Echoes of Dark Beauty

Chapter 2

 As Cohen caressed my face with his deathly cold fingers, a knife blurred across my eyes, an inhuman scream spilling out between my lips. The knife split the flesh of my thigh in unbearable pain, and blood splattered the already-coated walls. Light danced before me as the knife came down again and again. A whisper wormed its way into my mind, and I fought to hear it, even though my consciousness was slipping.

The voice came softly: "I will not allow for you to scream," It said, "Your reputation must be upheld."

Warmth flooded my agonising body as the wounds seeped and tears ran down my cheeks in a river, silenced by the never-ending pain.

A sharp shock rang through my joints as a white-hot iron burned against my arm.

"I want to die! I want to die! SOMEBODY FUCKING KILL ME!!!"

The words were shouted in my brain, but the only sound that came out of my mouth were shaky gasps.

Finally, the knife stopped its progression, and aching relief only lasted a millisecond, as the air made contact with my cut-open body.

Cohen's voice pierced the silence as my throbbing wounds ached intensely.

"Did you enjoy that?"

I heard him ask the question, but I could not muster a reply, even a smartass one.

"The Angels will appreciate this sacrifice," He whispered in my ear, "And your pain that goes along with it."

The cruelty in his voice was gone, replaced with loving care, which made me want to believe his words, accept what was to come, but something in the back of my mind kept me awake, fighting.

"You still have to find out why you're here," the voice said, "And what you need to do."

I acknowledged this fact, but my pain kept screaming at me to die already, or, at least, to black-out, and escape this nightmare. But if I did, I couldn't imagine what would await me when I woke, if I ever would. So, I mustered up what little courage and strength I had left, and whispered something under my breath.

"What was that?" Cohen asked, grinning, "I couldn't quite hear y-"

He was cut off by a loud SLAM! as something slammed into the back of Cohen's head, crushing his skull and bloodying everything around me. As he slumped to the ground, I got a good look at the culprit, or as some may say, my savior. It was a small girl, of about 7 years, with short black hair and seemingly glowing blue eyes. A bloodied axe lay in her small hands. Though I was slightly perturbed, I was also surprised, especially at the wisdom I saw in her eyes.

Her voice was low when she spoke, and barely louder than a whisper.

"Well, well," She said, "That took longer than usual...."