Author's Note: This chapter is much darker than previous chapters; I'd rate this chapter M. TRIGGER WARNING.
Wasteland Survival Part 19
Sarah sighed, looking up at the sky and clenching and unclenching her fist to work the feeling back into it. She adjusted the scrap of shirt that covered the wound on her hand, grimacing at the blood staining the cloth. "Jeanette's been sleeping for a pretty long time, should I go check on her?" She asked, looking at Ray with concern.
"Might be a good idea. She seemed pretty depressed yesterday; she probably just needs someone to talk to."
Sarah stood with a light groan as her back popped loudly from being in a hunched position. She stretched as she made her way into the slave house. She quietly closed the door behind her, noting that the ghoul was still lying in bed with her back to the door. "Jeanette?" She said gently, her voice laced with concern. She stood quietly near the door for a moment, expecting the other woman to turn back and look at her, but she did not.
"Jeanette, honey, you can't stay in here all day," She paused, still waiting for her to say something. She lightly sighed, slowly walking over to stoop behind Jeanette and lightly lay her hand on Jeanette's shoulder.
"I know you're depressed about Breadbox…do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was quiet, careful.
Still Jeanette didn't speak, nor did she stir under Sarah's comforting touch. Sarah lightly pulled Jeanette's shoulder, rolling the older woman onto her back. She gasped and jumped back, tripping over her own feet and falling onto her backside.
Jeanette had large, jagged cuts starting from the base of her wrists and running up the entire length of her forearms, her crimson blood covering the floor and staining her shirt. A large cut ran across her neck, blood making a macabre bib around the collar and front of her shirt. SORRY had been written on the floor in her blood in large, sloppy, capital letters.
"Fuck…" Sarah lightly breathed, shifting from her backside back onto her feet in her previous stooping position. Sure, Jeanette had been very depressed, but suicide? Two suicides in a row; Sarah's gut told her something was off.
She looked around Jeanette's body, finding nothing that could've been used to make the cuts on the poor woman's corpse. She sighed, mentally preparing herself to check Jeanette's pockets for the item that had caused her death. Sarah hesitantly checked the woman's various pockets, looking away and feeling disrespectful, only to find nothing.
She searched the rest of the shelter, still coming up with nothing. She sighed, placing her hands on her hips and looking around in a last ditch search attempt. Her eyes skimmed over Bronson's mattress, seeing a small red object sticking out from underneath it. She raised an eyebrow, lifting the mattress to find a small, battered red book. She picked it up, opening it to a random page towards the middle.
Fuck if I know what the date is anymore,
Some new slaves came in today; young guy with some nasty scars down his jaw and neck, some old man, and a sexy blonde. I'm hoping to get some action from her, but Scarface is fucking always around her. Dude better fuck off or I'll have to take care of him.
Sarah rose an eyebrow, skipping a couple of pages into a newer entry.
Sarah is one hot piece of ass. I keep looking at her when she's not looking; I get a pretty good view of her ass when she's chipping away at that damn wall. I plan on talking to her soon. I'll take her one way or the other, even if she's not willing.
Sarah's eyes widened and she flipped the page quickly.
Fucking Breadbox! That old motherfucker found my journal under the barrels today and saw the kinda shit that I've written about in here. I need to find a new hiding place for it. Anyway, I caught him reading it, and strangled him with my bare fucking hands. I can't have him telling any of the others about the things I've done. Or the things I plan on doing. I made it look like he hanged himself. I'm glad to finally be gone of the old fart.
She nearly dropped the book, but forced herself to read the next entry.
I had a talk with Sarah after they dragged that old asshole's corpse out. Ray ran out here pale as a fucking ghost after he found him. It took everything in me to keep from laughing at his pansy ass. Anyway, I couldn't keep my eyes off Sarah's fucking body when we were talking. She caught me, but she didn't seem disgusted with me. That's good. I started talking about sex and shit like that with her, and she's not with Ray. She hasn't been with anyone for a while, I can tell. I can't wait to finally fuck a willing woman. She shot me down, but she'll give in eventually. I'll fucking make her.
Sarah read on, her expression stony.
Jeanette wouldn't stop fucking crying. All I wanted to do was come in here and drink, but she just wouldn't shut the fuck up. I had to kill her. I slit her throat, but I cut her wrists after she died. I tried to make it look like a suicide too. Hopefully no one gets suspicious. In other news, I plan to make a move on Sarah tonight. She tends to stay up later than everyone else to work on the escape route. I'll try it then. If she denies me again, I don't think I'll be able to hold back anymore. I'll fucking rape her if I have to.
Sarah jumped at the sound of the door slamming behind someone as they entered the shelter, dropping the journal as she turned around with wide eyes.
