Hey all! New fanfic time! I can't guarantee that this is gonna be any good, but I am so inspired to write for this fandom. So, this is going to be a story for my favorite Hills Have Eyes character, Stabber. There will be some Chameleon/Missy (for you Berry's Ambitions) and some Amber/Letch in here. First chapter is rated T for some non-descriptive rape, violence and cursing.
Here we go!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Hills Have Eyes. Wes Craven does. I own any OC that may show up in these stories. Thank you.
The screams had picked up again late that night, the pained filled sounds reaching even the deepest parts of the mines. It was not a sound that was unusual in the tunnels, so none of the mutants reacted to it. Most just completely ignored it, while others let their minds wander as to what could be causing such glorious and agonized shrieks. Deep down, they all knew what the cause was and, deep down, they all knew better than to interrupt.
Chapter One- Bull
Pain was the only thing my mind was registering now. I wasn't even aware of the shrill cries that were ripping from my throat or of the mountain of a man- no, monster- behind me. I couldn't recall how long I had been there, broken and bleeding, bent over a table like a whore. The taste of blood had become ever present in my mouth and I almost relished it, letting it become an anchor and losing myself to it. I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, collecting a pool of the coppery stuff and spit it out in front of my own face.
The rocking motion the monster had been keeping became faster, slamming my already sore ribs into the edge of the table. I screamed, though the sound had become hoarse and almost inaudible. The creature chuckled darkly and grabbed my hair, close to my forehead, and yanked my head back, hard, hard enough to cause something in my neck to pop.
Another new wave of pain licked through my body and I tried to scream again, but I found I had no breath. I was choking, slightly, and panic rose in me and gave me new strength. The idea of freedom suddenly consumed my entire being.
I slammed myself backwards into the monster, using my weight to try and throw him off. For a moment, the movement of his hips stopped, then a bestial snarl shook from him and he was suddenly out of me. I was almost relieved and I didn't bother holding back a sob. His hand left my hair briefly, but then his vice like grip clamped onto my throat, cutting off the intake of air. He turned me towards him, and pulled me close to his face. I gagged as his hot rotten breath blew hard in my eyes and nose. I couldn't see his features very well, but I could make out one thing. The dark deepset eyes, visible in a shaft of light, were filled to the brim with a primal emotion. Anger? Lust? I wasn't sure, but I know that it scared me into submission. My lungs were beginning to burn and spots and sparkles were slipping across my eyes. Then, a harsh gutteral sound left the monster's mouth. I realized, to my horror, that he was speaking.
"Bitch, you do...as you told. I say fuck, we fuck." He shook me as he spoke the last two words. My head snapped back and I heard another crack. I wondered vaguely if he would break my neck. It would be a swell change to my current situation, I decided. Just as I felt myself blacking out, the monster's hand left my throat.
I dropped to the ground and the impact brought back the feeling and thought. I was made aware of every little ache that he had caused me and, although he was no longer choking me, I found it difficult to draw in any air. My ribs were definitely broken; every breath brought about a sharp stabbing throb through my chest. My left knee was sore and my ankle felt twisted. But, the worst pain of them all was in my hips and my nether region. I was sure I was bruised and the shame made me want to curl up into myself until I disappeared.
Then, he grabbed my hair once more. I was terrified, thinking that he would try again and I struggled, raking my nails on his hands. The action only made him angry and he brought his boot down on my shoulder. This time I was sure of the sickening crack and my vision went black. As I fainted, my mind was consumed with the fact that I couldn't feel my arm.
I slipped in and out of conciousness, but I never opened my eyes. I was afriad that, if I did, I would be forced to acknowledge my reality. So, I stayed still and quiet, hoping that every time I blacked out I would not wake.
At one time, I heard voices. They were near to me, but they were soft and muffled so I could not make out what they were saying. I fought the black out this time, straining to hear the words. Basic thought began to return to me and I noticed that both my arms were bound behind me and I had a rope around my neck. I was on a bed, a rather scratchy one that smelled like something musky and ripe. I swallowed, thinking to try and escape, but then something touched my throat. I froze and tried to fake unconciousness, hoping to be left alone. The thing that was touching me, I assumed was a hand from the feel and warmth of it, was gentle, not demanding or rough like I expected. I felt confused for a moment, but then I assumed the monster was just coping a feel. I stayed still and tried to shut my mind off to it.
The hand prodded at my pulse point, pressing at the bruise that I most likely had there. I felt the hand slip behind my head and lift it slightly. I tried not to wince as the muscles in my neck screamed at the movement. A voice sounded above me, clear enough that I could hear the words.
"Hurt neck, not broken." The voice was male, rough and quiet. The owner of the voice, and most likely the owner of the hand, laid my head down again and didn't touch me for a few seconds. Then, his hands were at my ribs, moving in the same soft movement as before. He lightly touched each of them methodically, pressing down. I felt my own breathing hitch from the agony and the hand withdrew quickly. I inwardly cursed myself, thinking I had given my state of conciousness away, but the voice returned, as did the hand.
"Broken ribs, lungs may be bruised." As he spoke, his voice seemed to waver between loud and quiet, as if he was turning away. 'He must be speaking to someone.' I thought.
Another thought crossed my mind, one that made me nervous. There was more than one person. Did that mean that there was more than one of those...monsters? I felt the last of my hope die out with that idea. The hands had moved on again and now I felt them at my head. The way they glided across my forehead and face made me feel sleepy and before I knew it I was drifting again. I only heard snippets of what the voice was saying. Something about trauma and rest and "...can't take much more...". Then, I heard nothing more.
Well, that was chapter one! :D I hope it wasn't a complete let down. There will be more on the way. We will find out who the hands belong to and we will find out more about our main character in the next chapter. Please review if you liked it!