Precious Possession (OC x Kollector) - MK11

chapter 8 - night of the swallow

                  The room was too warm, doubling the pain and agony she had been enduring for the last hours. Her eyes wept, leaked like a teary-eyed goddess and her mouth never stopped the cascading river of blood that left her body in a final gush. Her screams were piercing and heart-wrenching, she knew it was her time to go, but she was not ready, not ready to let go of her life. It wasn't going to end, this hell of his. 

Shang Tsung was not satisfied, he was deeply disappointed with her. The seams of magic pulled her energy apart, like putting salt on a wound he had tortured her from within, like cutting her heart open and stabbing her again and again. She couldn't take it anymore, and he kept torturing her until she was nothing more than a broken shell of a person.

 She clenched her claws in agony while Shang Tsung watched her spazz in pain. He had to teach her the error of her ways. He had to break her spirit. 

"You've disappointed me, Kalliste." He said, "I understand your hatred with Kollector but you've gone bestial, careless, and angered the Emperor." The final blow was not meant to hurt her, not meant to break her, but she felt it all the same. She felt it all, her back arching upward before she slammed down on the marble floor. 

"I would take this time to contemplate your actions." Said Shang Tsung who disappeared slowly out of the room, leaving the girl alone in pain and agony. Her head spun, her blood pressure dropping, her heartbeat slowing to a painful pace. She was done for, it was all over. Kalliste wiped the sweat on her face, the blood that dribbled from her lips and nose, and kept going.

 She felt her body move, and she was no longer laying down on the floor but sitting up. Her head ached, and her bones could barely move normally, but she was alive. She looked down at her hand, the one that Shang Tsung had stabbed her with, and she smiled in distress. 

She blamed herself for this, letting her anger get the best of her, letting her hatred consume her. She regretted her last words, the hatred and vitriol spewed at the man that had brought her so much pain. 

"I'm such a fool." But no, self-loathing, the negativity she spoke to herself wasn't the reason, wasn't and shouldn't be the reason for her survival. She wasn't going to wallow in self-pity, she was going to do something about it. Time was cherished in her silence, in her isolation of herself from the world, but time was all that she had left, and she was not going to waste it in her self-loathing. A mirror in the room was clouded but enough just to see her reflection.

 Her face was red, her lips were torn apart and bloody, and her eyes looked like two black pits, the dark liquid that leaked out of her eyes was a clear sign of her deep pain. She got up on shaky legs, and she brushed the dust off her clothes. 

 The dark was swallowed by warm darkness but the day was still out there, waiting for her to let it in. She was going to embrace it. She stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the hallway where her bodyguard lay dead. She was still covered by the blood of the beast she had previously slayed from before, this time it was rotting all over her skin and clothes. 

 Slowly and steadily she drew a bath that was located in the bathing room of the chamber that she was staying in. Kalliste tore the bloodied clothes off of her body and threw them on the floor where she slowly dipped her bare feet into a small patch of water that gradually filled the bathtub. 

The hot water felt so good. The blood that had covered her was a distant memory. She held her legs close to her chest, her knees bent, and her body leaned over the tub. The water was just deep enough for her to submerge her entire head but not deep enough for her to actually be submerged to her chin. 

She rubbed the muck off of her skin and allowed the blood to drip down into the tub. Her hair was still dripping wet when she stepped out of the tub. Kalliste didn't mind the chilling coolness that embraced her, she was far too numb to its discomfort. She wiped her wet hair out of her face and let it hang freely. The blood on her face, which had started to dry, looked less gory, more like a nasty-looking bruise. She wasn't ready to head out yet. She needed to console herself in the darkness of the room for a little bit longer.