Golden Eeper

Note:

The asterisks indicate the beginning and then the end of a torture scene. It isn't that necessary to read, so just a heads up if you're squeamish and want to skip it. Other than that, enjoy :)

~M

Chapter Two: Nightmarish Tendencies

As they neared his home the woman began to twist in his arms. Grant looked down at her face now contorted in the fear, pain, and misery that went along with her dreams. Worried, he quickly jogged the last few feet to his single cabin and hurriedly slammed open the door. When she started to writhe and scream Grant ran into the bedroom to lay her down. As soon as he started to pull away her arms wound around his neck in an almost painful vice. After several of his attempts to wake her failed he saw no other option, and as she continued her gut-wrenching screams Grant scooped her up -mindful of her wings- and rushed out of the cabin to find Doc. Her screaming brought forth most of the pack members making it even harder for him to find the medic.

Where is he when I need him?

He screamed to himself, and then bellowed, "DOC!" scaring the nearest woodland creatures as well as a few of the younger children who had left their cabins. Seeing as his yelling would not wake the poor woman from her nightmare he continued his loud search until the man in question leisurely strolled down the steps of the cabin he shared with his family.

"Now Grant, there's no need to get your panties in a twist." Doc smiled at his elderly friend's son. Normally expecting a quick retort, Grant did not disappoint. However Doc was put off by his frantic demeanor... as well as the screaming woman in his arms.

"Sorry Doc, no time for your perverted fantasies. As you can see she won't wake up and won't stop screaming," almost on cue she emphasized his point by letting out a tortured wail, "–Oh, and I believe her wing is broken. So if you could

please

be so kind as to stop your fetish games momentarily to tend this creature, I would be grateful."

Doc noticed for the first time the massive wings folded beneath the woman's tiny body currently crying out in agony. "And the woman before us is..." Doc replied, leaving the end as a question.

Grant seemed to ponder this for quick moment before responding, "I have absolutely no idea."

"Any idea where she came from?" Doc questioned, as he motioned Grant to follow him to his medic cabin, away from the curious onlookers.

"Nope," said Grant with a slight shake of his head. Any further response was cut off by a scream that wretched its way from between the woman's lips.

"Well then I suppose we should try to ask her now shouldn't we?" Doc asked as he silently told Grant to place the woman on the examining table.

Grant didn't have time to respond because when Doc tried to remove the woman's arms from around his neck she latched onto his hair. Yelping frist in surprise, Grant regained his composure and tried to pry the sleeping woman's unusually strong fingers from his hair. As he was working on this Doc found a pair of scissors and lopped of chunks of Grant's hair then quickly strapped her arms down.

Grant felt the back of his head, tender from all of her pulling, and felt the shortened ends of his once-shaggy mane of inky black hair. "Gee, thanks," he muttered. If Doc heard him he pretended not to notice. Either that or he was extremely preoccupied looking for something to wake the woman whose screams were slowly dying down to painful whimpers. When the woman ceased trashing under her restraints Doc picked up a syringe and sedated her.

"Was she this loud when you found her?" Doc asked.

Grant reviewed the day's events in his mind. "No... it seemed like she

wanted

to say something... but she couldn't and then she fainted."

"Hmm... well I certainly hope she doesn't always vocalize in that decibel." Doc said smartly, acting deaf and wounded by holding one hand to his ear. Grant just looked at him impatiently so Doc gave up on his humor and unbuckled the ties that held the woman down. He silenced Grant's questions and objections with a raise of his hand and then flipped her over to examine the crushed wing. Shooing Grant out of the room to wait in a chair in the hall Doc began to work.

¬¬¬___

Her eyelids felt extremely heavy and her muscles weren't cooperating. Letting her body rest for a moment she tried to remember her dreams.

WHACK, she heard coming from down the hall, followed by a blood-curdling scream. Over and over for hours... days... or maybe even months she heard the moans and cries of the tortured beings next door. Huddled in the corner, her frantic eyes were searching again for any means of escape and her thoughts were so jumbled that she didn't realize the heavy door had been opened until it slammed shut. She shot up and let out a gasp only backpedal into the shadows, afraid to meet the same sentence as the others.

"Don't worry," said the voice that once sounded so melodic, so caring, but was now cruel and deadly. "You're my favorite. I have special things planned for you."

Before she could stop it the temper she thought had been diminished flared to life in her quick reply, "Yes, I'm sure you tell that to all your captives...female and male," remembering his humiliation earlier in life, causing his extremely homophobic nature. This brought on a new wave of regretful emotions as she thought of her mother, her sister, Emmett...oh my... Emmett! Is he safe? Is he alive?

