A Healer's Despair

Nightmares

(Content Warning - This work will include the themes, but is not limited to:
Violence and Torture
Graphic Imagery
Abuse and Threats
Nightmares and Psychological Distress.

Read at your own risk and remember to enjoy.)

Eyes open to a room of pitch black, a numbing cold descending on bare skin barely kept warm by the fur there. A shiver passes through the body that can barely move as it is pinned in place by the restraints along the body. The tightness feels suffocating, yet the chest can expand and release the breaths inside. A heart beating quickly pounds on the chest as the body struggles in the restraints, yet nothing happens and the body barely moves. A blinding light pierces the eyes and the eyes blink rapidly before the vision adjusts to accommodate the new view.

A man, an elf, a torturer stands before the restrained body and the body thrashes. At least the mind thinks it is making the body thrash, but the body does not move and only stares at the torturer as it is frozen limply in place. The torturer moves forward, knife in hand, flicking a finger, the body's left arm moves to become a new canvas for the knife's artistry as the torturer tears open the sleeve.

The mind thinks that it thrashes more against the restraints, but the body still does not move. The eyes can only stare at the torturer's hand as he moves it upward with the knife to press the cold metal against the body's sensitive spot on the exposed limb. The ears twitch as a voice is whispered into one of them.

"You're going to make a fine rug, cat."

The torturer's hand presses the knife down and into the skin and the mind wills the mouth to scream, but the body does not obey and instead the mouth only opens slightly, a single tear rolling down the furred cheek as the torturer carves the slur slowly into the arm as the voice sings the word.

"Cat..."

"Caaaaatttt..."

"Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattt..."

The torturer stops once the arm is filled with the word "cat" all over any bare part of the arm, the body unable to make a sound or move much other than to spill tears or open and close the mouth like a silent fish. The torturer places the tip of his blade to the chin of the body and pulls it towards him, making the eyes look at the face of the torturer. His voice is kind, unlike his hands as he speaks now.

"Ehtyla...?"

Wait, no. This is not his voice. It looks like the torturer is speaking, but that is not his voice.

"Ehtyla.."

The torturer smiles and moves the knife tip to the body's chest, pressing the blade there.

"Ehtyla!"

The blade plunges into the chest and the eyes close tightly as the body lurches forward, the mind seeming to have one the battle as a scream finally emerges from the depths of the throat. Suddenly the cold dark of the room is gone, replaced by a warmth that seems to be radiating from her right side by something close to her there. Her ears can no longer hear the evil laughter of the torturer and she can only hear the fire crackling and the quiet shushing coming from the kind voice in her ear. That same velvety voice from her dream was real and it was trying to calm her.

Calm her?

She'd not realized she'd been crying until she felt the dampness fall from her cheek onto her paws that were clutching at her chest. Her eyes open to find the pitch black of the nightmare realm to be replaced with the warm glow of the fire near them that had nearly died completely down in the late night. Her eyes slowly adjusted to what was around her as she realized where she was.