Blood Slave Part 1

Her wrists were bound tight to the freezing cold cement wall, cutting off her circulation. Ayla could feel the blood desperately trying to pump its way to her fingers, but it was no use. Her fingers were useless. They had stopped working hours ago, so who the hell was she trying to kid? They were even turned a brilliant deep purple color and here she was trying to make them move. F*cking useless. All the blood in the world couldn’t make her fingers work anymore. They had stopped and it was fucking stupid to try and make them work again. Pointless. Utterly pointless. It was a waste of her precious time that she was already short on. He would be coming back any minute now. She needed to get away.

Lifting her head, her neck collar, which was made out of pure silver, clanked in response to her movement. When she tried to take a deep breath in, the collar wouldn’t allow her neck to expand to the right size to let her get a deep breath in. Letting her cherished air out, Ayla coughed with great force, setting her throat back on fire. The pain shot through her throat, burning holes straight through her tissue. Flames licked the sides and continued to cause tons of unwanted pain.

Tears formed in her bright hazel eyes, warming her cheeks up, preparing herself for the free falling tears that were about to spill. Her breath, that was already limited, was beginning to come out in short pants. Then, before the tears could slip from Ayla eyes, a door slammed, and footsteps clumped down on the solid cement ground.

Ayla closed her eyes. He was here.

~*~*~*~

Screams. Screams of bloody murder erupt from Ayla’s room. Justin leapt out of his bed and ran toward his daughter’s room. Kicking open the door, he spots Ayla, eyes closed, thrashing around under the bed covers. Sprinting to her side, Justin shakes Ayla awake. Her eyes open, revealing dull, faded, forest green eyes. They had once been bright, vivid hazel ones like her mother Serene’s, but after the incident; they had faded into a dull, unattractive color. They were lifeless. Ayla was lifeless.

Ayla’s eyes searched frantically into her fathers black ones, frightened and afraid. She then screamed again, but much louder then the first time. Justin pulled his daughter tight against his body, trying to comfort her in any possible way he could. Ayla was so different now. Her attitude and her emotions weren’t her own. Justin whimpered. What could he do? He couldn’t make Ayla forget her past, he wished he could, but it was impossible. If anything, it was she who could make herself forget, not her father, or anyone else for that matter. It was her decision to let it go. But he didn’t blame her for crying about it. It was horrible and she was the last person who should have been violated and tortured.

~*~*~*~

She was strapped to a freezing metal table. The cold shivered up her body, making her nerves die down so that they felt nothing. Leather straps tied her down, not letting her move an inch. The pain swept through her, like running water flowing down a hill on a stormy night. The agony of all this was making her break down, but she couldn’t afford to breakdown and cry now. She needed to be hydrated for the rest of the week. With water only given to her every so often when she really needed it to survive, he gave it to her, but no more then she needed to survive off of.

The door slammed open, and foot steps made there way just out of Ayla’s sight. "Hello Ayla," came a voice out of the darkness, "I came to see how you were holding up."

Ayla stayed silent, because she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of him getting to her. Her face she kept unemotional and she kept her eyes closed.

A low chuckled laugh greeted her and disturbed the silence

~*~*~*~