the Lambs. She hated Buffallo Bill with a passion, the way he was kidnap those girls and lock them away, keep them in a hole in the ground somewhere and torture them. Let them tear off their fingernails while they tried to climb out, spray them with a firehose if they didn't do what he said, starve them for days and then skin them... the whole concept frightened her. She felt like Catherine Martin: taken from her home, not knowing where she was or what was going to happen to her...
It put her in a complete panic.
Nora found herself screaming, kicking and punching at the door, sobbing when her attempts failed (and they always did). That man, Sparda, happened to walk into the room while she was on a tirade. As soon as he came into her vision, she screamed and lunged at him. He simply waved his hand, and she felt a force burst through the air and smash into her, pushing her away from him and making her collapse back onto the ground. She got up and rushed again, and he merely repeated the process. She was back on the floor, furious as ever.
"I'll kill you!" she hollered. "Take me home now!"
When she screamed more profanities and threats, he rose his arm and folded his fingers into his palm, and she found that she was incapable of speaking. Her hands went to her throat and her jaw dropped. She tried to talk, panicked again when she couldn't and ended up stumbling and falling against a wall. The man stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, his eyes hardening and focusing on her all the while. His eyes were glowing. They were a maroon color, something she didn't notice before. But now that they flared like red hot fire, it was impossible for her to ignore.
"Part of me is relieved that your hatred towards me is so... strong." he moved closer, and with every footstep, she felt her heart pounding louder and faster in her ears. "It will make me less sympathetic doing this to a person who shows me no compassion..."
He made another movement with his hand, and she felt herself being lifted off of the ground. She tried to scream, but it was impossible. With some sort of telekinetic power, whatever it was that he was using, he pulled her towards him and her throat found it's what back into his hand. It wasn't as tight as it was before, and her face was uncomfortably close to his. His red eyes seemed to burn into her blue ones... she could have sworn that she felt her irises burning...
She was reminded of another portrait of hers. "Rings of Fire", she had called it. A girl with black hair and dark skin (much like hers), whose eyes were burning away. The girls pupils were larger then normal with jagged edges, like a piece of paper that had been burnt. Small flames outlined those edges and worked their way towards the white sclera. If Nora hadn't seen her reflection in Sparda's glass eye, she would have sworn that her irises were doing the exact same thing as the "Rings of Fire".
He grinned at her. "I will not kill you... I give you my word that when I am through with you, you will be home. You will not remember me, and your sanity..." he glanced at the chair that had once been broken, "What's left of it, anyway... will be intact." his other hand went to her face, stroking her cheek with his fingertips as his spoke. "Do you have anything you wish to say?"
She responded by spitting in his face. The wad of saliva and mucus was caught on his eyelid, but was proceeding to drip and slide down his cheek. The hand that had been caressing her was now wiping the spit away, and when it was gone, he opened his eye and looked from his hand to her face. She was furious, and a moment later she was prying at his hands and kicking at his chest, struggling to be freed from him. His red eyes flared again as she felt his grip tighten, and she would have screamed if she could when his hand began to morph and spike, fingers becoming talons as his hand went from normal to cloven.
He too, was furious. Calm and collected, but furious nonetheless.
"If I can draw power from your anger..." her tightened his grip and she winced, feeling his claws leave shallow cuts in her neck. "Or perhaps the torment that you are to recieve, I may be able to create twins..."
In the blink of an eye, they were elsewhere. Another room, darker and more frightening then the one she was in before. With one arm, he slammed her onto a round table, pinning her down and she lashed out with her arms and kicked out with her legs. Once or twice, her foot caught him in the face, but that only angered him further. His claw left her throat and went to her chest, pinning her down with very little effort while driving the tips of his claws into her skin. She winced again... her chest was burning. She tried to scream, but whatever spell he used to silence her was still working.
Her limbs felt heavy. Her head began to ache. Very slowly, her struggles came to a complete stop and she laid on the table. Incapacitated, but not unconscious. He moved away, withdrawing his claw and turned his back to her.
"I feel ridiculous... part of me wants to convince you that this is necessary..." he said, obviously thinking to himself outloud. "But I know you will not listen... nor will you believe me..." he turned and looked her over. "You were fighting for your life back there, weren't you? Although you probably knew that you were no match for me... I honor your courage."
You honor me because I fight back when my life is threatened? Idiot! A dog has that kind of courage! she wanted to scream to him.
One of her powers... he said she could heal? She never believed in magic, she thought it belonged in the fairy tale stories that it supposively originated from. But after the past few incidents... she closed her eyes. Tried to focus... tried to concentrate... perhaps if she put her mind and determination into her magic, she could heal faster. Perhaps his spell on her would wear off, whatever he did to leave her incapacitated... she could at least run, couldn't she? Get as far away from him as she could? At least make an effort?
