Separated From One Another

Chapter Eight: Not to Go Against Him

You had been training with Frieza for a few weeks now, he had almost gotten the hang of keeping his energy suppressed while you shot weak ki beams at him. Walking back to your cell was always an awkward experience, everyone you passed had weird expressions on their faces. Today was extra strange, the halls were void of people as you walked; nervously you clutched at your suppression cuff.

A hand grabbed you from behind, pulling you into a side room; adrenaline pumped through your system as you blindly threw a punch. You choked on your breath as the person retaliated against you, their fist pushing into the soft of your stomach. They grabbed a fist full of your hair, pulling it back far enough that you could see who they were. It was the guard that had nearly beaten you to death and Frieza had demoted.

"You ruined my life, bitch," She snarled, "I am just giving you what you deserve."

"You think Frieza is going to let you do this?"

The guard seemed startled by the use of his name, she quickly covered up her shock with a smile. Chills ran up your spine as she let go of your hair, spinning you around so she could look you in the face.

"You really think he would stop me, I have permission to do whatever I want to you," She bragged, digging her digits into your upper arm. Your head whirled as you tried to come up with a response, but you could not find one. The guard smirked as her nails dug into your skin, drawing blood.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in pain; her face morphed into rage. The guard threw you down, the back of your head smashing against the floor, you cut open the inside of your mouth and reeled from the disorienting pain blooming across your head.

The guard loomed over you, an unsettling mixture of fury and satisfaction etched across her face. She stamped down her boot on your injured arm; you bit back the urge to cry out and focused on maintaining a semblance of composure. You gritted your teeth, determined not to give her the satisfaction of hearing your cries.

"You should have learned your place," She sneered, "Did my whippings not teach you anything?"

A surge of defiance rose in your chest, when she leaned down, relishing in your suffering, you spat in her face. As she wiped the spit away with a snarl, a renewed fury fueled her actions; she delivered a savage kick to your side, and the air escaped your lungs. Each breath felt like a struggle as you fought to regain control over your lungs, you choked on your breath as you forced a mouthful of air down your throat.

Your vision blurred as she kicked you once again in the same spot, a mixture of drool and blood spilled from your mouth. All at once it dawned on you that no one was coming for you, Frieza had gone and the halls were empty. No one was around to hear you, even if you screamed your heart out. This was done on purpose.