"Getting in some reading there honey?" Bronson said, looking at her with an amused expression. He turned the lock on the door, sliding one of the barrels in the room in front of the door for good measure. He stalked quickly forward, Sarah jumping away and backing into the wall as he scooped his journal off the floor. "Don't they teach you not to go through other people's things in the Brotherhood?" He grinned, tucking it back under his mattress.
"You're fucking sick! You killed Jeanette and Breadbox! And you're-" She snarled before being cut off by him.
"Gonna fuck the hell outta you? I know. Did you read anything before my Paradise Falls entries? I think those made for a very interesting read," He smirked, stepping closer to her and drawing a shiv from his pocket.
"You're disgusting. And no. I didn't read more," She hissed, tensing to get ready to run past him and hopefully out the door. It was locked, and there was a heavy barrel in front of it, but she could probably get a painful hit on him that would make him keel over long enough for her to bypass said lock and barrel.
"You should've. I've done worse when I was in the Wastes. It really makes for some pretty interesting reading material," He grinned sadistically, stepping closer threateningly.
She made to run past him, but was clotheslined by his thick arm before being thrown to the floor. The breath was knocked roughly out of her lungs but she managed to kick Bronson in the gut as he tried to jump on top of her.
The breath was knocked out of him in retribution, but he still managed to fall on top of her. His breath slapped her in the face; it stunk heavily of cheap whiskey. The shiv was pressed to her throat as Bronson swore loudly.
He brought his face close to hers, his words a growl. "If you scream or try anything, I'll cut your goddamn throat."
Sarah's response was a low threat. "How will you explain that to the others? They'll find out. And they'll fucking kill you. Did you know Jericho used to be a Raider? You see they kinda shit they do to people just for fun. Imagine what they'd do for revenge."
A small look of realization touched his features before disappearing, but it was there just long enough for Sarah to recognize it. She smirked confidently. "Come on Bronson, you even realize it. You'll never get away with this."
A growl escaped his lips. "Just shut the hell up!" His grip tightened at her throat, threatening to choke her. He glared at her for a moment before his lips were suddenly crashing roughly against hers; his arms pulling her body flush against his. Sarah planted her hands on his chest, struggling to push him away, but he pulled her closer.
She began to panic. He was everywhere. She could hardly think, her mind clouded with the fear of what was going to happen if she couldn't get away from him. He moved his hand that held the shiv to the front of her shirt, slicing her shirt open in a swift, experienced move. His lips were at her neck now, working their way down towards her now exposed bra. She was panting heavily, fear working its way into her quickly. His hand that was pinning her arm ran up said arm to grope her breast roughly. She squirmed with discomfort at his vile touch. His hand holding the shiv skimmed down her stomach and stopped at the top of her pants, the tip of the blade suddenly cutting off the button. She could see his grip loosening on the shiv slightly as his fingers started to pull down her zipper; that was his careless mistake.
She took advantage of her momentarily freed hands by slamming her fist into his nose with an infuriated snarl. He howled in pain and recoiled, dropping the shiv to hold his broken and bloody nose. Sarah snatched the shiv off the floor, stabbing it into Bronson's lower belly. He gasped in pain, looking at her with an utterly shocked expression as she kicked him off of her. He looked up at her as he held his stomach, oozing crimson from his stomach and down his side and finally onto the dark, dirty tiles of the floor.
His shocked eyes met Sarah's infuriated glare as she stood up. She wiped her mouth with the hand that held the bloody shiv, trying to wipe the taste of his alcoholic flavored lips off her own, only to succeed in smearing his blood over them like macabre lipstick. Her shirt fluttered around her fit torso and simple gray bra like a makeshift vest as she stalked around him, her lightly tanned skin smeared with his blood that had dripped onto her before she had kicked him to the side. Her glare was unsettling, eyeing him like a Raider who had found his next torture victim gift-wrapped and waiting.
She stopped pacing, suddenly dropping to her knees beside him and ramming the shiv into his stomach again. He let out a low sound of pain, his eyes wide and shocked like he couldn't believe he had been bested. She grit her teeth and ripped the makeshift blade out of his flesh, ramming it into his stomach again. Her anger was consuming her. She couldn't believe the foul things that this man had done, so she rammed the blade into his chest and stomach for all the Wastelanders he had hurt, for Breadbox, for Jeanette, and for herself.
She lost count of the amount of times she had stabbed him, or long she had been at it; the life had faded from his eyes only a few stabs in, but still she continued to ram the shiv home over and over again. Her surroundings had dropped away from her mind; she couldn't hear or see anything other than Bronson's body and the sounds the shiv made as it ripped him apart, she wasn't even aware she had started screaming until someone was kicking the door open and pulling her away from Bronson's mutilated corpse.
...
