Salvatore | KINICH X READER

Chapter I: Insignificance.

WARNING:
This chapter contains suggestions of rape. Please do not continue or skip the chapter if this is a trigger for you.

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Cold. It's so, so cold.

How long has it been? This question plagued your mind endlessly.

Home. A warm meal by your mother, the sun gracing your face. Sitting peacefully with your saurian. Huh. Your... saurian. Where was she? You remembered the trademark bow you placed on her. How adorable it was on her.

Xochitl. You missed her. She must've had offspring by now. You remembered how adorable saurian whelps were, as you walked with Xochi, foraging, or just exploring Natlan. Like you used to.

Kachina, Mualani, Xilonen. Your best friends.

Where are they now?

"Dead," you supposed. You hoped not. What would you possibly do without them? That wasn't the biggest question, but what would the nation do without them? I mean, they were the nation's heroes, and you... you just happened to hang out with them, you just happened to know them personally. Who were you?

Insignificant. Useless. Incapable.

War. Oh. You remembered war broke out against The Abyss. The Abyss. You hated them. But this... Traveler rolled around. They cleansed your mother of Abyssal Corruption. But did they? She still died. Who were they? They didn't look like they were from Natlan, but you had a lot more on your plate to worry about who some blonde haired ditz was.

Hurts. It hurts so bad.

Your body wracked with exhaustion. Bruises. Aches. Cuts. Some open, some healed. Some new, some old.

There you were, chained. In some basement. Was it a basement? Did that matter?

Who was it? Who did this? C'mon, just try to remember! Try, try, try, try! You worthless piece of–

Shit. The scent that lingered in the air. No surprise that it did. You didn't really expect the luxury of getting a toilet. You had to do what you had to do.

Starving. Oh, how much you craved a meal. No, a meal was too much to ask. You just needed something, even if it was the size of a finger. Heck, you'd probably eat a finger if you were hungry enough. No. That time didn't come yet.

Escape. But how?

You tried that. Once, twice. All unsuccessful. What a pity. The first time, your captors were kind enough to leave the gate open. Or were they? It was probably some kind of trap. You did what any person with sense would, and ran. That was when you still had the stamina to. You were caught, and met with a brutal beating. Back to square one.

The second time, you heard a man speaking with your captors. You were positive it was someone else, you knew your captors' voices like you knew yourself. With a newfound hope, you screamed. You screamt your lungs out, and looking back at it, you wondered how you screamt that loud. Alas, the owner of the new voice came down your cell, and you cried in relief. Only for that feeling to shatter into pieces as he shot you in the foot to shut you up.

Then comes the present day. They don't feed you anymore. Well, not as much as they used to. They fed you once in a blue moon. You wondered why they kept you alive.

For their own pleasure.

You felt used, felt disrespected. But, what did you expect? These were men, after all. You drowned in self-pity, day, after day, after–