My most sincere apologies at the late chapter my lovely viewers, a virus took hold of my computer and I had to get it fixed, resulting in my data and files being wiped. Everything, including chapter 2 of this story, had no back-up. I had to type it all over again. Coupled with school freeloading everything on my sorry person before the semester break, I was a tad bit stressed and thus decided to relax. Please don't kill me.
On another note, can I say how surprised I am at how many people have started following this story at its first chapter? My, I'm starting to feel a bit spoiled. I'm happy to see you find this interesting enough to keep tabs on, and though I don't know whether or not this is a normal occurrence, I can't help but be flattered.
Some of you have also asked me how often this story will be updated, due to my fluctuating schedule, I will update whenever I can. I originally planned to update this weekly, but looking at my planner, I'm not sure if I can keep my promise. So whenever I can it is.
Warning: Mentions of rape, pedophilia, murder and torture
Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail
He was right; I'd never woken up during one of his sessions with me.
Yes, I could feel the pains and aches that pervaded my body whenever the drug he injected into me decided to wear off, when I could feel my blood dripping down my back from new cuts, when I could feel dried sweat all over my body and a foul taste in my mouth. Yes, I could see the after effects of the act from the bruises on various parts of my body to the dried saliva around my nipples down to the crusted white fluid in-between my thighs. Yes, I could smell the heady scent in the air upon my awakening, but not once had I woken up in the middle of the act. And for that, I thanked my lucky stars that the man (depraved monster that he is) who had done this to me knew of small mercies.
I'd lost track of how long this had been going on, the routine the same thing everyday whenever I woke up. A wash in the tub with his hands all over me as the scent of cheap soap filled the air, the faded blue towel smelling of detergent wrapping around me and odd costumes for his pleasure forced unto my battered body , a fragrant meal as he spooned every last bit of food into my abused mouth, an injection of that murky white liquid before it was lights out all over again, before I woke up once again in his arms, in his bed, with a new wound on my back bound to scar.
I was tired.
I was tired, scared and angry. I was tired of the same thing happening everyday, of my helplessness at it all, of my twisted life in a twisted world. I was scared of the moment he decided to forgo and do the deed while I was conscious, I was scared of when it would happen. It was not if, it was when. And I was angry. So, so, so terribly angry at all the injustices the world served to me upon a silver platter, dishing every punishment out to me with no small amount of mercy. Angry at the injustice of it all, I, a girl who had done nothing wrong but love her family and yearn for the strength needed to catch freedom by its wings, raped, tortured and abused by her family, by the people around her, by all but everyone excluding her retainers. Or was it retainer now?
And Felicia, my poor sister—buried beneath the ground, rotting away as maggots, bacteria and all sorts of unsavory creatures lay their hands on her once breathing (alive) body. An angel that had fallen from heaven, a woman who had shown me nothing but kindness from the very beginning reduced to a shield when they sought me for my blood, reduced to a festering corpse within a coffin because of me.
Mother died of an illness because of me, Father was eaten by monsters whole because of me.
They all died because of me.
I still remember Felicia as she soared through the air, bright yellow lights tracking her every flip, every maneuver and every smile and wave to the crowd in-between the hanging metal bars as light reflected off her sequined leotard. She was a mortal human putting her life at risk for the entertainment of others, for the thrill of each jump, for the feel of wind rushing past her. I admired her for it, for all of it. She had the courage to travel where others would not for fear of injury, she had the courage to flip through the air and jump to heights others could not reach, she had the ability to grab freedom by its wings, if only for a few seconds, while I could only stick to the ground; held down by expectations.
She was made to fly; I was made to drown in the sea of despair the world plunged me into.
And in that moment where I realized what she could do amongst the flashing lights, dancing shadows and cheering people, I tugged at Elise's sleeve and said: "I want her."
Felicia Russo became my final retainer that day.
And on the same day of a different year, was the day she was killed.
That was the day death brought its chains down upon her; that was the day her wings were taken away, all because of the blood coursing through my veins.
