Awakened

Chapter 21: Torment

Your presence tortures me, your body calls for me... 

{{Elliot's POV}}

As I pressed my blade on to his neck I tried to block away the sting in my chest that made my knees grow weak. I had forgotten about the wound that still remained tendered form the night before. The same wound that could have cause me my life, was now being reopened to the power of my master's own blade making my whole body shiver in pain. But that was the lease of my worries, since I knew I made a wound on him, probably for the second time in all the battles we shared. It was improvement, but not improvement enough.

The first one I made, I did it unconsciously, clinging to my life as he took me forcefully every night until I showed him no signed of pain or suffering in my features. No matter how much I plead for him to stop, he never did. Instead he came at me harder to force screams and bitter moans to come out of my lips.

One night, as he came home, I knew I had to make his little pleasurable torture end. That was the night that I cut his face, and part of his left eye with a shard of a mirror that I found lying in the floor next to me. The shards belong to the mirror he threw me against because I denied to please him with my body, to temp him and invite him willingly to sleep with me, to fuck me. I tried to use words to make him come to his senses, but when he didn't, I had to use force...

He always wanted me to bend my knees towards him and accept the fact that he was indeed superior to me. At first I accepted the fact blindly until I started to understand, that if I left people step on me, I will never be able to move on with my life. So that night, I did that which he always taught me. I put all my anger into that stab, aiming to show him that he was no longer in control, no longer superior to me.

I aimed to take out his left eye, thinking that it was one of the only places I could make heavy damage with the simple weapon I was using. After all a piece of mirror ain't the ultimate tool in the hands of a 13 year old. Yet I was sure I made damage to him, since he pulled away covering his eye as trails of crimson dripped from in between his fingers. For a moment I thought I made him lose his eye and part of his sight forever.

He cursed badly at me just before he beat me to a pulp. If it was not for his partner that came and stopped him, I probably would not be around to talk about it. But to my surprise the wound was not powerful enough to make him lose his eye completely. I heard all I could manage to do was make him lose sight in it, as the eye took on a greyish color, different from the sapphire blue they always carried. His eyes where always different colors; but it had never been as noticeable before. Guess I should be proud of that, yet I still felt unsatisfied. I wanted to make him pay with his life for all the endless suffering he put me through.

I pressed the dagger deeper into his jugular, making drops of his crimson liquid trail down my blade and knife staining it with the mark that I carried deep in my heart... the mark of an assassin. Hate fueled my blade, and blood feed my hungry soul...

But instead of seeing pain in his features he just managed a weak smile as he pushed me back, with a strength that was beyond anything I ever experience coming out of him. I could not comprehend what was going on.