American Royalty II

Part 15: Memories can be the worst form of Torture

Kit was glad to have a change of scenery. Although her change of scenery was just a different cell, she now found herself hanging with her arms chained above her head. The cold, damp stone of the dungeon walls was replaced with a slightly larger, but equally oppressive chamber. Her arms ached from the strain of the chains, but she welcomed the shift, however minor it was.

The new cell was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the walls. The faint smell of mold and dampness pervaded the air. She strained to find any details that might help her situation, but the room was bare, offering no comfort or hope.

Her thoughts drifted to Connor, the love of her life who was probably worried out of his mind. She pictured him staring out the window of the Hogwarts Express, dreading going back to school. Kit looked at her finger where her engagement ring would have been, a brief sadness filling her knowing she wasn't wearing it.

When she had initially been kidnapped, she had immediately hidden the ring from the Death Eaters, knowing it could put Connor in extreme danger. She had luckily managed to pass it off to Hecate the first time she had encountered her in her dreams.

That encounter had been surreal. Kit had been on the verge of sleep, the pain from her wounds barely allowing her any rest, when Hecate had appeared. The goddess of magic had offered her a rare smile, understanding the gravity of the situation without Kit needing to explain. In that brief moment, Kit had handed over the ring, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as it disappeared into the goddess's safekeeping.

Now, as she sat in the cold, dark cell, she drew strength from that memory. Hecate's promise echoed in her mind: "I will guard this with my life, Kit."

"You better," Had been her response, a silent threat hidden behind her eyes.

The door creaked open, and Kit tensed, bracing herself for another round of torment. Bellatrix entered, her face twisted with a malicious smile.

"Enjoying your new accommodations?" Bellatrix mocked, circling Kit like a predator.

Kit didn't respond, keeping her gaze steady and defiant. Bellatrix's smile faded slightly, but she continued her taunts.

"We thought a change of scenery might... inspire you to cooperate," she said, tapping her wand against her palm. "You see, we can make things even more unpleasant if you don't start talking."

Kit remained silent, her resolve unwavering. Bellatrix's eyes narrowed, and she raised her wand. "Very well. Let's see how long you can last."

With a flick of her wand, Bellatrix sent a jolt of pain through Kit's body. It felt like fire coursing through her veins, but she bit down on her lip, refusing to cry out.

Voldemort and two other Death Eaters entered the chamber, their presence casting a dark shadow over the already grim setting. Kit met Voldemort's eyes with a burning hatred, her defiance clear even in her weakened state.

Bellatrix lifted the spell, and Kit's body sagged momentarily in relief. But the respite was short-lived. Bellatrix drew a knife, its blade gleaming menacingly in the dim light.

"Let's see how brave you really are," Bellatrix sneered, approaching Kit with a sadistic grin.

Kit's heart raced, but she forced herself to stay calm. She knew she couldn't show any weakness, not now.

"Go ahead," Kit spat out, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her. "Do your worst."

Bellatrix's grin widened. "With pleasure."

She slashed the knife across Kit's arm, the pain sharp and immediate. Kit clenched her teeth, refusing to give Bellatrix the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

Voldemort watched the scene with a detached interest. "You are a resilient one," he remarked. "But everyone has a breaking point."

Kit glared at him, her eyes boring into his, "You can't break me, no matter how hard you try," Why? Well, she was already broken.

"We shall see," Voldemort replied coldly. He turned to the other Death Eaters. "Continue. We need more information."

As Bellatrix prepared for another strike, Kit's mind raced. She had to stay strong, not just for herself, but for Connor and her friends. She had to hold on to hold on. She knew she could find out more.

The knife bit into her flesh again, and Kit's vision blurred with the intensity of the pain. But she kept her resolve, clinging to the thought of those she loved. She would endure this. She had to.

Voldemort stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Tell us what we want to know, and this can all end."

Kit's lips curled into a defiant smirk. "Never."

Bellatrix's frustration grew, and she pressed the knife harder against Kit's skin, her voice dripping with malice. "Just you wait, we'll put you through hell."

Third Person POV

Kit's legs gave out, and she dropped, hanging limp in the chains. Her head lolled onto her chest, and her body shook uncontrollably.

"What did you do?" Amycus questioned Bellatrix, his eyes narrowing as he observed the unconscious teenager who kept shuddering.

Bellatrix chuckled darkly, a twisted satisfaction in her gaze. "Let's just say PTSD is a very fragile thing, easily triggered when you've been through something like this little princess."

Voldemort, intrigued, stepped closer. He shut his eyes and attempted to enter Kit's mind, seeking any information he could use. But instead of the chaos and fear he expected to find, he was met with a solid barrier, impenetrable and unyielding.

His eyes snapped open, a mixture of anger and curiosity flickering in them. "Interesting," he murmured. "It seems our young princess has some unexpected defenses."

Bellatrix frowned. "How is that possible?" It shouldn't have been. She was caught so off guard, no wizard could have put up defenses that quickly.

Voldemort didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed on Kit's trembling form. "Her mind is strongly protected. It appears our usual methods may not be sufficient."

Amycus glanced nervously at Voldemort. "What do we do then?"

"We will find a way," Voldemort replied coldly. "Everyone breaks eventually. We just need to find the right pressure points"

Bellatrix smirked. "Then we'll just have to get creative."

Voldemort turned away, his mind already calculating new strategies. "Continue to keep her under guard. I will deal with her personally when the time comes."

Bellatrix turned back to the teenager in front of her and ran the knife over some old scars before turning on her heel leaving Kit alone once more, trapped in the torment of her own mind.