Ray looked up in shock as an angry and pained scream echoed from the Slave House. Bronson had entered the shelter shortly after Sarah, and it had been quiet for a while. He assumed they had been consoling Jeanette, but the nearly inhuman scream cutting through the air was solid proof against that. He, Jericho, and Bleak rushed to the door, trying to push it open only to find it completely immovable. He and Jericho rammed their shoulders into it, the subhuman cry of rage continuing as Bleak ran to the gate on their pen to shriek for help.
Eulogy, Forty, and a female Slaver Ray recognized but whose name escaped him were rushing through the gate on their pen shortly after Bleak began screaming for help. The children in the neighboring pen looked on with fear and curiosity at the panic occurring in the adult's pen. The female Slaver locked the gate behind her and stood with her Combat Shotgun gripped in her hands as Eulogy barked at Forty, Jericho, and Ray to get the door open.
The door finally slammed open, knocking over a heavy barrel that had been blocking the door. It slammed out of the way loudly and light spilled into the otherwise dark slave house, exposing Sarah ramming some sort of makeshift knife into Bronson's mangled torso over and over again. Jericho and Ray froze at the doorway, unable to comprehend what had happened to make Sarah do such a thing. Forty rushed into the room, grabbing Sarah from behind and tearing her away from Bronson's remains. She let out another inhuman scream, kicking frantically and flailing her arms, the shiv swinging around dangerously in her grip as Forty picked her up. Her foot kicked the mattress, making it slide and reveal a small red book. Only Eulogy noted this however, and he scooped it up, tucking it in his jacket pocket.
Ray had never seen Sarah look so...he couldn't even image what he would call this. Scary? Definitely. Wild? That too. Broken? He couldn't bring himself to describe the normally indomitable woman with that word, even though that was how she looked. Her shirt had been completely ripped open, exposing her bra and a fit stomach splattered with gore. Blood coated her hand that was holding the shiv and decorated her arms with more smears and splatters. Her green eyes were wide with fear and a nearly mad look, but her blonde hair was somehow still in its usual messy ponytail.
She continued to flail, her elbow smacking Forty right in the face. "God damn it! Eulogy, do something about this feisty cunt!" He snarled as blood trickled from his nose and met his lips. Eulogy glared at Forty but came forward to smack Sarah hard across the face with the back of his hand.
The blond stopped thrashing for a moment, shock crossing her pretty face, but it was quickly replaced with pure rage. She lunged at Eulogy with a snarl, nearly knocking over Forty, but somehow, he managed to keep his grip on her. Eulogy sighed in irritation and drew some sort of syringe from his pocket, shoving it into Sarah's neck with no hesitation. She convulsed for a moment before going limp, her eyes rolling up in her head and the shiv slipping out of her bloody grip.
Ray's jaw dropped and he was speechless. Jericho suddenly lunged forward and was screaming in Eulogy's face. "What the fuck do you do to her?! Did you kill her?! You son of a whore! I'll kill you!"
Forty dropped Sarah carelessly to the ground like she was an inanimate object to smash his fist into Jericho's face. Jericho took the blow like a pro and swung back equally as hard with a snarl. Forty stumbled backwards as Jericho rained blows down on him, turning his back on Eulogy. Forty crumbled to the ground and Jericho kicked him over and over again in the face and torso, making sick crunching sounds as his heavy leather boots connected with the flesh. Eulogy ran up behind Jericho, swinging a red suit clad leg and letting his wingtip shoe strike Jericho right in the apex of his thighs.
Jericho let out a strangled sound of pain and fell to his side, gripping his testicles and making low whines of agony. "Carolina Red! Get your ass in here and help me!" He shouted to the woman outside, hefting Sarah over one of his shoulders and struggling to pull a battered Forty to his feet. The woman that was standing near the gate rushed in, pushing past a speechless and statue-like Ray and Bleak to help Eulogy drag Forty out of the slave house. She gripped her Combat Shotgun in her right hand and grabbed one of Forty's arms with her left, helping Eulogy drag him out.
The Slavers awkwardly made their way to the gate with Forty and Sarah in tow. "Wait! What are you going to do with her?!" Ray shouted, rushing after them. The barrel of Carolina Red's shotgun dug into his chest when she suddenly turned and rammed it into him.
"Back the fuck off asshole. She can't be around you guys. Isn't safe for you or her," Eulogy snarled, hobbling out of the gate and dropping Forty for a minute to lock it behind him.
"Wait! Please! I can help her! I can talk to her!" Ray shouted helplessly, his hazel eyes wide with fear for Sarah. His hands gripped the fence so hard his knuckles turned white and he shouted his pleas after Eulogy so urgently that the veins in his neck bulged against his skin. Bleak placed a hand on his shoulder as an inarticulate cry of helplessness wracked his body. He watched Eulogy carry Sarah into his home, and he wondered if he would ever see the strong Brotherhood woman again.
Author's Note: Sorry how long this took, but life is a cruel mistress. Plus, I recently got Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age 2; so blame BioWare for making awesome games! XD