Do that then. she thought to herself, squeezing her eyes closed. Try to get yourself out of this mess, before...
There was a sound... he was sharpening something and her eyes snapped open. And they widened.
In his hand was a small, curved blade. It looked similiar to a sickle, but the blade was more circular. And when he ran that cloven hand over the blade, smoke rose to the ceiling...
Oh god... she had to get out of here. Now.
"I wanted to use the gentle ritual for you..." he said, his eyes focusing on the blade more then her. "The kind that didn't leave a scar. But that only works for the ones who are willing..." he wiped his eye, where she had spit on him. "You, obviously, are not willing. And therefore..."
He cut the tip of his finger with the blade. A thin stream of dark crimson, almost black, blood went trickling down his hand. He examined it for a moment, then approached her, lifting his hand and letting it hover above her throat.
"Demon blood is... very poisonous to a human. It causes tremendous agony... and I assure you, you will feel great pain." he explained, that damned wicked smile playing on his face. "Would you like to sample it?"
It was funny, really... when he said that, she could see something in his eyes. Something that looked as if he was regretting those words as he said them. Was he an actor? Simply playing the part of the villian, when he was really someone good?
Well if he is... Nora thought to herself. He's doing a terrific job. Because I hate him as much as I hate every sick villian that he's imitating.
She lifted her body slightly and snapped her jaws at him, a poor attempt to bite him. Her body slumped back and she landed on the table. He narrowed his eyes and allowed the blood to drip onto the skin on her neck. Instantly, she felt her skin burning, just like her chest had. She tried to scream again, but couldn't. She was writhing and squirming, releasing hysterical, silent screams while her body twitched. Her neck went from burning to stinging, as if an insect had stung her. Her eyes opened and she looked at him, fury still in those blue eyes, her body shaking as she locked eyes with this monster.
That's him, isn't it? she thought to herself. Sparda the monster, not the hero. she wanted to growl, scream, insult him, and all the while she wanted to cut her head off for not being able to do any of it.
His hand was still holding that knife. He was trembling, but was forcing himself to be steady. Any regret that he had for doing what he was about to do was quickly masked by Nora's hatred. She didn't show any signs of sympathy for his regret and relunctance. Even if she did, he was still going to torture her. Nothing was going to stop him. She wasn't going to be a willing sacrifice. He was forcing her into something that she wanted no part of, that she didn't ask for. Taking away everything she ever worked towards...
Her future... her plans... dreams of making enough money to attend that school... becoming a famous artist...
She felt heat radiating off of that blade as he lowered it to her chest. In a swift moment, her shirt was cut down the middle and fell open. Her heart pounded faster and her breathing intensfied. Nora had to will herself to breath slower so her heaving chest wouldn't ride up to meet that red hot blade. He sliced off her bra, watching as it fell off of her and she bit down on her bottom lip when she saw him eye her breasts. He didn't look aroused. She didn't have a large bosom, after all... or perhaps he was used to seeing bare breasts and was just acting casual. She remembered reading about Sparda and the succubus, Nevan. She was described as a beautiful, dangerous creature with the body of a goddess, capable of transforming her appearance in order to fulfill the fantasies of her lovers who preferred to have their women look a certain way. The book she read stated that Sparda was attracted to women with fair skin, blue eyes and golden hair, which was exactly the way Nevan made herself appear to be whenever he was with her.
Well that explained his lack of arousal. She didn't have golden hair or fair skin. The only thing that he could possibly admire about her were her eyes, and what good would those do? If she could speak, she would try to talk him out of this, as if the demon knew anything about remorse...
He cut away her pants and undergarments, then tossed the remains of the clothes (as well as her shoes) away. She felt his red eyes trailing up and down her body... and his clawed hand moved to her thigh. She twitched and her body tensed. Was this it? Was he going to rape her now? He was already spreading her legs and she felt his claws against her vulva, stroking it for a moment. She surpressed a look of pleasure, not wanting to give him the satisfactory, but then winced when she felt his talons move into her. It probably wouldn't have hurt as much if she wasn't so tense, but since that was the case, he slipped his claws deeper into her body, moved it around for a moment (which caused her more discomfort), before pulling his hand out. He looked her in the eye with a look of disgust.
"You're not a virgin?" he said. She rolled her eyes in response. "That changes everything..."
He moved away from her and she was somewhat relieved when he put away that strange blade. But that relief was gone in an instant when he came back with what looked like an ice pick and a much larger knife. Her eyes were bigger.
"The spell I intended on using would have been more effective on a virgin..." he explained, his grip tightening on his knew weapons. "But since that isn't the case..."
