Flashbacks of the past -

 

A young girl kneels on the floor of some damp and musty dungeon. Hands bound by restraints, and a tattered gown soaked with splatters of her own blood clung to her form. She's barely conscious as a dim yellow washes over her. It barely illuminates the pale, dirt dusted foliage of her skin, and she's in so much anguish she can't speak. A fresh surgery done today. A doctor hired to scramble her up even more. She's gone through several modifications, one would think she would be used to the procedures. Bound to the throes of slavery for so long, she's almost lost touch with who she is entirely. Still, anger bubbles in the pit of her stomach, and she can vaguely recall foul play. As it does... A searing burn crawls up the back of her skull. It feels something like a parasitic infection, and all she can do in response is hiss in pain. She feels like she is on fire and the rewiring begins to take over, making the anger quickly dissipate. "CLACK.CLACK.CLACK." The sound of footsteps against cold concrete echoes somewhere outside the door, and she knows that he's coming to see her again. When the creak of the door opening is heard, it sends a chill down her spine. She can hear his voice. It's filled with such sick and demented perversion, and her stomach turns. His grotesque form enters the room and that same yellow wash brings to light the monster that has made her darkest nightmares reality. Swallowing hard she tries to keep down the gags that are starting to become uncontrollable. She can smell him as he closes in, and she wishes to be anywhere else. As she realizes that wish will not be granted, her anger resurfaces. Murderous intent sets in, and she wants nothing more than to kill him in the most horrid ways imaginable, but she can't... He's her father, and he's a good father right? A clogged hand reaches down to scoop up a fistful of her hair. He yanks her up to her feet, then pulls her against him. Forced to look up into his cold dead eyes, he laughs that depraved and perverted laugh that has become all to familiar to her. Burrowing his face against the crook of her neck he inhales her scent, and groans in delight. The feeling of his slick tongue trailing saliva over her skin as he laps up the side of her neck, makes her blood boil once again. He stops just below her ear, and she's now enraged. "Get -- the --f***..." She growls and her demonic aura rises. All she can focus on is attacking him, but fate is cruel and the effects of the newest modification take over. Her growl turns into a pained whimper and she submits, unable to finish her sentence. It feels like her head is being split in two. "How do you like your birthday gift? I had it implanted this morning. I'm such a generous father aren't I? I even have something a little better for you on the way. Say thank you and remember what a good father I am." His hot breath tickles her skin as he speaks. She cringes and her heart sinks deep into her chest. Defeat takes over and all she can do is try to dissociate from and endure what happens next. He seems to not notice at all.In fact, he continues his brutal assault. Every touch, every penetration breaking her in new ways. Only once he has satisfied his every carnal need, does he toss her back to the ground. Her raggedy gown torn almost completely off her bruised and branded body. A forceful cough from the back of her throat and that vomit threatening to take over throughout the whole ordeal, finally escapes. She raises her hands to cover her mouth and tries to keep herself from getting sick all over the floor she will have to sleep on. The stinging, warm sensation of tears fill up, and spill past the rims of her eyes. Several blinks later and her cheeks are soaked with salty pearls. They don't stop, and in that moment... She wishes she were dead.