Pain. so much pain. Anger, coupled with fear. Delusional and forced back to her very primal instincts. She fought hard against her chains, but they would not break. She tried to reach out with her mind, but all she could feel was pure hatred.

She growled, her human teeth pulled back into an animalistic snarl. Her eyes bled red and she was in pain, so much pain.

She couldn't hear the malicious laugh or the faint wisp of a plea, too wrapped up in her own personal demons and his cruelest torture. She never figured out that the voice was one of hope, not of this deep, deep despair she had brought upon herself.

Furious and terrified, she built a wall. Keep it away, keep it out, no more pain. But she felt her back explode in internal torture, her bones straighten then curl, re-growing themselves oh-so excruciatingly.

She couldn't stop it. She wouldn't cry, but she couldn't do anything else.

And yet she fought, always fighting, against the cold metal chains that shredded and tore against her boiling body, against the sinister voice that promised help. She would trust no one, and then this pain could end.

Suddenly there was blissful silence. Her vision was gone, the voices had ceased there insistent pleas and it was white and pure and good. She couldn't feel her body and for a moment she could believe that he had killed her and she could rest.

And then the world exploded into a world of color and pain and noise and she screamed, the sound ripping from her chest. It was the cry of someone in so much desolation that they would do anything to lessen the despair they had succumbed to. This was the worst part, the part where for one moment she flew high, high enough that no one could reach her and she could touch the stars themselves, and the next she had plummeted straight into a ragged spear that left her breathless.

The world was sickeningly clear, her mind fighting with the voice every step of the way. She would not be defeated. She was alone in this world and always would be. Trust was what led her here, and in one instant she was ready to give everyone away, if only to save herself. She was selfish and cruel and she wanted out. Her own self-disgust was overridden by the pain.

But she opened her blurry eyes, weary to the world but secretly wanting back in, and she saw him. His pitch black eyes and darkened soul that went along with it. His bloody hands. And she lost it.

She remembered. Their terrified faces. The whisper of a supplication. Of a way out. Of the blood, so much blood. And of his triumph face. Of the way he laughed when he realized that he had defeated one of them. And hadn't even lifted a hand to do so.

And she was so angry and so pissed and so defeated that it was all she could do to hold back a whimper that she knew would turn to a scream a roar or something that would only further his enjoyment. That would tell of the immense pain she was in. It was all she could do to keep a fragile hold on her own mind.

She shouldn't let the voice in, oh no, but she couldn't keep it out. It told of hope, a way to break free, and yet it was tinged with sadness and it's own pain, and she didn't want to take that on. Hope led to despair, and she had enough torture of her own. But she was too tired to resist and knew nothing could be worse.

And suddenly something flew into her, taking away her life and her breath. And she realized there were worse things then this. Because the memory of her death, the realization that she had sunk into the lowest pit possible, was almost as horrible as the physically pain she was subjected too. Every bone ached and every possible orifice screamed in agitation, and her own her mind was right there, howling along with it. She didn't want to remember anything.

But the howl wasn't one of pain. It was howling in triumph and in hope and happiness and she realized that the voice was not evil and was not there to fly her back up again only to let her down. It was trust and it was her and yet something else entirely.

It was power.

And they joined, and her resolution and determination, and it's faith and it's joy formed a bond that overrode his. And she felt the cold metal chains snap and her mind go peacefully blank and her emotions quieting down into nothing, and she only knew how to run, run far away. Past him, past all of them, and towards the light. Light meant escape. Either towards her world, her life, or towards her death. At this point, she welcomed either.

And she crawled up, staggering but doing so swiftly. And in one quick blow she felt the air rush towards her, the stagnant feeling of that bottomless below blown away in one fell swoop. She was free and open and no one could confide her.

But she felt arms wrap around her, containing her and she curled back her lips again. No one would trap her again. No one would take away her freedom. But she recognized this being, knew this cold but comfortable smell, and relaxed, knowing somewhere deep within that she was safe. He couldn't get up here, because he was dead and she was alive and that's all there was to it.

She closed her eyes, suddenly tired, so tired. Only faintly did she hear that usually proud and almighty voice plea with her brokenly, telling her not to go. She tried to reassure the voice that she wasn't going anywhere, not back there, and she was going to live forever just to spite him and everything he stood for. But of course the words did not come out, and she could only shake her head slightly, restless. The arms tightened.

'It's over,' someone whispered directly into her ear, and she could hear it, even though it was underwater and muffled. 'I've got you.'

And she trusted the voice because somewhere she knew it, and because the other voice, the one that was her and yet not, reassured her that they would take care until she had regained some strength. So she let the darkness overtake her, let blissful silence scream at her until she felt no more.

And then it was darkness. Peaceful, beautiful darkness.