Her mind processed her thoughts quickly, her memories only lasting a quick second, but it still left her unprepared for his next move.

"BITCH!" He roared, and then darted across the room with uncanny grace to backhand her face into the wall. "I was going to go easy on you, seeing the potential and the power you hold, but I guess you'll have to be broken in the hard way."

He head was still spinning from rebounding against the hard concrete. She forced her tears down, not willing to let this monster get the best of her. "You can try." She boldly stated, but it came out more as meekly than she had hoped.

"I see you have yet to learn for your earlier mistake," he said, reaching for something on a shelf, "so let's set you straight, shall we?"

Biting back her response this time, she cringed under his touch as gently stroked her hair and face... which was followed by the stinging imprint his hand made from the loud connection of his hand with her face... again. Grabbing her roughly and forcing her to the center of the dark room he wrapped her arms in rope and magically bound them. He then yanked her arms above her head and tied her bonds to the bar along the sealing. He punched her unexpectedly in the center of her stomach as he went to turn on lights.

She could feel her blood pooling in under the skin of her abdomen; she could feel it gathering in her ear then trickling down her neck; she could smell its rusty odor as it leaked from her nose. Even so, she refused to look at the man whom she mistakenly fell for. Instead she took in the walls of her prison. Wooden shelves lined the cold, concrete walls; shelves full of devices to be used for her torture. Under closer inspection she saw blood. Tons of it... splattered on the walls that were bare, and in splotches all over the hard, concrete floor.

"I see you like the décor. Well, darling," he said with a sneer, "I'm glad you like it... it will be yours for a while."

She mentally cursed at him when she heard the once endearing pet name which only reminded her of her stupidity; blind stupidity. He chanted a few spells which she realized were to make her blood clot faster, preventing extreme blood loss. When he saw the recognition dawn in her eyes he smoothly said with a chuckle, "Well we wouldn't want you to die too soon from blood loss. We would never get to the fun part."

*

"Ahhh, nothing to say now?" He reached for something else behind her and released what she soon saw was a cane on her back. "How about now," She bit her lip to muffle her soft cry at the burning pain as the cane fell repeatedly in strokes along her back, "...or now?" He asked after he had slashed her back numerous times. She felt blood begin to well inside her mouth from biting her lip. Not only that, but she also heard some trip from her mouth onto the floor.

Wait, on the floor? She thought, then took a chance and looked down to see that the blood was actually dripping from the wounds on her back. Her back was numb from pain, so she hadn't noticed the liquid streaming down her spine. Noticing her gaze, her captor said, "Oh yes, this cane is especially sharp. I had it made just for you... figuring you would enjoy it based on your other dark tendencies." Still behind her, he put his arms out in front of her he waved around the dangerously sharp-edged cane before bringing his arms back, purposefully nicking her skin as he went. He belatedly laughed at his joke and dug the cane into her back so hard she almost choked on her own blood.

He slowly worked his way around her, cutting into her flesh as he went. Once he appeared in front of her she spit her blood at him yelling, "You bastard! You-" Her rant was cut off when she closed her mouth to stop the scream that wanted to emerge from her lips from the slap of the cane across the front of her thighs. With a dramatic sigh he responded, "My poor, poor, child. Things will only get worse if you can't get a hold of your wild tongue." As she opened her mouth to retort again -against her better judgment- when he stopped her and grabbed a hold of her jaw, locking her open mouth in place.

"On second thought," he said with a lecherous gleam in his haunting red eyes, "I could take care of this little trouble-maker." Seeing her panicked look he chuckled and replied to himself, "Oh yes. I think that is a wonderful idea."

Leaving her momentarily to hang, swinging from the ceiling, while he got a sharper tool, her thoughts raced from anger and frustration to guilt and fear. She was also feeling an immense amount of pain from the deep wound in along her side and back. She was grinding her teeth so hard together she was sure he could hear.

Deep in thought when he returned, he shoved two fingers up her nose and snapped his lean fingers in front of her face to get her attention. Looking up with a startled gasp she tried to regained her steady breathing. From the loss of blood she previously suffered she was already feeling nauseous. "Now open wide..." he said with a grin; which quickly turned into an ugly frown when he saw her teeth press together and her jaw lock. Apparently not up to any more banter he squeezed her cheeks and held her nose until she almost passed out from oxygen deprivation. When he mouth finally opened, even though it was the slightest bit, he jammed his hand in stretching her wide. Realizing that her stubborn jaw would not do, he removed his hand only to punch her face and dislocate her jaw. "There, now you'll surely be more compliant."