He used the knife to cut open his palm. Blood gushed from his hand, which he used to bathe the blades in. He approached her allowing the knives to hover over her stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to picture something in his mind. Nora used to do something similiar, before she painted. What exactly was he imagining? How he was going to dismember her? What kind of look her face would depict while she was writhing in pain and torment? After a moment, his eyes opened... and that damned wicked smile of his returned.
"I remember, now..." he hissed.
He brought the item that resembled an ice pick down, impaling it into her stomach as her body convulsed and surged forward. He grinned again, then quickly pulled the blade horizontally, cutting open her stomach and probably impaling her reproduction organs as well. The torment... oh god, did she feel pain. Tears welded and poured out from her blue eyes, her lips trembled and she tried to steady her breathing. For some reason, she wasn't bleeding. Perhaps it was another spell of his, or... maybe it was her magic? Was this her healing abilities kicking in? Keeping her from bleeding to death?
If that was the case, it wasn't helping her. Part of her wanted to bleed to death. Part of her wanted to die in that room, feel no more pain... he was moving the blade in many directions, making the cuts appear to have some kind of pattern on her womb. His blood burned like acid and stung like venom. Smoke began to rise from her burning flesh and she tasted blood in her mouth from biting down on her lip.
She didn't want to look at the ice pick any longer. Her head jerked away and her body trembled when her eyes fell onto the larger knife. It hovered over her clavicle, and was brought down mercilessly. She wanted to scream louder this time. He pulled the knifes across her skin, twisting the blades at certain points to increase the pain. Sometimes he would pull the knives out, giving her a moment of relief before impaling her once again, creating new patterns on her flesh and increasing her pain. She wanted to cry when he went to work on her arms and legs. Her tender skin wasn't used to so much abuse. Her face was red and her skin was covered in blotches and hives when he ran the tip of the knives against her groins. If he impaled her there, she would murder him. One way or another, she would find some way to murder him if he did that.
Thankfully, he didn't. She thought it was an act of mercy, but when she saw that look of pleasure in his eye, when she knew he was enjoying every moment of this, she was certain that he knew no such mercy.
He made more strange symbols and designs that outlined her face. Although they burned and hurt the most, they seemed to heal the fastest. After an indefinate amount of time, he rolled her onto her back. She wondered how she was still conscious after everything that had happened. Was it another spell? Why hadn't she gone into shock yet? She debated this while he bathed the blades in his blood once again and felt the blades impale into her back. He cut more strange, deep patterns into her back, along her shoulders, on the back of her legs and on the back of her neck.
This wasn't the first time she was completely exposed to someone. But this was the first time that she felt completely humiliated by being exposed. Perhaps that was his intention. He wanted to feed off of her anger, didn't he? Her anger and her torment... she wanted to fight against him, not let him have what he wanted without a fight, but she couldn't help herself. She hated him. She feared him. And she was hurting...
Just when she thought he would never stop, he pulled the knives away.
"You've been through enough for tonight..." he said, and she tensed up again. For tonight? Did that mean she would have to go through this all over again? Dear God, this man, no, this monster truly had no pity. "The lines will scar. I will not be able to remove them when I send you back... hopefully you are led to believe that they were some kind of birth mark."
She wanted to curse. So badly. She wanted to spit on him again, but her strenght was close to zero.
He turned her over, onto her back and looked her over again. He eyed her abdonem and looked disgusted once again. "It's a shame, really... who wants a pear when someone has already taken a bite?"
She used all of her strength to spit in his face again. This time, the wad was tinted red from her bloody lip. He looked angry, she knew that he wanted to slap her. Why he didn't was anyone's guess. He'd already caused her enough torment, and promised that there would be more to come. What harm would slapping her do? He wiped the spit away and looked her in the face.
Those eyes... those horrible, blue eyes. Such hatred radiated from them. Strength, anger, fire burning within her... he knew that she feared him, but it would seem that the fear had already morphed into nothing but complete, pure hatred.
He didn't like it. It was unnerving.
"You will have new clothes in your room. And food." he said, trying to ignore those eyes.
They reappeared in her room, and although she was too weak to dress herself and too disgusted to eat, he somehow managed to enchant her into doing both. He attempted to dress her himself, but stopped when she kicked his hand. There was a crack this time, and she realized that she had jammed one of his fingers. Not that it mattered, it popped back into place a moment later. It was evident that she did not want him to get close to her. So he didn't. As weak and exhausted as she was, she managed to put on one of those expensive looking gowns as quickly as she could. He stayed in the room until she finished eating, and left when she was ready to sleep.
She refused to sleep until he left the room. And judging by the exhaustion in her eyes, he knew she wasn't lying to him. The moment he stepped out, she was unconscious...