Slave to Destiny

Pain is technically all in your head. It’s only purpose is to warn you if you are doing something damaging to your body. Your nerves will send signals to your brain telling it to stop. Considering my present situation pain was useless. I was fairly certain Master Henry was not going to beat me to death, so my body really didn’t need to warn me. The pain was all in my head. The pain wasn’t real. Or at least that’s what I tried to convince myself.

Henry was smiling. His teeth were sharp, jagged, and terrifying. His eyes were scarlet red. He was hungry. Hopefully he didn’t have a werewolf fetish. Minutes before Henry had dragged me inside dungeon that I didn’t even know existed. It was dark and gloomy. The only light was random candles scattered about the stone room. The only thing inside the room was a table full of torture devices.

I could see how people were broken down here. As I stood there my body was shaking with terror, but I didn’t say a word. I didn’t plead.

“Stupid little mutt,” Henry hissed, “I hate mutts. Think they are so special. Think they deserve freedom. They aren’t. They are barbaric animals. No sense of self control.”

His speech was nice and short. His punishment was not.

A fist smashed into my stomach. The wolf inside of me growled. It wanted freedom. It wanted to rip him to shreds. It wanted to kill. It was livid. I had to keep it caged inside. The shocks that were randomly zapping me up and down my spine helped. He kicked me in the stomach. He kicked me in the face. I heard the crack of my nose and I felt the warm scarlet liquid flowing from my now crooked nose.

Salty tears slid down my cheeks as he kicked me again and again and again. A loud pop echoed in the tiny room as one of ribs snapped. Before I even knew what was happening I was growling uncontrollably. Shocks sputtered up and down my body as the collar punished me for having willed my wolf to be free. Henry began to laugh. It was harsh and humorless.

His cold pale hand grasped ahold of my hair and yanked as he dragged me across the room towards the table. I could barely hear my own deafening screams. He jerked me up on the table and strapped me in with ease. It had only been a minute and most of my wounds had already healed. The straps were silver. I could feel the burn. I could smell the thick stench of smoke as my skin literally began to sizzle as though it was in a frying pan.

Looking into Henry’s scarlet, cold eyes I realized how far away he was. How far I’d fallen. “The pain is only in my head,” I whispered.

“Sure it is mutt,” he laughed. His next action surprised me. He ripped the brand new shirt right off my body. The fabric split and came off with ease. What the hell was he doing? His icy cold fingers spun around my stomach ever so lightly. It almost tickled, but I didn’t dare move. My flesh was being poisoned by silver. Drying blood was caked across my face.

In a flash Henry was holding a large flat piece of silver that spelled out in curvy letters ‘MUTT’. He placed it delicately just above my naval and pressed down, hard. The screams tore through my throat. It was so raw. I watched in horror as the metal sunk deeper and deeper into my stomach. It was eating away at my flesh at an alarming rate. The screams were music to his ears.

I could barely think. It was hard to imagine that the wound would be permanent. My body was being poisoned. I’m going to be branded for the rest of my life. I’m going to have scars around my wrists and ankles forever. My sobs were uncontrollable. I could feel puke rising up my throat, but I had to swallow it back. The vile taste in my mouth wouldn’t go away.

My body felt weak. My vision began to blur. Tiny black dots blocked off part of the room. Henry stopped pressing down on the brand and left it there as he grabbed another weapon. It was a silver knife.

My body was his canvas as he carved intricate designs into it with his ever so sharp utensil. He had become quite the artist over the years. So focused on the work in front of him that my pathetic screams could not disturb him from his task. “You will regret this one day,” I whimpered watching the knife with horror. My skin was on fire. The scent of burning flesh was like no other I had ever smelled. I’d always remember it.

“Sure I will,” he laughed sarcastically.

He may not have taken me seriously, but he would learn his lesson in the end. The older the vampire the more self assured they felt. It was a false sense of security and I was going to crush his. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, but one day you will see because I will never forgive you for what you have done. The Night Mother is watching and she is not pleased.” The words were not my own. It was as though they had been placed in my mouth. I said it so calmly. No whimpering. No tears. None of that. It was not an empty threat.

As I laid on the table and my vision began to blur, I could help but feel like my Night Mother was there watching me from above. Her perfect beauty. So golden and round up in the sky. My body was overcome with blinding pain and my mind was forced to pass on. Within in minutes of making my threats I had drifted into an unconscious state.