The sudden pain made her dizzy and failed at struggling against him even more. Her next words were slurred and he laughed at her and put his hand back in her slanted mouth. Digging in his pocket with his other hand he pulled out a scalpel. Her eyes widened in fear but before she could make any noise he placed it on her tongue and split it right down the middle.

"I was feeling generous," he said after stepping away to admire his work in progress, "so I didn't cut it off completely. That and your jaw should cease your jabbering for now anyway."

The pain was slowly registering in her brain. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as pain radiated from her mouth and back. He was upset that she hadn't screamed yet so he got the cane and started again, this time on her front. Her small whimpers were not enough to satisfy him so he made blow after blow across her breasts, ribs, stomach, and legs. He sharply punched her sides over and over, making her swing around. After one particularly vicious hit she swung wildly out to the side, and then held out the cane.

Her eyes widened as she felt herself gaining momentum as gravity brought back down fast from the swing of the blow to her ribs. Her gaze locking with the cane, time seemed to slow as she desperately tried to slow down her speed in fear of the cane splitting right through her middle.

On her way down, which seemed to take an eternity, she heard, "you might as well scream, sweetheart, they all do."

With that she swung right into the cane, and with him holding it firmly, one of sharpened edges sliced through her and was lodged in her side. What made her scream was not the fact that the sharp cane was embedded in her torso, no; she screamed as he slowly and purposefully dragged the cane out of her body.

As he pulled the cane forward and out of her, her body jerking in utter and complete agony, he heard what he'd been waiting years for.

*

Through her slack jaw and cut tongue, her scream was loud, agonizing, painful; full of anger and remorse, guilt and hatred. It echoed off the slabs of concrete and down the hall to what was left of the other victims. Her mutilated body shook uncontrollably under the shattering force of her scream that was now a choked sob. Even he shuddered under her wail of absolute horror but with his shudder flared desire, making her scream the first of many.

___

She shuddered at the recollection. The woman slowly curled into a fetal position feeling like she wanted to cry... like she

needed

to cry. Since the tears wouldn't come she struggled to right herself in death breaths. Finally opening her eyes she saw she was in the dark. The moonlight streaming in from the window helped her to take in the room she was in. Moving around on the bed,

bed

? She thought, willing her shaking arms to stretch out to feel the soft linen texture of the navy bedspread. It seemed timeless to her, the room she was in, although she could tell it was lived in often; from the few socks littered around the wood floor to the open drawers in the dresser. Speaking of which she looked down only to find that she was wearing a shirt; it was a man's shirt, but a shirt none the less. Fear suddenly overwhelmed her as she imagined he had found her again. Her fear made her adrenaline kick and, no longer as drowsy, she gripped the blankets and tossed them off of her to swung her legs over the bed. She looked up and was startled by the unmoving shadow in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. It was light enough to make out a masculine figure but too dark to see any definite features so she added in those of her previous captor. Again fear pulled at her, telling her to run away. So she held her breath and sat still as stone before crawling back to the head of the bed and reached out for the open window. Looking out she saw that she must have been on the first floor, for the drop was incredibly short. Tossing a quick glance over her bony, pale, trembling shoulder she slipped out and landed smoothly in a kneeling position.

With newfound wonder she tried to spread her wings from their cramped style on her back. Her right expanded far out while her left stopped short and pain encompassed it. Reaching back she expected injury but found that her wing was bandaged and just sore from being broken. Shaking her head to rid herself of her digression she took off into the neighboring woods.

___

He woke up and knew she wasn't there. Getting up too quickly, his joints cracked and popped from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position.

Stupid rocking chair,

he said to himself. He knew he could easily track her, easily catch up with her, but he waited. He knew she would most likely stop to rest close by so he would know if anything happened to her. He decided that letting her work out her fear her own way was better than cooping her up with stranger she didn't know; however the notion of her going through pain alone deeply saddened him. Looking over at the unmade bed, sheets tangled from her nightmare, his suspicions were confirmed and he gazed longingly out the open window, willing her to come back to him.

___

The woods frightened her as they did before. The trees loomed over her and seemed to mock her cowardice. Cocooning herself in her soft, feathery wings she slowed her pace deciding that she could get father in the daylight. Searching the immediate area for a place to rest she spotted a log covered in a thick moss that spilled over then sides and down onto the grass below. She kept her wings around her slender body to protect her from the nights chill as she lowered her body onto the cold earth. As she lay there on the grass, watching and listening to the sounds of the sleeping forest, she felt a sudden pang of loneliness and regret.

For what?

She wondered. All she knew was that, as she gazed longingly towards the direction from which she came, she wanted to go back.