Feral For Her Freedom

When I came to, only seconds had passed. Myrin was still yelling at me, seemingly oblivious to my blip of consciousness. He roughly grabbed my arm, and, in his anger, he entered his pure state. Whether he didn’t notice or did not care that his claws were puncturing my wrist was of no concern to me. My eyes were focused on the liquid that beaded up underneath his claws.

Instead of the pale rose pink color that my blood had run as of yesterday, now it was purely silver, no different than that of the mercury serums that were injected into me daily.

Myrin hissed out in anger. I didn’t know why the color of my blood angered him so much.

When I glanced up at his face, I saw that he hadn’t hissed out of anger, but out of pain.

His face was contorted and scrunched up as if to hold back a pained groan. I knew that face well. It was one I wore as much as my regular face. A mask to try and hide the fact I was hurting more than I wanted to let on.

He released me immediately as if I had burned him. No, not if, because. My blood now had the same affects as the raw mercury. I was a byproduct of his weapon, the result of his numerous experiments.

I was no longer me. I was his creation.

Two minds living in one being. A cold being that just accepted and persevered through every hardship instead of fighting against it. A soul whose only purpose was to keep an empty shell alive to be further abused and used as fate wished. No longer a person but a husk of what used to be.

“I yield.” The two quiet words tumbled from my mouth in a sob.

The male closed his trap, cutting off his ranting. “Excuse me?”

“I’m done. I submit.” The words formed on their own, coming out of their own accord. Even my voice no longer belonged to me. My head was bowed in defeat, my hands placed demurely on my thighs as I knelt.

A low chuckle emanated from deep in the back of my aggressor’s throat. “You’re not done until I say you are done,” Myrin told me. “You are close Beastie, but you still have a little way yet to go.”

I kept my mouth shut and my eyes cast towards the ground. How could he not believe me? Why couldn’t he see? I wanted this all to be over. I didn’t want any more pain.

“I told you this day would come,” he said in a sing-song voice, “I told you that I would be able to see that you are not broken even when you yourself believe otherwise. You won’t fool me Beastie, you’ve still got a spark in you and until I see it snuffed out, we will continue as we are.” He pinched my cheek.

“Look at me! I’m everything you wanted!” I burst out, slapping his hand away.

“You are not!” he snapped, snatching my hand and crushing it in his grasp. I heard the pop of my bones as he broke them. “You will never be until you won’t breathe without my say so, until you won’t move unless I permit it. You are not perfect until you can’t be in water without fear of me pushing you under, until you can’t eat without the fear of never getting another meal.” His fingers threaded through my hair, jerking me up and steering me towards the bed.

With a shove, I toppled on top of it.

“You aren’t done until you learn to stop opening up your mouth.” He crawled on top of me, caging me in. His hands began their routine of removing my clothing.

I slapped and kicked at him, tears gushing from my eyes as I weakly tried to bat him away. He gathered my wrists into one hand, slapping them to the side of my head as one of his knees pinned my thigh with painful pressure to stop me from kicking.

“You aren’t perfected until you stop fucking fighting me!” he snarled, unbuckling his belt and drawing it out of the loops. He bound my wrists in the stiff leather, tying them to the headboard so he had one less thing to worry about.

“No! Stop!” I screamed at him, twisting my body this way and that to escape him.

“You aren’t broken until you stop commanding me and start taking orders obediently and silently!” he seethed, thrusting his body forward. With every harsh and invading movement, he recited one more fault I had.

In his eyes I was far from perfection. In my own I didn’t know what else I had left to give.

Only when I was sobbing in a pool of sweat, tears, bodily fluids and blood did my tormentor get off me. He left me tied to the bed, left me in this state to take care of myself.

“You will conform. I’ll make you see the errors of your ways,” he sneered, slamming the door on his way out.

A broken wail burst from my throat. I didn’t try to keep quiet. I didn’t care who heard me. I was in pain, stuck in these circumstances with no way out.

Twenty-eight variations of the mercury serum, a new one for every day and yet Myrin didn’t show any signs of stopping soon. Nearly a month since my attempted escape without another window of opportunity. I had tried to drown myself in the bathtub, but it never worked. I’d go to sleep for just a second before my body forced me awake, forced me to breathe. I couldn’t behead myself, slash my throat or rip out my heart without being able to activate my pure state so I had access to my claws.

Trapped, confined, caged into this life I did not want. Made to suffer the never-ending torment of the mercury. My own body was so toxic my blood had turned into its own variation of mercury. I would forever feel its effects through my bloodstream. The mercury cells had fused with my blood cells, mutating them to produce the damaged combination of my blood and the mercury that was forced to run through the same veins.

My fingers fumbled with the buckle of the belt tying my hands together. I shifted my body until I was sitting in an upright position to have easier access to the belt. Once I was free, I rolled off the bed, dragging myself to the shower. I despised taking baths after I’d been raped. I hated seeing the remnants floating around me.

Vigorously scrubbing at my skin, I left no inch of my body untouched. I stared at the drain, watching the semen and my silver blood disappear. My blood was no longer even the same substance as it used to be. It was thicker, almost congealed.

A sudden spell of dizziness had me falling against the tiled wall, my hand whipping out to catch myself. The turning of my stomach was the only warning I received before I vomited all over the shower. The smell was rancid, a mix of bile, food and blood.

