Chapter 6: Shattered
Two full moons after the Fall of Irongate...
BAM!
She no longer winced when the massive tome was thrown recklessly onto the wooden table before her- Emilia had seen it happen dozens of time before, and it was safe to say that it no longer surprised the bound Sefiran medic.
What she was still trying to get used to, though, was the sight of the hulking Fallen pacing back and forth in front of her. Apparently sensing her gaze intently upon him, the massive brute casually leaned over the table and backhanded her across the face. The single thought 'Oh no' never had time to form; her head jerking violently to one side caused Emilia's mind to erupt with pain.
Her vision blacked out, her cheeks burnt, and it would not be an understatement to say that half her face felt like it had been ripped off. Emilia grunted out but did not scream, choosing instead to bite her tongue with her few remaining shaky teeth. And that was the smart choice; previous outbursts of screaming, cursing and/or pleading had earned her nought but a couple more friendly swats to her skull.
'Friendly', of course, being the imperative word.
Emilia could already taste the familiar coppery liquid pooling thickly in her mouth, sliding down her throat. As dark spots continued dancing in her vision while she continued reeling from the pain, the captured Sefiro had one moment of epiphany to muse with cruel irony how the blood she now swallowed was easily a thousand times thicker than the watery 'soup' her captors had force-fed down her throat for the last... days? Weeks? Months?
She could not tell; being locked in a windowless cell getting tortured daily tended to dull one's appreciation of the passing of time, as Emilia had come to notice. Not that it was important. Furthermore, there was no point of dwelling upon it; the interrogation was about to begin... yet again.
'Igor', as the bruiser preferred to be called, took his seat opposite from her and began fumbling with the clasp holding the book closed. His large, meaty fingers could not find the little catch- a pity, really, in Emilia's opinion.
She had opted to call him 'Scar-Face' pretty much the moment she met him since, well, there were probably more scars on Igor's right cheek alone than there were canyons in all of the Dark Mountains. The nickname had stuck... until the second interrogator came in- a lithe, striking Fallen who made up for her seemingly apparent lack of physical prowess with her skills in Legilimency- and rummaged through Emilia's head to look for any war information she could get her hands on.
The Fucking Bitch, as Emilia referred to her lovingly, had thought it amusing to let Igor know of the nickname Emilia had made up for him after she had milked Emilia's mind dry of anything valuable. Emi earned two backhands for her troubles; one on each cheek- she could barely part her lips for the next few days.
And such was the pattern of life in Fallen Irongate for Justicar Michael's dear sister, now proudly rechristened four-zero-three by The Fucking Bitch.
She knew they were trying to erase her identity by calling her using a number, giving her the same food, same treatment, same questions, but it had become so normal now, she cared little.
Things were normal.
Things were... routine.
Soup.
Sleep.
Wake.
Smack smack smack, maybe significantly more smacks if she hadn't been a docile little girl to him the day before, and less if she had simply rolled over in a comatosed heap .
Soup.
Knives, scalpels, drowning exercises- mind molestation optional, if Bitch thought it worth her time to pay Emi a visit.
Soup again. And the rape.
Oh. The rape.
...
At least Igor was often merciful enough to beat her lights out before he tore into her body so Emilia couldn't feel anything that well. If not for the delibitating pain wracking her mind, she might had been able to fully understand what he did and sh-
No. Nothing happened. Nothing.
...
Nothing, Emilia began whimpering oh-so-very-quietly to herself as she rocked a little on her seat. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Across from her, 'Igor' had finished opening the book after seventy three years of hard work and now sat back, staring at her balefully.
Seeing that far-away look in the wretch's visage told him that she wouldn't notice if he sighed. She must be re-living a nightmare again or something; stupid girl always did that even though she must know it was not good for her. But whatever, Igor grunted loudly as he flipped to the second page and crossed out the seventeenth date that was written, and below it, clumsily wrote today's date.
