Tortured's Tale

Chapter 2

Soul-high differs from alcohol in a unique way. While a common drunk is truly and freely himself, a soul drunk finds it nearly impossible. Understandably so. Souls attach themselves and fuse together with the body till the borders between primordial and new become blurred. The host remains still there and yet unseen - like a moon during the day.

Things were no longer as they used to be. Everything had changed since she lost the ability to see good in people. And with it... the ability to wield. Not surprisingly. In order to wield one must establish harmony within. More than that. One needs to become that harmony.

She woke up to a sunray burning her eyelid. The lean and sickly wiry mass of hard flesh constituting her body ached with dull pain. She closed her eyes once again and drew a deep breath. She was too exhausted to get up, the bed was far too comfortable.
A bed? Aaah. And what's this again?!
She heaved herself up and leaned against the wooden headboard. The room she found herself in came not even close to the basement she last remembered. It was spacious and furnished with useless pieces of fashionable objects. On the left, dark red curtains reaching to the floor were tightly shut except for the single sunray aperture illuminating a dazzlingly pink sofa buried in a faded - also pink - carpet covering the entirety of the floor.
But even though snobbish and modern, the room reeked with a pungent odour burning her delicate nostrils.
Sweat and something... Sperm? No, that cannot be...
Growing alarmingly suspicious of the all too familiar smell she scanned the room further until her gaze casually dismantled her scepticism.
In the middle of the opposite wall stood the most remarkable piece of lifeless junk she had ever seen. A dressing table of massive dark wood loomed in the early morning shade. Nothing extraordinary given the pompous and arrogant atmosphere of the room. Except for one breathtaking detail. Instead of being covered in countless colourful vials of unidentifiable substances and instruments of self-decoration, the board was bending under the weight of sinister objects of torture.
"Oh, shit!", hissed she and stiffened with a dawning realisation. She was completely naked and in addition foolishly unaware of who was lying beside her. A lifeless grin crept onto her already shattered face and adorned by its ominous charm, she turned to the right.

During her miserable addict's years, she had become accustomed to crazy outcomes of her riots. In fact, she found them rather thrilling. That sweet surrender of power, that liberation. After all, the result always depended solely on the soul victim...

A man of narrow build and sallow white skin lay asleep on a white sheet already showing signs of chronic overuse. His legs were bound together at the ankles by a black cord - apparently belonging to the dressing table collection - while his arms were fettered to the carved headboard in a painful manner suggested by their rather unnaturally blue colour. Also, it was impossible not to notice his disturbing nakedness.
"Eh, Sir? Excuse me, I suspect I may have raped you..." , she smirked amused, "Aah, you don't mind? Hmm, alright I guess... I will be on my way then. "
Now, very close to giggling inappropriately she quickly scavenged for her worn but superb suit. It was nestled by her side of the bed like a pile of old putrid dung.
"Well, at least you're not torn to pieces like last time."
She proceeded to put on her boots all the while sinking ever deeper into the darkness of her misery.
It must be a brothel. No way he lives in this posh mess.
However, it might have been she didn't care. As long as there weren't any murders on her body's account she was fine.
He was a rapist, not a murderer.
All that remained to be done was to uncuff the man. That would be a murder alright given the state of his necrotizing upper limbs. Only...
"Where is my sword? ", gasped she alarmed, "Where is my fucking sword?"
With frantic effort and motion of cornered wild beast, she wrecked the room, turning everything upside down. She needed her sword, it was the only certainty she had. The noise of her ravaging apparently woke her intercourse partner who immediately started being conscious of the striking numbness in his arms.
"Could you please uncuff-", he wasn't given a chance to finish the sentence. She leapt to him and pushed on his right arm. He squealed in agony.
"Now listen to me. I will uncuff you when you spit out where my sword is. Speak! "
"I don't know anything about your fricking sword. I am not a thief. I am a prostitute. Au! Uncuff me! "
She more or less believed him. The most probable was she left it in the basement beside the corpse. Nevertheless, she needed to be sure.
"Not so fast.", she pushed harder on the arm. Tears started gathering on the brink of his eye socket. He obviously didn't have much time before it got really serious.
"What did I talk about? Did I say anything... Worth mentioning?"
"No!...No, you just came into the brothel and requested special service. Only your voice was a lot different. You sounded like, well like a man and... behaved like one too. And besides, weapons aren't even allowed into the rooms anyway. "
"So where do I find it? Where are the weapons kept if one carries any? "
"Please, I don't know a thing. You can ask downstairs, they might help you. "
There was no point in talking to him anymore. The conversation had lost its value long before. He was undoubtedly telling the truth. He was a coward. She could smell it from his very words. They reeked with fear.
"Will you uncuff me now? ", he continued in that high pitched voice of weakness.
"Where is the key? ", muttered she tiredly.
"You put it on the dressing table. Don't you remember? You said it would be safe there. "
She didn't bother to answer. Just walked to the table, picked up the tiny key and unlocked the sturdy cuffs.
He gasped in relief. It didn't last long. Soon he was whimpering like a beaten mutt.
She proceeded out of the room, her sapphire blue gaze hazy and distant as if drowning in a fathomless ocean of thoughts.
"Hey! What about my money?" shouted he after her.
She walked out without turning back. He didn't dare to stop her...