Months of such fucking torture at the hands of that little lightening wench, made me realize that while all life is precious, nothing could be near as sweet as that final taste of life just before you pass on to the spirit world. I had let out a streaming sigh of relief when I learned that I was going to be moved from that hell hole. But again, my luck, I was taken and dropped in the middle of a fucking boiling lake. Have I ever mentioned the fact that I have fire benders? Well I do. One thing I could have and would have given anything to see would have been miles upon miles of rotting fire nation corpses, bloating and bleeding in the sun that gave them so much power. Torn limb from limb and strewn across the nations left to decompose and in the long run grown back the trees and forests that they destroyed. I'm a dark little bitch aren't I? But you can't tell me that wouldn't be a delightful and pleasing picture. To see those who destroyed this world, forced to regrow it over time. As I said I was ecstatic to hear of my transfer, until I actually got there. No more all female prisons for me. Nope. Now they set me in with the dankest and most foul bunch of prisoners known to the fire nation. The only good thing is that several of the other prisoners happened to be prisoners of war. Meaning, people like me. But that didn't keep the drama away. Cute little read headed girl around sixteen doesn't last long innocence wise around a place like this. I had to learn hard and fast just who I had to keep my ass away from, or it would become theres. There were other women prisoners, few and far between, but none the less. So it wasn't like I was alone, but who the hell would trust another female in a place like this? I found that out the hard way.
Santina. Why is it that I have the worst luck when it comes to females? Santina I thought was my friend. After a few weeks we had grown quiet close and I longed from her company when I was not with her. She became my life support. My one last string of hope that held me tied to sanity in between the beatings and the whole running from the big guys routine. She was also on the regular end of the beating list, and I heard her screams more than once when the guards or one of the not so friendly 'big guys' got ahold of her. Not only had I heard her screams, I held her afterwards as she cried against me. More than anything I wanted to be free. I wanted her to be free too. Until she sold me.
It wasn't for her own freedom or even to get her own ass out of a jam. It was for opium. Some how, and I could probably think of how but I don't want to, one of the prisoners that was freshly transferred had concealed the crap and started word around the prison of what he had. But he demanded payment, and fair payment at that. Santina couldn't afford the fee he was asking so she bargained, and bargained. Then she decided that I, being the 'untouched' female I was, considering that I had managed to keep my self from being torn into while at that prison, would be perfect payment. So much so that she actually got double the opium she had bargained for. Lucky her. So once again I became a bitch, but fight back as I might, this man wasn't one to fight with.
He was double my size in height and weight. He was a monster of a man, and as advanced as I was with my fighting skills nothing prevailed against him. I even resorted to more primal and woman like attacks. I bit and I clawed, if he would have had hair I would have damn sure yanked as much of it out as I could have put my hands on. The scary and most horrifying thing that I had to realize, was that this sick bastard enjoyed being hurt. Every time I bit him and the skin broke releasing that flood of metallic fire into my mouth he would get more anxious and ready. I hate to be vulgar but this man was one of nightmares. No man should be made like that man was. I do believe his father must have been an ostrich-horse. As he had his way with me I could feel every inch of myself tearing. The first time he left me covered in blood. A mixture of my own and his from the bite marks and scratches I had littered over him. The fucking broom handle didn't seem as bad after he was finished with me. But once he claimed me as his own, the regular beatings stopped and I no longer had to play run-from-the-big-guys anymore. I firmly believe that even the shadows and the spirits that haunted those halls feared him. I shall not call him by a name, I don't want to give him even that little of respect. I became his toy. I never gave up fighting though, and once before he was killed I was able to gouge one of his eyes out. My body had never been so sore after he got through with me that night. I had puked until I had nothing left but acid. I had tried to curl myself into the smallest ball possible but that didn't make the pain go away. I begged for death to take me. If I could have just pissed off one of the guards, If only I could have pressed those buttons so far until he just lost it. Death would have been the best release for me. As I laid there bleeding and crying, trembling in the corner of that cell cursing every guard that knew what was going on but only chuckled and turned away, I planned my revenge. Santina would suffer at my hands. Revenge wasn't my strong suit but I could plan a fucking going away party like the best around. After the night's onslaught I wasn't able to walk for a few days, so I received lashing after lashing for not being able to complete my chores. At ever snap of the whip I would send my curses up to the spirits, and toward them. Damning their mother and promising to kill any offspring they ever had. It didn't do any use. Even after the whip covered in flames and that fire licked into my back as it lashed deeper into already open and oozing wounds, I still didn't die. What a cruel fate that was. Who had I pissed off so in the spirit world that they would knowingly allow this punishment and not save me from my torment and despair?
