Kenopsia

Long Painful Days

Spere stood, sore, dazed, hungry, and tired. Her back was pressed against a cold wooden pole, not very thick around, that her arms were pulled around and tied against behind her back. It rubbed uncomfortably against her shirt. She hadn't eaten in a couple of days, and her body was thin and aching. Beside her on a separate pole was Windy, the golden cross necklace dangling from his neck as he hung his head low from exhaustion. She stared at his face for a long while in silent admiration. She yearned more than anything now to be close to him, to comfort him. To feel him. But alas, she could not, tied up, far away, and defeated.

She turned back to the floor, attempting to relax in the bitter cold, and lost in thought, thinking of Mayhem and Stonehenge and Fallen World and Cloudy and Rebel. But mostly, she thought of what she would do when they got out. The first thing she would do is hug Windy. Maybe she would kiss him too. She'd never truly felt romance before now. And now that she did, it drove her entirely, pushing her on, giving her confidence and a purpose and overwhelming her at times. She didn't mind. She enjoyed the new sense of purposefulness she had. It made her focused. Maybe focused on the wrong thing. Maybe she shouldn't be focused on protecting Windy at all. But then she thought of him, and the time they'd spent together, and she knew it was only fair for him that she cared about him like he did for her.

The door creaked open, and sunlight flooded the dark room. Spere's eyes took a moment to adjust as she blinked. A figure stood in the door. She recognized Stonehenge immediately. Windy stirred beside her now, his head lolling from one side to another weakly. Stonehenge shut the door behind him, and approached the two.

He cleared his throat, then said, "Spere. Are you willing to tell me where we can find more food?"

Spere spit on the floor, "Eat shit."

"Spere," Stonehenge tried again, unevenly this time, "Can you tell me anything about the two boys you were with when we found you?"

"Why?" Spere smirked, "You want them?"

He lowered his gaze, "What are you implying?"

"You know, with the way you've been touching me, I didn't know if you wanted them for that too," Spere hissed, recalling the few times in the last couple of days he'd used her to try and coax information out of Windy. He didn't break, although he had cried out for her. Spere was disgusted, but ultimately, didn't care. He hadn't raped her in any manner; just touched her. And hurt her. Stonehenge threw a punch at Spere's gut, and she coughed, her face strained.

"Tell me," he growled. She refused. Another punch, another body of ache and pain. She still refused. A third punch. The cycle continued.

Stonehenge yelled, "All you've ever done is put me down and make me look bad!"

"Oh, so you're beating me up because I hurt your feelings?" Spere snarked. Another punch. Her rubs ached, and her cut had reopened itself and bled down her front. Stonehenge slapped her a few times, and then left the room, the door slamming loudly behind him. He had such a temper now. "Still an infant," Spere muttered, and then allowed the pain from his punches to consume her. She sobbed from it. She should never show him weakness, but in the dark, alone, with Windy and drained, she needed to.

It didn't take but a while for the door to open back up. Spere sniffed and struggled to wipe her cheeks on the shoulders of her shirt the best she could. But this time, it was Mayhem. She hadn't seen him the entire time she'd been there, so it was odd. He very quietly clicked the door shut, plunging them into darkness again, and then shuffled forward to stand in front of Spere. Spere worried about what would come next. But really, nothing did.

Instead of a punch, he spoke, gently, "Spere, I'm so sorry. For everything, for Stonehenge. I didn't want to be a part of this. We were supposed to attack your group but not kill anyone. And then he made us look for you afterwards, like a deranged dog."