TORTURE, SUPERNATURAL

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ᴏɴᴇ. ʙʟᴏᴏᴅꜱʜᴇᴅ

Crowley pulls a long dagger out of his jacket. He places it in the palm of my outstretched hand. I wrap my fingers around the hilt of the dagger eagerly.

He doesn't need to wait for me to agree to this deal, the rage on my face has told him enough.

He gives me a nod before he vanishes back into the thicket of trees.

I can feel the rage throughout my body as I turn back to the killers. They play around with their assortment of weapons, making jokes about who has the biggest knife, and who has the deepest thrusts.

I am sick of watching. I am sick of being stuck in a room. I am sick of not helping anyone. Sam and Dean are out there preparing to fight Lucifer, the original sinner, while I have been sitting in a lush bedroom. My body aches for movement and craves a fight.

I walk out of my hiding place with my head held high. I swivel the long dagger between my hands, the cold metal brushes against my wrist, and I feel strong again. I feel like myself, the hunter I was born and raised to be.

There is a sudden snap as I step on a branch.

Three heads snap to attention. The girl sleepily looks up at me, her young eyes are red and bursting with dread. She lets out an agonizing whimper that rips through my heart. I'm here to help you, I think as I look at her, these pigs will get what they deserve. You'll be home soon.

I look back at the men as their faces pull into confused frowns. Their frowns slide into slow smirks when they peer at me closer. Their wicked eyes glint as they take in the curves of my body, my fair skin and my long hair - they realize that I am another girl. Another target.

But they haven't seen my dagger.

The men look at each other with delighted, keen eyes. One saunters forward eagerly.

"What are you doing out here girl?"

"Oh," I say as I smile, "Just sightseeing."

I bend at the knees. I bat my eyelashes sweetly. And I throw the dagger.

The man that spoke first sinks to the ground, his hands clawing at the dagger that has embedded itself through his neck. Blood begins to bubble out his lips. He burps once more and then slumps over, dead.

The girl lets out a blood-curdling scream, stumbling away from the man. The other two surge forward with the weapons they hold in their hands. One trips over the girl, falling onto a log, his knife flying out of his hand. The other gets to me. His face is aged and furious. He is the eldest out of the pack, the leader.

He swings at me with his machete. But his movements are messy and untrained. I am an experienced killer. A hunter. I know that this will not take too long.

I duck just as the shining silver nips at my neck.

I roll out of the way. I jump over another swing of his machete and send a kick to the back of his legs. He grunts and spins back around. Pathetic. His movements are too stiff, too slow, and his body too effortless to break. He swings and I grab his arm, pulling it until it snaps and he lets out a scream of his own. The machete falls to the grass and I kick it away, twisting his broken arm behind his back until he falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

"Please," he begs.

I twist harder and he lets out another pained scream of agony. But the rage inside of me is all I feel. Rage was the only thing my mother couldn't teach me to control.

"Please, don't kill me, this wasn't what it looked like," the man shakes as he whimpers.

I bend down into his ear, "Don't lie to me." I whisper.

The man shakes his head, sending droplets of tears and snot flying. His body shudders in my grasp as he says, "Please, I have a family - a daughter of my own,"

Disgust fills me but I hesitate as the man whimpers again, "Please, my daughter is just about to graduate. She's just a few years younger than you, you wouldn't rob her of her father would you?"

"Trust me," I tell the monster, "I'm doing her a favor,"

I knot my hands around his neck tightly. I twist and as his neck snaps and he goes limp, a sharp pain shoots throughout my chest.

I drop the body. Spinning around, my eyes meet those of the last remaining man. In my rage, I forgot all about him. I run forward when another sharp pain makes me fall to my knees. I look down. There is a knife stuck in my abdomen and from the feel of it, I'm guessing another in my shoulder. But the pain is bearable.

I get back to my knees and walk towards him.

He stands in the middle of the clearing, a dumbfounded expression on his face as he watches me. His hands are empty. He used his last knife on me and even that couldn't stop the inevitable.

I rip the knife from my shoulder, ignoring the pain.

Beside the man, the girl looks up at me in fear and shock.

"Look away," I tell her. She does. I grip the knife and walk toward my last kill.