Burntout

Black Magic

Andromeda Claire Holloway

The whip lashed against my back and I gritted my teeth, refusing to scream as the poured salt onto my back, tripling the pain. A criss-cross of wounds marked my back, my arms, and my legs from the unrelenting crack of the leather whip that my torturer wielded. 5 lashes today, 7 yesterday, and 4 the day before. And the night wasn't over yet so I kept my mouth closed, allowing the harsh punishment.

I wasn't going to help a monster. I wasn't going to be a pawn in his war and do what he wanted me to do. I wouldn't bow to him and just because he wore the crown marking him the king didn't mean he was any less a coward, letting other people do his dirty work.

A faint knock on the door interrupted the sound of the whip slashing through the air and I allowed myself to breathe out. Cassie would be bringing some form of food, her mealtime deliveries always coming at the best timing, during when the man would become crueler because I wouldn't utter a sound.

The whip hit once again but he pulled away, hooking it onto his belt as he went to open the door. I hadn't figured out his name or what he looked like because he shielded his face with a black mask. I moved a few steps over, my aching legs burning like fire as I slide down onto the floor, avoiding the spot where blood had gathered. My bare feet were splattered with crimson spots of it. I watched silently as the man exited the room to allow Cassie's silhouette to walk over to me.

At the sight of me, I heard her inhale sharply and I managed to utter, "It's okay, Cassie. After a while...everything grows numb and all that's left is this." I gestured to my bleeding wounds, trying not to give in to the tears I had been holding back for days now.

I can't wait for the day when I can finally be at peace and not feel so much pain in me.

And I pray more than anything that my last breath is a sigh of relief.

But that day hasn't come yet, no matter how hard I beg for it to come.

She set down the basket and kneeled down beside me, pulling out rubbing alcohol and gripping a roll of white cloth. Cassie dressed my wounds each day, stopping any risk of blood poisoning or infection. Especially in these dirty dungeons, it was a nice reassurance that I wouldn't die of something as small as that.

I winced as the alcohol set in but the pain quickly went away. Opening the basket, I was greeted with the fresh aroma of chicken, the smell of the herbs it was rubbed in wafting upwards and making my mouth water. A leg of chicken was set on a plate, a roll of bread beside it with a small square of butter placed delicately on top and melting into the still-warm bread.

Cassie stood up to leave and as I looked down at my leg, I saw a tiny piece of parchment rolled up and pressed flat, placed inside the cloth wrapping she had placed. I cast her a questioning look but she said, "Try the bread, it's freshly baked."

She winked at me once before leaving. I picked up the bread and underneath it, shining with the gleam of butter that had dripped on it was the key. The key to unlocking the dungeon.

Whoever had designed the dungeon hadn't thought it out, putting a lock on the inside instead of the outside so before he left, the man would always have to lock the door in a weird way to ensure I didn't escape. I wasn't foolish enough to try and get out, knowing of the guards outside the door but I assumed Cassie hadn't thought of that.

Sighing, I put the key on my lap and pulled out the paper. Written on it in a fine, spindly handwriting were the words: 4 Crescent Avenue. Brown house, a candle will always be lit in the window. Come if you have news. -R

Regulus.

I shoved the paper away, shoving it into the pile of blood and allowing it to seep into the red substance. Just as I was about to shove the key back in the basket, I heard a man's voice yell, "Young lady, I advise you to come back here at once before-"