These thoughts plagued my mind as I woke in the early hours of morning the night after he finishes with me once more. Firmly pressed against his sweaty chest, I wince as his fingers bring me closer to him, digging into the deep gouges on my back. I hold my breath, 'Is he awake?' I wait a minute as my heart pumps faster before wiggling out of his hold and landing on the floor.
Pain flares up my back and arm once more, but I muffle the yelp from my mouth and feel my way to the door across the cold wooden floor, taking note of the sun barely cresting the hills with its light as it slowly climbs higher and higher, bleeding out the colors of a sunrise through the sky. I come across clothes on the floor and grab the closest article I'm sure can cover me and slowly open the door before crawling out quietly and shutting it quietly once more.
'He'll be up soon, better hurry up.'
I find my way to the tiled kitchen, my naked form freezing in the morning chill as I wrap my arms closer around myself, rubbing cold spots and releasing a warm puff of breath out upon the palms of my hands. Taking a look around at the entrance, I memorize everything; I commit the memories of this place to my mind one last time because no matter how bad, memories are still memories. The white tiles of the floor to the peeling floral wallpaper stained in (your) red brings back memories of knives, torture and lies. The wooden table with two sets of plateware and cutlery remind me of the times where I was humiliatingly fed like a baby by his hand. I'm brought out of my reverie when a chill hits me, looking down at the article of clothing on-hand, I lift up the shirt I and glance at it, grimacing when I realized that it wasn't a shirt, but the outfit from the day before.
The blue baby doll nightie is as revealing as it was the day before as I slip it on. Frills, ribbons and lace line the fabric swishing behind me as each footstep brings me closer to the kitchen counter, more specifically, the knife rack. A part of me hesitates as my hand inches closer and I can feel a bead of sweat dribbling down my face, 'Mother said killing is bad…but what can I do?', I tilt my head down in thought, but as the shadows inch closer and closer, I notice the light creeping in through the window. (Tick tock, you're running out of time)
'I can't hesitate now, there's no turning back,' (He's going to wake soon) I hastily think as I grab the closest knife, not even checking to see if it was sharp, and walk closer towards the bedroom once more, passing by memorabilia and useless knick knacks. A photo frame on the wall catches my eye and I stop for a second, trying to comprehend the man (your tormentor) and what I assumed to be his family surrounding him, though I shake off the guilt crawling up my spine and continue on my way through the plain hallway, ignoring any other things that would've caught my eye. 'Surely Mother would forgive me…', I open the door and crawl through the gap before closing it once more, inching closer and closer to the man with snowy white hair and black obsidian eyes, the oddly heavy knife in hand weighing a ton, though I continue walking closer and closer. (Don't worry, dear Mama will forgive you, you're the victim here) Each inch towards the bed over the chestnut floor feels like an hour closer to my death, though it was the man who would die, not I. (Haha are you so sure? Better take back those words in case you aren't…) Suddenly, I'm not so sure, but I steady my resolve and shake off the voice I'd been hearing for 3 long years now.
It's raised over him now, arms shaking and thick satisfaction curling in my gut when my eyes spot what kind of knife I pick out.
It's one of the knives he had used to carve words into my back and arms, the black ink of a tattoo and a multitude of scars. I can see them in front of my eyes, rotten and deranged carved and inked on my back, spoiled in cursive letters on the calf of my leg, hearts and stars dotting the same piece of flesh, the word lucky on my collarbone and a dainty princess on my jawline.
The butcher knife gleams madly as the light of the risen sun beaming in from the window strikes it, reflecting off its surface and onto the man's face. Blue eyes open slowly and widen in fear as they see the tool of their executioner raised over them, coming down with startling force, preparing to split his head open. I'm not sure if my lips are in a smile, though surely that grin I feel on my face isn't real, right? (Stronger, make sure this monster never stands up again!)
For once, I agree with the voice at the back of my head.
It comes down with great force, cutting through the top of his head like a ripe watermelon, only stopping when I meet white bone. (Once more!) I bring it back up, preparing to come down once more. This time, I aim for his slim neck. The skin splits open, but I'm met with resistance once again before bringing it back up and slamming it down repeatedly.
Smash, smash, smash…
"I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired!" punctuates every hit now, a golden glow (Magic made to kill this man) encasing the blade stained red as it cuts through legs and arms like butter, before finally receding as his intestines spill out of his body, the top half now all the way across the bed.