I had taught myself how to function with my constant dosages of mercury, vomiting was a new thing that the last ten dosages had brought on. It was taxing on my body to expel the food I consumed. I desperately needed the nutrients. My body had barely packed on any weight in the last month even though I’d been consuming three meals a day.

Rinsing out my mouth with water, I then began to clean the shower from my vomit, soaping my body down again to clean off the chunks that splattered on my legs and to remove the smell with the strong mint fragrance.

My hand passed over my stomach and I felt another shift under my hand. I braced myself for another round of puking, but my stomach stayed down. I could feel the beating of my heart through my abdomen, although it was unusually high. It was above a normal heart rate and the mercury had reduced my own so that even when I was scared or nervous it only jumped to an average heart rate.

Placing one hand on my heart and the other on my stomach I was very confused to feel two very different patterns of heart beats. The one over my chest was the very slow beating that had become my normal, while the other one kept its rapid pace. Perplexed as to how this might be, I turned off the water thinking about the possible reasons as I stepped from the shower.

Nothing made sense, no theory or explanation I could come up with gave me an answer.

“It’s not like you’re pregnant,” I scolded myself, laughing dryly.

The thought entered and left quickly. After a delayed reaction, my eyes widened in horror. What if I was pregnant? The vomiting, the dizziness, the lack of gaining weight, it would all make sense. Why had I never thought this could be possible? Yes, Myrin had maliciously torn out my womb, but wights could easily regenerate organs. It should come as no surprise considering the number of times, I’d been raped that I was impregnated.

Questions swirled in my head, causing panic to swell up within me. Is this why I hadn’t gained any weight? The demon growing inside me was taking it all for itself? It was stealing everything its father hadn’t? How had it survived? How could it live within my battered and poisoned body? What affects would the mercury have on it? How long had I been pregnant for?

Pregnancy only lasted for around five months before females went into labor. The fetus would rapidly grow and develop for the first two months before slowing down as it began to develop the more complex features and mechanics of our bodies. I had no way of telling how far along I was since there was no accurate way to tell how much weight I had put on. I was still thin, my stomach nearly flat which meant the fetus couldn’t be that old.

Smell wouldn’t help me identify it. The changing scent of my blood was still messing with my nose. If I was pregnant, it would probably mask the scent of the little fetus growing unknowingly. Its own scent probably would not be the same as the rest of our species.

There were many unknown variables here. Would it be deformed and die in its early stages, would it be some super hybrid? All I knew was that nothing good could come of a product of such pain. It was the creation of something intended to punish and harm. Its mind would become infected by the thoughts Myrin would put in its head. Its heart would become twisted and gnarled, its soul black and decayed. I couldn’t allow such a thing to enter this world. We had too many monsters in it already.

I had to dispose of it now. Myrin didn’t know of its existence yet, if he were to find out he’d have me watched at all times and I’d never have the opportunity to kill it. I began to frantically search the room. There had to be something, anything I could use to rid myself of this evil. I tore through the dresser, tossing sheets, towels and clothing out of every drawer. Finding nothing, I ripped the whole drawer from the dresser, smashing it on the ground in anger.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please, if there really is a god, help me. Give me something.” I took a blind step forward, my foot stepping on the upside down drawer. The flimsy board flexed under my foot, my weight causing it to dip. My knee buckled at the movement and I looked down to see one of the tiny nails had come loose in the corner. The thin wood had separated from the thick box it was attached too.

Dropping to my knees, my fingers grabbed at the little corner and pulled with all the strength I could muster. I slid my hand down until I reached the base of another nail. Gripping it with my whole hand, I jerked my arm back, prying the nail loose. I repeated these motions until one side of the board was completely detached.

Taking the small board, I bent it back, stepping on it with all my weight until it snapped. Then I did it again, repeating my actions until I had a makeshift stake. I gripped the splintered wood in my hand tightly, this would be my salvation. The key to my ultimate escape.

Simply plunging it into my abdomen would do nothing. The fetus would simply heal itself from whatever damage I inflicted. If I wanted it dead there was only one way to do it. Cut it off from its life source.

Taking in a deep breath, I jabbed the stake into my stomach, yanking it to the left until there was a deep gash. With a steady hand I pushed through the open wound, my fingers searching for the monster.

Feeling what I was looking for I pulled, gritting my teeth against the pain. I drew out the sack from my body, the membrane still half attached to my womb.

Holding it there in my hand, the same size as my palm, was the beginnings of another male. Another monster like its father.

With a trembling hand I raised the makeshift stake and cut open the placenta. The fetus had already started to look like a person which meant I was over five weeks pregnant already. Just for a second, I regretted my decision but then I remembered what would happen if I didn’t do this. It would grow up, take after its father, do what was done to me to countless other females finding a sick pleasure in it.

Closing my eyes, I made the killing blow, snapping its last tie to my body, its life source, me.

The wood dropped from my hand the moment the deed was finished. A second later I vomited. Disgusted with myself, disgusted with the smell of blood, disgusted by the sight of the dead fetus. I was more of an abomination than the child ever could have been.

What mother could easily kill her own child? Yes, it was part of Myrin but it was also part of me.

It was my turn now. I had rid the world of a possible evil and now I had to rid it of an even greater one.

Me.

I picked up the shard, turning it on myself. It didn’t take much to draw it across my throat, to finally end it all and escape.

It was over now.

I was free.