SEQUEL IS CALLED "No Mercy" ON MY PAGE
Merciana Sheehan, a beautiful, merciful and skillful woman, had little recollection of her upbringing. Besides knowing that she was from the Underground and that her mother passed when she was young her life wa...
*TW* This chapter eludes to sexual abuse and contains detailed physical abuse. This chapter may be disturbing and/or triggering to some readers. Please be advised.
{Mercy's POV}
Something was different. I could tell that I was reliving a memory, but something was different. Everything felt darker. I was training in a large, dimly lit room. I was sparring with a masked man, but I knew it couldn't have been my father. He was taller, and wore an all black fitted suit with a metal mask that covered his entire face. I would run towards him and use my momentum to climb up his body and lock my legs around his neck. His body would come crashing down, and I would break myself free.
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"Good," the voice would say. "Again." I recognized the voice, but not enough to place who it belonged to. I repeated the training until I could barely stand. I was forced to perfect every form and technique until exhaustion. "Again," the mask man boomed, but I had already fallen to my knees. "I-I can't," my voice cried breathlessly. I stared down at the hardwood floor as sweat dripped from my body and splatted against its grain. I placed my palms against the ground as I tried to catch my breath, but the back of my skull ignited with pain as my vision was pulled upward. "I said, 'again,'" the voice growled as they held me by my hair. "I can't," I screamed, but the grip on my hair only tightened. "Then you choose your punishment," they laughed and dropped my head back down until I was staring at the tops of my hands once more. Drops of my sweat continued to splatter against the flooring, and were soon joined by my own tears. "Do you want the knife?" the masked man asked as they walked circles around me and pulled a knife from their belt. "Or the room, maybe?" "N-Neither," my voice cracked as I straightened my posture and sat back on my heels. "I can... go again," I said in between breaths as sweat dripped into my eyes.
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It stung the inner corners of my lids as I squeezed them shut. My skin was radiating with heat exhaustion. I took a deep breath. I looked around, but couldn't make anything out. I was in a large room, I could tell by the way our voices echoed against the walls. Several lanterns were scattered around us, but they only offered so much light. "You already made your decision," the voice growled. I looked up at the masked man. "What do you want?" they said through a laugh. "Beaten to hell? Burnt? I'll let you pick this time." My body shook with each word that escaped his mouth and he took a step closer to me. "Your father put me in charge of whipping your ass into shape," they sneered and pointed a finger down at me. "Either you can get on board, or-" "The room," my voice snapped, and my head dropped down to stare at the top of my hands once again. "Are you sure that's what you want?" He asked menacingly. It wasn't out of consideration. He only asked to get under my skin and screw with my mind. I glared up at the stranger and took a deep breath as tears flowed steadily down my cheeks. "I can't take the pain..." I growled as I shook my head. "Everyday... Every goddamn day you spill my blood.. You break my bones and melt my skin and I can't take it anymore!" I screamed as he walked several steps toward me.