Maybe eighteenth time would be the lucky charm. Even if it was the eighteenth of the second month. Igor grinned to himself as he finally managed to etch the words onto paper. Writing got easier everyday- a sure sign that he was becoming a better soldier, at least in Igor's mind.
The hulking bruiser frowned a little as he eyed the girl before him. The pencil was a bit small for him but... it would have to do.
Igor considered carefully as Emilia's fazing out continued. Slapping her again would be most unprofessional of him; one backhand in the morning was the extent of pleasantries he had adhered to for the past weeks, and he would hate himself just a little to have to break it but...
The bruiser who preferred to have himself called 'Igor' leaned over the table.
It was a pity- the medic before him did have a very pretty face, a great figure and what were once beautiful white wings, but now severely malnourished she was just a walking skeleton with some flesh.
A walking skeleton he liked to cum in- granted. Igor hovered for one moment, indecision etched on his rather large face.
But ahh... no mercy for pawns of the tyrants. In the end, he did rather enjoy showing the simpering mess before him just who was boss.
And really, the wretched Sefiro didn't have that many teeth left to lose anyways.
(break)
An indeterminable period of time later...
Her prison tunic tore easily. Even in her weakened state, she would have been able to tear through it if she had closed both eyes and summoned all the strength she had while chanting Judicator Arianna's name for extra conviction.
As such, Igor simply ripped it off her with a flick of the wrist, tossing her solitary garment to one side of the small cell without so much as a glance.
But that was to be expected. He only had eyes on her; naked, vulnerable, alone... his.
Emilia knew she shouldn't look up. He was shedding his own garments, the brute's breathing growing more heavily by the second. Just the sight of her naked body- deprived as it was- and he was already salivating.
No.
Like he always did.
Igor always salivated.
She backed into a corner as he stepped towards her. Her gaze went up, up, up. But only high enough to see the brute's massive right arm jerking his hardened member in her direction. It was almost as large as her wrist and just as thick. It jerked as if having a mind of its own. It wanted to impale her. She knew as much.
Like an accusing finger pointing at the judged, the condemned.
Slowly.
No.
Her gaze went elsewhere. Anywhere. Nowhere... No windows to look out of. No ceiling to study because it was oh so dark. He was too big. Too massive. He blocked her vision so all she could- would see, was him.
Closing her eyes only amplified her hearing, sounds that... No.
No...
Her wings. Igor always liked to grab her wings as he laid on her, suffocating her with his weight, stabbing her, rutting into her and tearing her insides apart.
He was too heavy. Why didn't he understand? She had begged.
No.
And begged.
No...
And begged.
N-
He giggled like a youngling- he liked to hear her beg. It took her more time to understand.
Emilia didn't beg anymore.
The brute flipped her over and entered her from behind. Sounds echoed well in the small confined space. Grunts. Gasps. Moans. Someone somewhere sometime breathed 'Yes yes yes!' Hers or not hers?
Who gives a damn?
Her frazzled, dead hair was grabbed as the fucker pulled her head back and bit down on her shoulder. With reckless abandon Igor licked, sucked, chewed on the nape of her neck, her ears, her collarbone. Saliva dripped freely from his maw and coated her shoulders in a disgusting, smelly layer of it.
No.
His massive palm encircled her head. Emi found her face smashed into the ground.
The world disappeared. Sadly, for only a few seconds.
Kill me now.
Her bloodied forehead rammed against the fortress's obsidian walls again, and again, and again.
And again.
Darkness gave way to... light. Was it light? Emilia ...didn't care. All was the same. There was no such thing as light.
She giggled like a little girl.
But she didn't scream anymore.
Perhaps... perhaps it was better that way.
No.
Please.
Emilia didn't scream anymore.
(break)
The next... day? Night?...
The surroundings refused to change as she woke. Disappointment had long since given way to acceptance. Furthermore, Emi could sympathize with her stubborn surroundings. No matter the time of day, darkness tended to stay the same- dark. She would have been naive to expect anything else.
