Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did:) Okay, there's torture, explicit sexual content, and all the Creed you can handle.

This story is AU, and will be finished as soon as I get some feedback from it. I have two possible endings for it, yet I'm

kinda confused on how to continue....

He cracked my jaw that night. I can barely write to you, my dear sister.

It's hard enough to see with two eyes in this dark...room, let alone with one good eye.

I'll repay him for that, I promise you. Are you surprised, dear sister?

Before, your straight- forward, God-fearing sibling would never even say, let alone think

about harming another. No one has the right to take a human life...no one...so how do they do

it so easily? It's like a game to them...no, not a game...a way of life.

The sun was beginning to set, bringing wraiths to dance across the walls.

They would haunt me, as they always did, whispering...always whispering....

The door opened, without the locks this time. They didn't bother locking the door anymore.

They know...they know, dear sister, they've broken me....

"Weeping, again?" he rasped amusedly. His voice, once beautiful to me, grated down my

spine. Everytime he came near, my whole body tenses painfully, and I feel like I'm being flayed

alive. Who knows? Maybe they left that torture for tonight.

His calloused hands scraped my raw skin as he unlocked my shackles. I don't even bother

to rub my limbs before he grabs me by my arms and slams me against the rough stone wall.

"Are you going to beg, little girl?" he whispered, smirking and showing off his fangs. In the

beginning, those fangs fascinated me. How could a human man ever possess fangs? How could a

human girl be stupid enough not to know, not to guess what he is...what I am? Freak, freak,

freak, freak-

"DON'T YOU FUCKING CALL ME THAT!" I slid slowly down the floor, my nose freshly bleeding,

broken again. Why could I not stop myself? Why could I still speak? I had been chanting that

word out loud, unconsiously.

He turned towards me again after pacing the small, airless room several times.

Tilting my chin up gently, he stroked my face. "Ahh, frail," he tsked, bringing his bloody

fingers to his face and licking at the blood, while staring into my dazed eyes. "Perhaps I've

been too lenient..." he slid his hand down my face, closing my eyes before he gripped my throat,

throwing me onto the stagnant bloodstained bed. His hands strayed down my body until he

possessed my waist. I kept my eyes on him the whole time, dear sister. Why, you might ask?

Because he hates my gaze on him. It bothers him to see goodness staring at him. He knows, he

knows that God will punish him for this. God will punish him, God will punish him, God will

punish him...


Slowly, he pulled away from the bed, staring at the bloody, helpless girl on the moth-ridden

bed. He'd broken her jaw for sure that time, he smirked to himself, then frowned darkly.

"God will punish me?" he whispered in her ear, gripping her breast. "Well, then, if He'll

punish me, might as well..."he trailed off, ripping open her tattered shirt.

Often had he thought to touch her sexually,yet lately he'd been content to follow his boss's orders.

Break her spirit, trample her soul, crush her body, then perhaps kill her later, after they'd gotten

what they were after. Caressing her naked body, he mused to himself how easy it had been,

capturing their greatest threat.