Above Ground: A woman kept hidden, bred for perfection, everything she once was had been shattered and taken away from her.
Underground: A man a shell of his former self, a life of darkness shrouds him, his authority now mind-numbing.
A world that...
This gets gruesome lovelies, and it's 15,000 words, so please proceed with caution. Strong scenes of violence, gore, torture, being drugged, mention of explicit sexual assault, murder, and just really fucked up. You don't have to read if these topics make you uncomfortable, as it's not too important to the overall plot. It IS important as it paints a better insight into Lenore's psyche, her buried trauma, and how she approaches and interprets the evolving dynamics around her. It also gives more insight into The Serpents. If you do read and struggle to understand where she is coming from because it can be a bit back and forth, I write her so in-depth for a reason, and I drag out these scenes so you can envisage it as it unfolds. I don't want to say put yourself in her shoes because that might cause you to internalize and trigger yourself with her actions, but it makes her spiraling behaviors understandable and almost relatable. Her life has been seriously fucked up, and she doesn't even remember half as much as she thinks she does. Although there is an overall plot, I do write with a purpose, and there are messages I hope to convey within the writing.
Take care of yourself and proceed with caution <3
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I sneered at Marco with apathy as he fought against his restraints.
His reddened cheeks inflated as he breathed heavily from his mouth, his eyebrows raised high in disbelief. His cries were muffled from the duct tape across his mouth, a slight indentation forming in the shiny silver as his mouth opened. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, his overly gelled hair now glued to his clammy skin.
None of the other boys looked perturbed, trusting that the duct tape would keep him immobilized.
Hovering over his seated figure, my head cocked to the side as I watched him intently, highly intrigued by his reaction. It was funny how he was getting a taste of the fear he put other people through. Still, he seemed unable to make the mental connection to the irony.
Observing Marco, my thoughts flashed to the few other times I was in a similar position of a power imbalance. It was a stark reminder of how capable of brutality I was. It was a part of me that I hadn't remembered until a few weeks ago. Yet, how effortlessly I could slip back into the mindset solidified how cruel and vindictive I was.
Unsure of what to make of the epiphany, I shoved it as far down as possible, letting it dissolve in the acid of my stomach, the thoughts dissipating before they triggered me to spiral.
Beaming warmly at Marco, I ripped the tape off his mouth.
He grunted as it pulled at his facial hair, his shouts now intelligible, "You fucking whore!"
Spit escaped his mouth and landed on his chin from the frenzied yelling, causing me to recoil in disgust. I scrunched my nose at him, displaying my disapproval of his lewd behavior.