'It's ookie', she giggled at the darkness, 'i'm not upset with you or anything.'
'You are completely fucking mental, four-o-three,' the darkness spoke back.
Emilia jumped so high her head hit the low ceiling of the cell. Caked blood gave way to a fresh trickle as her head wound opened up again. Emilia winced but before she took further not of the pain she had scampered off into a corner of the cell on all fours like an animal, cowering into a fetal ball as she covered her own eyes and turned away from where the voice had spoken.
'Hmm,' the darkness breathed out. 'Don't be scared. I don't bite.'
It was getting closer.
Oh no. No ! Help !
Where was her sword !? Wait. Did she carry a sword? Or was it a knife? It was definitely a knife. Where was her knife? WHERE WAS HER CLOTHES?
NO!
PLEASE!
'Say, four-o-three, did you manage to enjoy it?' The darkness was right next to her now. No. It was all around her. Emi had nowhere to turn to- to hide. Where was Michael ?! He promised he would always protect her. Where was he?
Emilia began moaning. Her eyes had become wet for some inexplicable reasons. The tears carved rivers down her dirt-caked face.
'... i could hear the moans from all the way down in the interrogarion room. Through layers of stone, at that.'
It was touching her now. Emilia shook like a leaf in the wind. She trembled like a wooden plank in a storm-tossed sea. Like a downed Justicar swarmed by a thousand Inquisitors.
'Four-o-three,' it spoke with a surprisingly feminine voice, 'i'm here to give you one wish.'
The Sefiran medic was beyond delirious now, as she cried out loudly and her hands fell to her sides. There was no point in resisting the darkness. She could not fight it. She was not strong enough. Why was she still there? It should all be over already.
I'm so sorry.
A slap across the face brought her back into her senses. With the pain came focus. Focus, and remembrance. The welcoming pull of insanity waned and Emilia quietly whimpered her loss. Madness also sighed as its grip on her became dislodged. The darkness's breath tickled Emilia's runny nose.
Then came the memories.
The siege. Irongate. Ashbourne. Meridius. The fall. Torture. Her mind. Questions. Resistance. Rape.
And I-igor.
...
Igor.
She let out a blood curling scream and struck at the darkness. It stopped her strike and jumped on her, crushing her body against its own... surprisingly light one.
It wasn't Igor.
The darkness was much more insistent now as it spoke. It smelled nice. It was soft. Warm. Delicate fingers wrapped firmly around her throat and forced her head back.
Emilia continued bawling.
'Four-o-three!' it hissed. 'You have one wish. Choose. Quick!'
'Kill me,' she cried. Sobbed. Honestly what was the difference between crying and sobbing? It didn't matter. She did both.
Emilia could feel the darkness's weight lift off her. It shuffled quietly away.
'Good.'
And then the darkness was replaced by the darkness- that friend of Emilia's. The voice disappeared into a wisp of black smoke and escaped through the cracks under the iron door.
The Sefiran medic was too far gone to hear the smirk in Krotia's voice.
'There is blood on my head,' she spoke after a long while and to no one in particular.
...
...
...
'Hey! Where's Adriel?'
(break)
S.V's note to readers: (TL;DR i am sick in the head)
Hello there folks! It looks like i lied after all! Not only did the chapter not take 2 weeks, it took less than one. I have quickly found someone new to fill the void in my little six-year-old heart. Goes by the name D**********e. Now this chapter is just dark, even for me, and it would have been impossible to write if i was my normal imperious six-year-old self. Luckily, i had just been heartbroken, was feeling very very very hurt, upset, betrayed and that helped fuel the negativity with which allowed me to imagine myself in Emilia's shoe (not so far from the truth). It was dark and i know it. I hope you enjoyed the cruelty and depravity though. Until next time, have a good one folks!