Revival | Ghost x Reader [Discontinued]

Devil Herself

Y/n's POV

(...Another month later)

Word count: 3.8k

Cool metal dug into the tender flesh of my wrists, the skin swollen, red, and blistered. The weight of the heavy chains draped over my aching limbs, restricting any movement that I could possibly attempt. My shoulders were partially dislocated long ago, my body weight falling victim to gravity as I hung loosely from the molded ceiling, the tips of my toes barely touching the chilly tiled floor, decorated in my blood, old and new.

The majority of my body is covered in healed burns and scars. The landscape of my once smooth skin became replaced by a somewhat reconstructed layer of ripples filled with small canyons and valleys, the hue of my flesh painted in a light pink color, a contrast to its unaffected olive surroundings. The only thing they allowed to heal. The Russians started with their torture slowly, waiting until my broken bones had healed only to fracture them again. 

It's been a month? Maybe two. I'd lost count long ago. Especially with long periods of unconsciousness where I'd only be awakened by a gallon of ice water thrown at my face, dribbling down my naked form. The clothes that once clung to my body became too dirtied, caked in my shit, piss, and other bodily fluids. My captors were disgusted and decided to rip them off. Guess the stench radiating from my wounds was "too much" for them to handle. Pussies.

The Russians knew their way around torture, putting AQ to complete shame. That I'd give them at least. Though, even with their bone-chilling methods, I haven't cracked. Never will. Shouldn't they know by now? I'm a fucking force to be reckoned with. You can't break something that was broken to begin with. My body rose from literal ashes like a fucking phoenix. Resurrected like Jesus himself, only to fall like a dark angel. 

Living in hell itself, I have become the ruler of my demise. The devil herself. A hoarse chuckle fell from my split lip, the blood cascading down my chin to the valley of my chest, the flow halted by the built up congealed crimson bathing my body. Power resides in my broken palms, information they so desperately seek. I'm in control. Chained up now, knife in hand on a battlefield, running obstacle courses in training, gun in hand. Doesn't matter. Control belongs to me. Something they can't take, no matter how hard they try.

And I will escape. Their first mistake was capturing me. 

Their second? Assuming I was weak. 

And once I'm free, Makarov's head will be mine. 

The atmosphere surrounding where I hung seemed to always be thick with a chilling silence only broken by the occasional distant echo of footsteps from unseen corridors and ear-piercing screams from conjoining cells. My room was engulfed in a blanket of darkness, shadows danced across surfaces illuminated by the florescent lighting seeping through the cracks around the iron door. The darkness and shadows had consumed me long ago, taking what little soul I had left with them. 

Thoughts of the Task Force saving me dwindled from my mind after the first few weeks. They probably assumed I was dead, that my body disappearing was a figment of their imaginations. As if I was never there. This was up to me now, help is welcome, what is isn't is necessary. My sanity was dangling by a thread, the idea of its disappearance doesn't scare me. If anything I want it gone. So I can unleash the raging beast inside of my being, subdued only by the chains binding me. Their belief that I had done what they accused me of probably kept them far away. Just out of reach. 

Like I said though. I don't need them. I don't need anybody.

My train of thought was stolen from me as heavy, rapid footsteps echoed from the hallway outside of my room, filled to the brim with cells. Quietness fell across every room as everyone held their breath, hoping that if they were silent enough, the owner of the steps wouldn't choose them. A sickly smile reached my lips, pulling at the swollen skin of my cheeks. "Come and get me motherfucker," I mumbled to myself. "I dare you."