Bloody Shackles

Chapter 2: One Step Closer

This chapter is inspired by One Step Closer by Linkin Park. There is a pic of Marcus on the right, just image him with black (or red when angry) eyes and his hair pulled into a ponytail. XD

Marcus’s POV

            I bolted down the hallway, my boots making loud, thundering, echoes against the corridor walls. When I reached the end of the hall I noticed a maid. I gave her a passing glance and turned toward the door she was facing.

            “Master Marcus, wait a moment please!” she called out.

Ignoring her I wrenched the door open I burst into the room. My gaze locked onto a girl that was leaning against the wall, with shackles around her ankles and wrists. My servant girl.

            “Who brought her here? Who left her here?!” I growled, knowing full well that my long, silver hair was standing on end and my eyes were blazing red.

            “I-I don’t know Master,” the maid whimpered. I glanced back at her. I noticed her hunched form, her brown hair that was graying around the edges and the beginnings of fine lines about her eyes and mouth. Such a pitiful women, with such a pitiful life, yet I held no pity for her.

            I cocked my head to the side, pretending to be perplexed by her reply. Then I straightened up and lowered my gaze to hers. Her large brown eyes widened as I stepped closer to her. I reached up and casually put my hand on her neck.

            “Then I have no further use for you.”

            With that statement I closed my hand around her neck and threw her. Her head hit the wall with a dull thud, and I smiled in satisfaction when I saw the blood trail down as she slid to the floor. As I stared at her crumpled, limp body, my smile grew.

            I felt my rage begin to diminish and my eyes revert to their original inky black color. Slowly inhaling I turned my gaze back to my slave girl, still shackled and trembling. My smile continued to grow, oh how I felt like a child presented with a handful of sweets. How I wanted reveal to her who she was dealing with. How I yearned to etch her servitude to me into her heart, her soul. I will show her. I am her master. I am Marcus Ishkov.

            “What is your name, girl?” I questioned.

            She blinked and I waited, for her to fill the silence with a reply, but she did not. So before she could blink a second time, I hit her cheek hard and watched her slow decent to the floor. Glee flowed through my veins as her hand shot out to catch herself only to wither with a sickening crack. She cradled her hand in her other and glanced up at me.

            “I asked you your name, girl,” I hissed through clenched teeth, annoyed that she had failed to deliver an answer, and determined not to repeat such a disgrace in behavior.

            “I-It’s E-Ellianna,” she stammered.

            “Well, Ellianna, you are my servant. You are mine, but that does not mean that you have any value. You have no name. You have no identity. You are no different than the dirt that is under my feet. You are nothing.”

            I grabbed her injured hand and pulled her up harshly. She yelped but quieted quickly when a low growl erupted from my throat.

            “Since we have now established your importance in life, let’s remove these shackles, shall we?”

            I cupped her wrists and watched her awe-struck expression as the chains fell away. I did the same with her ankles.

            “Just because I removed your restraints does not mean you have any chance of escape. Do you understand?”

            She nodded her head earnestly.

            I mockingly place my hand to my ear. “I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

            “I-I u-understand Master!” she stuttered.

            I heard a quiet gasp, and turned to look into the hallway. I young maid stood next to the crumpled body of the one I had eradicated earlier. I smiled in satisfaction as I noticed that her blood still dripped down the wall, like a sorrowful crimson river.

            “You,” I stated, gesturing to the maid when she glanced over at me, “clean her up.”

            She began to reach out towards the bloodied corpse beside her.

            “What are you doing you foolish wench?!” I shouted. “Not her. Her.” I clasped my hand around my servant girl’s wrist and pulled her in front of me.

            “You,” I motioned for the young maid to come closer and she did, “you will clean and groom this girl and return her to my chambers when you are finished, do you understand?”

            “Yes, Master Marcus, I understand,” she answered swiftly.

            “Good,” I replied with the hint of a smile on my lips. At least one of them understood proper etiquette. Maybe she could teach the girl some of the rules around here.

            She bowed low and then nudged my servant girl to do the same. I gave them a curt nod in response. I ventured toward to the doorway, but before a reached it I turned a revered them silently for a moment, then I left the room without a word.