"I've been told plenty of times I'm a monster - it's time to prove them wrong. Even the devil knows that's a compliment."
Her friend was one of many to die at the hands of the Winchesters. Another splash of blood on their red stained hands. They di...
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WARNING: DARK THEMES AHEAD EG. TORTURE. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU FEEL AS THOUGH YOU WILL/MAY BE TRIGGERED OR NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THESE THEMES. YOUR WELL-BEING IS MY TOP PRIORITY AND IF YOU DON'T CONTINUE I WON'T BE OFFENDED.
Dean quivered in fear, strapped to a chair and mouth taped shut. He was screaming, yet she couldn't hear it, the only sign of his voice was the slight crinkle of the tape. He wasn't harmed at all; in fact, he looked the best he ever had, with sweat dripping down his face in waves and eyes full of terror. Deans wrists were only slightly irritated from his previous failed fleeing.
Though it wasn't his painful wrists, the ties restraining him, the tape over his mouth that was making him quake in fright. It was the girl in front of him, with black hair knotted in a crazy bun on top of her head, strands undecided about their destination. Her eyes were strangely empty, and her smile had no joy behind it.
It was the grin of a killer.
Her face revealed no emotion, only a void that couldn't be escaped. Her fingers danced across the bars in which he was trapped within, and he again attempted to wriggle out of his ties. At this, her maddened smile grew wider, deepening the void her heart had become. She pulled a sad pout, and spoke in a mocking voice.
"You stuck there Winchester?" He had no reply, and even if he did, it wouldn't be heard. His eyes narrowed as he struggled to appear brave, when in reality he was screaming at his bladder not to betray him. He put all of the hate and anger he could muster into one glare, but it bounced off her, as though her insanity had become a shield. "Is ickle Dean Winchester scared?"
Dean's glare hardened, and she sniggered. That laugh sent shivers down Deans spine, and he knew at that moment he was royally screwed.
"Well ickle Deanie Weanie, it's playtime!"
Her face lit up as she unlocked the barred door and entered, pulling in behind her a tray of multiple instruments. They ranged from a pair of pliers, to a jagged knife. Every instrument that ever had been used for torture was upon the table, glowing gold in its own glory.
She let her fingers drum along the whole area of the table, starting off slower and gaining speed. "Is it going to be the hammer?" Her fingers moved quicker, lightly touching the object before hurrying on. "The poker?" She stopped moving her fingers, training her blood thirsty gaze on him. "Or maybe my personal favourite, the knife?" Ebony picked up the lethal weapon, stroking the blade and swiftly wiping her finger across the jagged surface. Blood bubbled up, and she sucked her finger, red staining her lips. "A knife can do a lot of things to a human, and I plan to do them all." She spun the knife, so that the tip of the blade was pointed at Dean. She sung, "I'll do them all to you."
Ebony adjusted her grip on the handle, and advanced on Dean. He shuddered, keeping his eyes looking anywhere but her. She got closer to him, and he clenched his teeth. She finally was in front of him. Ebony crouched in front of him, snatching his head in her hand and twisting it, forcing him to see her. "Much better now."
