Lost Stars

Chapter Two

-Athena's POV-

I laid down on the ground, my head resting on the black cobblestone. I stared up at the ceiling. I noticed every crack in it. Water dripped through from above, landing beside my face. I didn't mind the water splashing on me.

I laid completely still. If I didn't move, I didn't think. If I didn't think, I wouldn't be forced to relive everything I saw.

The more I laid there, the slower time seemed to past. Not that I had any real way of telling time. My days were spent getting tortured underground and being thrown in a dark cell. There were no windows anywhere around me and there was no natural light. I could've been in there for days, or weeks, or even years and I would never know.

I would "sleep" when my guards expected me to and leave my cell when I was forced to. I didn't know if I was actually sleeping at a normal time. That's the thing with assassins. They're trained to fight in the night or day and sleep whenever it is available.

I thought about Dick. What was he doing? I hoped he had forgotten about me and moved on. Maybe he had found a girl without baggage. To picture him dating a nice, normal girl made me a bitter type of happy.

I chuckled silently to myself, thinking about him trying to womanize another girl. I wished I could see it, him falling over his own feet trying to charm a girl who isn't a vigilante.

I heard the sound of boot against stone. I stayed where I was. The squeaky door opened, screeching in my ears and echoing in the cell.

"Get up or I'm coming in," the new assassin threatened. It wasn't the same person as yesterday -- they had a very deep voice -- and they actually gave me a choice. The other one would've just busted in.

I wobbled to my feet. The assassin grabbed my arm and fastened my restraints. They put them on tighter than the others' did. I guess everyone has their flaws.

We walked through the same old corridor. My chains wrestled together, creating kind of a marching tune. Dread filled me as we came upon the fork. I took deep breaths as my vision started going cloudy. For the first time, I was happy we turned to the right.

Multiple double-sided mirrors lined the wall. I had been in each room in the hallway. Each one was the same basic room but with different types of torture. We walked past and came upon the second to last room.

I was led inside. The room was more sterile than the rest of the dungeon, but it still had splatters of blood and dirt on the white tile. Compared to the squeaky clean room on the left, this one looked like the inside of a trash can.

A masked assassin stood in the corner of the room, a leather whip in their hand. The assassin leading me grabbed my wrists and fastened my handcuffs to hooks on the ceiling. All my body weight was then forced onto my wrists. I stood on the very tips of my big toes, but my wrists still felt like they were being ripped apart.

The back of my shirt had already been ripped away from the first round of tortures, however long ago it was. It hung in rags with most of my back completely exposed. I faced away from the assassin, completely unaware of what they were going to do.

"Traitor," the assassin mumbled, striking me on the back with the leather whip. I recoiled and my feet left the floor, causing agony to shoot up my arm and through my back.

The whip continued to come down. I winced as the skin on my back peeled. I felt blood slowly drizzle down into my pants and out the leg.

There was a pause. I recollected my breath, trying to ignore the pain in my back.

"Traitor," the assassin said louder. A new whip struck me quickly. It was metal, I could tell. The initial strike was cold and soothing, but the actual hit hurt so much more. The metal used was bendy, but still more stiff than leather. It bruised and cut me at the same time. I gripped the chains on my handcuffs, trying to contain my suffering.