But now I can smile and even let out a girlish giddy giggle when I look back on the way he died. It was oh so gruesome and just so satisfying. It frightened me at first that I drew so much pleasure from his agony and pain, but I got over it. It turns out one of the new prisoner's of war had become quite found of me, even though I hadn't said a word to him at all. Yhiv was a most remarkable man. He had a vast knowledge of poisons and had made himself immune to a number of the ones that could very easily kill. This isn't a man that you would have wanted working kitchen duty, but of course if they had no knowledge of the fact, no harm was done. Yhiv had easily and quickly laced his food. He had enjoyed it to the last drop, commenting on the sublime almond taste. I was sitting next to him as I was always forced to do so that he could make sure that no one touched me.
He and I had were on our way back to his cell, more appropriately he was dragging me back to his cell for another round of 'fun', when he collapsed to the floor. His knees buckled and he just fell. He grabbed his stomach like it was going to explode and his body began to twitch and jolt violently. I quickly disappeared into the growing crowd. That's when I met Yhiv for the first time and learned of the service had had done me.
I was indebted to him but that was something I would never have admitted to him. You don't want to owe someone in prison. They tend to take things back in full plus interest. He was a handsome man to be the sneaky, wily, conniving little weasel he was. We became friends but friendship is only a stones throw from disaster. I was relieved to be free of him, but after that I became a slave to Yhiv. Not in a manner that I had been to the others, but as my raising demanded. I knew that I owed him my sanity.....I shouldn't say that because before Santina sold me over I thought I had owed her my sanity. Turns out I had a lot more wits about me that I gave myself credit for But I did owe him. There was no telling the amount of pain that he saved me from.
He was sent to one of the freezers, even though he wasn't fire nation and couldn't bend. I never saw him after that. I pretty much accepted the fact that those heartless fuckers let him freeze to death. They say freezing to death is like slowly going to sleep and never waking up. I'm not sure if I believe that. Sounds like a horrible way to die if you ask me. I pride myself through it all on not giving up though. I was a fighter. I learned after getting myself out of countless scrapes in the yard that I was not meant to die there. If I had been I would have been dead already. Those bastards wouldn't keep me for very much longer.
And then who the fuck should show up? Guess. Yep you got it little miss cunt for a face herself. That little bitch. I have mentioned that I don't particularly care for that woman, haven't I? I have? Well, I'll say it again. I pray that little bitch meets a slow and bitter end and that even in the after life her soul is tormented by the hundreds of souls whose lives she ruined.
She had more questions for me. This time there was no bucket, there was no lightening. Only me and her in a locked cell. If she would have tried her electrical attack in the steel cell she would have made herself nice and crispy along with me. No she just wanted to talk. Tried to make me her friend. I didn't buy it nor did I bite into her trap. She wasn't happy but she didn't hurt me. I still to this day don't know what angle she was trying to pull or just what that corrupted little mind of hers had thought up, but it was the most confusing experience during my stint as a prisoner.
My last month there was fairly uneventful. That is until Sokka showed up. Who would have known, he and the prince of the fucking fire nation? Well you know what happened after that. But I still have the heat of hatred harbored deep within my chest. Revenge and death radiates constantly on the back of my mind. It takes some discipline and high concentration not to let my newly formed homicidal side make it's shining debut. But if there was one thing I learned in prison that can be put towards use in everyday life, always keep the most vital part of you hidden, if you don't you could end up with a knife through it. In short, wear your heart on your sleeve and it's bound to get torn off. There now you know my story. Sad wasn't it? Now if you don't mind I have some work to do. Force that same old smiling happy personality, y'know. Seriously, you've managed to fuck up enough of my time. So go away and leave me the fuck alone before I kill you, because now you know I'm just itching to release all those repressed emotions.
I love a bitchy two sided Suki. Or maybe it's the idea I like. She seemed just a little too happy in prison. She should have been completely overwhelmed by being in prison, cuz you know she had to go through some hell. My diagnosis? Severe repression and deep mental anguish causing closet depression and homicidal, if not also suicidal, tendancies? Non? Yay! This one is finished!