Drum-roll please! *drum-roll* Coming now...the long awaited phenomenon...written by our very own moi...presenting my first SUPERNATURAL piece...The Fire's Glow! *cheering crowd* XDXD Enjoy! (And yes, SUPERNATURAL has to be in all caps!)
CHAPTER ONE: The Breaking Point
Pain. All it was, my whole world, was unbearable, scorching pain. My head swam and my vision blurred. The demons prancing around me were just black and red blurs. Red? Where did the red come from? I thought, only half concience. I mustered up enough strength to look down at myself, and gasped hoarsely. The chains binding me to the alter were bleached crimson, and two huge gashes in my side and gut were still pulsing blood, along with numerous cuts and burns. I ground my teeth together, letting out a low moan of protest as a hand clamped down on my jaw and forced my head up.
"Such a pretty face, even when it's mauled," said an infuriatingly familiar voice. "It's really too bad, you know. I would've loved to work with you. You're so full of pent-up, hidden anger; you would've been good at the job."
"I'll never be like you, Alastair," I growled, my fury lending me some strength. "I would rather go through this every day for the rest of my life in this God-forsaken pit." Alastair smirked and drove a knife deep into my thigh. I let out a low wail of agony. The blade was covered in Holy water and salt, setting my whole leg on fire. I groaned as the roaring inferno seared my leg to the bone, wanting nothing more than to break my bonds and clutch at it. My hands curled into fists and my fingernails pierced my palms, drawing blood. I ground my teeth into my tongue, biting back a screech of pure agony, until I tasted metal. Red crowded the edge of my vision as Alastair grinned widely at my toturous state.
"You know what my offer is, Chelsea. Why not accept?" he said smoothly. "You know how much pain it would save you."
I slowly loosed my taut jaws to reply, trying not to howl in pain and anger. "My response remains the same. Nothing in this world would more painful than destroying innocent souls piece by piece." Alastair's only response was to twist the blade around, renewing and strengthening the fire. A let out a wail as he wrenched it from my thigh, crimson blood splattering the stone floor. As he sauntered away, the anger faded and I felt more exhausted than ever. My head drooped and my eyelids slid shut as the demons gathered around to put me back together again.
The roaring pain slowly faded as I was pieced back to wholeness. Faded, but not entirely gone. There was still a dull ache, but I ignored as best I could. Right now I needed rest, even though I knew it wouldn't do me any good. No matter what I did, tomorrow and the day after that, and the day after that, would undoubtedly be the same. For the rest of eternity, until the day I would finally snap...
I firmly pushed the thought from my mind and locked it behind iron doors. Nothing Alastair could do, nothing this demons belly could throw at me that would shake my decision. And yet... And yet, and yet, and yet. There would be no pain, nothing to maul me and shatter me. Perhaps I would even get to torture Alastair, make him feel the same way I did. To take him apart, piece by piece by piece, until there was nothing left to put back.
The sound of footsteps snapped me away from my thoughts. I raised my eyes to see Alastair in front of me, a dagger glinting in his right hand. By now, I didn't have enough strength to lift my head, no matter how mad he made me. Alastair pushed the bottom of my chin up with the flat of the blade and scrutinized my face. "You've been thinking," he stated flatly. I closed my eyes and let out a tiny grunt. "I can see you most likely haven't changed your mind. Perhaps I can change it for you," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. I tried to protest as he twisted the blade around so that the tip was pushing at my skin. I gasped at it began to force its way through.
No. No, no NO! I thought, the old fire renewed. "NO!" I yelped, not even telling myself to. His blade didn't slow, and I could feel the tip begin to prod at the bottom of my tongue. Then I felt something...snap inside of me. Something just shattered. Broke. "Please, stop! Please! I...I accept!" I begged, horrified at my own words. Alastair's dagger stopped and he ripped it from my head. I groaned as my blood splattered the stones once again and my head lolled back.
Then, suddenly, the pain was just...gone. My arms and legs were free. I gasped as I stood on my own two feet for the first time in... How long had I been here? It didn't matter now. My head and vision clear, I looked around at my surroundings. Alastair was still standing in front of me, but we were in a room somewhere. And in the middle of the floor was a half-terrified victim chained to an altar, a covered cart in front of her. "I'll take this one," Alastair said. "You can watch."
I did. And then hated myself for it. I knew exactly what this poor woman was going through, what it felt like to be taken apart. Just a few seconds ago, I was her. But when the first drop of crimson escaped, that broken something mended itself into something new. Something different. I was afraid of it, sure, but I welcomed it. I welcomed the monster inside, and it was horrid. All my thoughts, my emotions, were about blood. When the demons turned up, I felt like dancing with them.
After a while, I earned my first solo victim. While I was torturing, I didn't even know what I was doing. The monster in my head had an iron grip on my brain. It was awful, not being in control of myself, not knowing what I was doing. Every day, for God knows how long, it was the same routine: I would torture some soul, actually enjoy it, and then sit in my cell with screams of agony ringing in my ears. I hated what I had become, but didn't know how to change it. I was a monster. Then came the day when I finally got my revenge.
"They sent you? Are you kidding me?" Alastair sneered mockingly. "This is too good." All at once, the screams of agony of those I had tortured flooded my head, ringing in my ears. In clenched the cart, my knuckles going white, but I wound not let Alastair see my weakness. I stopped in front of him and slowly pulled the tarp away, revealing an array of knives, a jug of Holy Water, and two full canteens of salt.
"You know, Alastair," I said, turning a machete so it caught the light, "you sure do have a big mouth for someone half-dead. Let's fix that, shall we?"
"Oh Chelsea," he chuckled. "You're not really scaring me. I think you can do better." One corner of my mouth turned up in a broken half smile. This'll be fun, I thought, setting the machete down and choosing a dagger in its place. I dipped it into the Holy Water and sauntered up to my victim.
"Do you regret anything?" I asked. "Want to take something back?" I pulled up my sleeve, revealing two ragged scars running parallel up my forearm, a token from one of our many sessions. "You scarred me; mauled me beyond recognition. I can't even count how many times you left me down there, ripped apart. Well, now I get to do the same to you, with one small difference: when I'm done, they won't be able to put you back."
I traced the tip of my dagger across his throat, glaring into his eyes. Then I did the thing I had practically dreamed of since who-knows-when: slowly traced up to the bottom of his chin and dug in my dagger.