"I'm just so…tired." I sob out as vomit rushes itself out of my body and onto the floor.
Standing over the body of a mutilated man on a bed stained red wearing lingerie and puking as the smell of death fills the air is how the Rune Knights find me.
Months later when I'm back in the manor with the scars and tattoos to remind me that my 2 weeks of captivity had really happened, The Monster pushes me even harder, making me compensate for the blemishes and injustices staining my body.
"You're ruined!" He had said, stepping on my bruised form, pressing it down with painful force on the garden floor.
"How could you have let this happen?!" He cried out, snarling and stomping my arm until skin broke and blood welled up.
"You're worthless!" He sneered, kicking me into the lake.
Watching my long hair trail in the water and the streaks of red dance was mesmerizing. If it wasn't for Elise who jumped into the lake a moment later, carrying me out before I could sink deeper and crying over my wellbeing as rage filled her eyes, I was sure I would've died.
"You'll be okay, you'll be just fine my princess…" She had said, kissing and hugging me all the way to the clinic in the servant's residence.
"How could he do this to you? He's your father…" She wondered out loud over the sound of the nurses and doctors clambering this way and that in an attempt to heal me.
"You mean the world to me…oh little princess, I promise this won't happen again, never again." She promised me, pulling me close and cradling my hand in hers.
Funny how I couldn't care about anything anymore after that incident, really, a year ago I'd have given him the world to make him proud of me, but now I couldn't care any less about what he thought of me. So what if he wasn't satisfied with my performance? So what if I was worthless to him? Better injured and alive than safe and dead. As long as Elise was proud of me and as long as I remembered my promise to Felicia, that I would live my life for her, then I wouldn't need anyone or anything else (They're the only one that matters now).
Amber eyes a shade of red darker than they were before stare back up at me as I look at the blade of troll steel, an enchanted throwing knife with others like it that Felicia often used. I'm sitting with Elise on my bed as she helps me clean the objects Felicia meant to give to me as a gift when I was of age, a rag in my hand and a tin of oil beside me.
I lift the blade up to inspect it closer with my eye, noting the runic engravings and the latin text covering the blade
"Elise, are you sure I can have this?" My retainer looks at me from the corner of her eye and puts down the knife she'd been sharpening, another of the same set as the one in my hand.
"Of course, she wanted me to give them to you in case something ever happened." She pats my head and looks at me with serious eyes instead of the usual look of kindness and reaches into the pocket of her apron. I give her an inquisitive look, her lips quirk up once more before handing me a round locket, "Take it." Elise said.
I smiled.
Elise remembered my birthday, and even in death, Felicia remembers it too.
The sky is crying tears and making puddles of despair as I stand outside with Elise in the muddy garden, trying to catch just a single glimpse of gold amidst the earthy tones and shades of green spreading across the land.
"I can't find them! Elise, please, you have to help me look!" I cry out in desperation as I heave out a pain sob, rummaging through the bushes, dirt and puddles of mud in search of one of my most precious belongings, my golden keys.
"Princess, come inside, I promise I'll find them for you." She says from behind me, holding an umbrella and protecting us from the rain. I glance back at her as my tears mix with the rain, "Promise?" I ask.
I trust her, I trust Elise. She hasn't failed me yet.
"I promise, just go back inside." Elise's arm wraps around me and brings me back inside the manor, "After all," She continues, "Those keys were a gift from your mother, were they not? I promise I'll find them for you."
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Elise. Thank you so very much for what you've done for me."
I hug her and smile as she mumbles sweet nothings into my hair.
That day was the last I heard from her, disappearing the next morning with no trace left behind, everything but a box full of old books and grimoires gone. But as I woke up in the morning and dressed myself, The Monster came knocking at my door and handed me back 3 golden keys before walking away, leaving me with my own thoughts.
It was the final straw.
Once again, you have my sincerest apologies. When I posted this Chapter, it was written in it's source code due a reason unknown to me. Also, I tried on rushing this chapter out, though I may edit it later on when I re-read this since I'll be busy the next few days, it depends on what you think of this chapter.
