Warning: This writing is super old. Make sure to check out the video of me making fun of it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k27V_t7XJrY

Surrounding Darkness

His dark, blood red hair was on his shoulders. His red eyes the devil himself would fear were narrowed, staring darkly at the teenage girl. Her heart pounded against her chest, her breath was short. Each time this man moved, her heart skipped a beat. She was pinned against a cold steel wall, a hand of death around her neck. Horrible thoughts clouded her mind. She tried her best to push those thoughts away as the man continued to interrogate her, “Why do you continue to lie?!” he yelled. She couldn’t answer him, she had no idea what he was talking about. She stayed silent, shaking with fear. The man frowned, but then his lips formed a cruel grin. A shadow swept around her as his hand released her, throwing her to the ground hard, pressing down against her lungs, pressing her against the cold, unwelcoming steel ground. He growled, cursing under his breath, turning to look at her darkly, the grin appearing on his face again. Her eyes widened with fear, blurting out the first thing that came to mind:

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” she cried shakily. The truth, but the wrong answer all the same. The man chuckled at her response, “Alright then.” he said. The shadow whipped her to her feet, closing in around her. She could barely breathe. Then, suddenly, unprovoked, it slammed her against the nearest wall. What was left of her breath left her, blood flying from her lips, into the air. The shadow released her as she fell to her knees. She swayed, her head ringing, struggling to stay awake.

“Please..” she whispered horsely, “Please..”

The man knelt next to her, shaking his head, looking down at his hand that balanced him. “Dear child, why continue to do this? You know where it is.”

“Where what…what is..?” she breathed, swaying again, her head ringing louder. She was slowly losing her fight for consciousness. The man whipped his head up, glaring at her, his hand pressing against her neck, pressing her hard against the wall.

“STOP SAYING THAT! YOU KNOW WHERE IT IS!”

She tried to say something, opening her mouth, the words becoming wordless. Her lids slowly closed, and she fell limp in his hand. He released her, letting her fall to the ground, more blood trailing from her lips onto the ground around her.

“Damn!” he howled, standing up and turning towards the door.

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“My King,” the man hissed, bowing reluctantly, “she is unconscious. She tells me nothing of interest.”

The king turned to him, looking away from the map pinned across the throne room. He wore no crown, only a ring on his right hand, of two dragons chasing each other. His eyes were dark, the torchlight making him seem devilish.

“You know what hour it is.” He said cooly, turning back to the map, as if not interested.

“Yes, my King, but she-”

“SILENCE!” He whipped around, glaring at him, “You chose to gather this girl under your own will, after my strict orders against it! You are nothing but a servant to me.” The cloaked figure’s eyes narrowed, his spine straightening, forcing out the words: “Yes…My King.”

The King laughed, echoing in the room, “I will have nothing to do with this, demon. Get out of my throne room.”

The cloaked figure clenched his teeth, then bowed, walking out of the room. He fingered the knife under his cloak, a werewolf coming up to him, his fur black. He remained quiet, waiting for orders.

“Kill the guards tonight.” He growled, then proceeded to the girl’s prison, finding her still unconscious. The smell of blood hung in the air around him, and he stared down at the crumpled figure. She lay sprawled out, her arms bent around her head, her chest rising painstakingly slow. A small trail of blood came from her open lips. He stooped over her and put out his hand, inches from her flesh, now being consumed in darkness. A black aura descended onto her arm, and the girl screamed out with pain. The shadows seemed to turn white next to her arm.

                       The girl clutched the top of a pine tree, struggling to breathe normally. Pain gripped her each time her chest rose. Painfully, she looked over the forest that lay in flames before he; only her tree stood tall. Smoke choked her air, and her heart ached as she saw the ant-like animals running for shelter. They would not make it. And neither would she if she didn’t find a way out. The red tongues of doom swallowed up the forest until the flames were licking her twenty foot tree. The flames roared out in a dark voice, “Tell me, do you wish to die? Do you wish to parish like all those who denied me?”

Bravely, she responded, “I deny you, your king”-she spat-“and all of your evil, that’s what I oppose!”

The flames roared out, another wrong answer. The tree then suddenly perished, the flames burning her arms, and she found herself falling, the unwelcoming flaming ground speeding towards her. She hit the ground hard, the flames moving away from her, pain welcoming her. She weakly rolled onto her back, lifted herself up on her elbows painfully, and warily looked around. The shadowed figure that described fear itself walked forward out of the flames and into the small circle of burnt ground.

“You like to bring pain onto yourself, don’t you?” He reached down, gripped her neck and pulled her up off the ground. He smirked with cruelty in his eyes. “What are you hiding? What secrets are causing you to injure yourself? I’m dying to know.”

She remained silent; she refused to give in.

He laughed darkly, his eyes peering into hers. He knew she was fearful, and spoke words that would break her: “Then a whip will rip your flesh, and your blood will lay around you until you tell.”

His eyes showed his pleasure in breaking her down, slowly fading away, his hand remaining solid until the very end. She fell to the ground, wincing, reality forcing her back.

She was pulled away from her nightmare, her senses slowly coming back. She felt the cold, steel ground beneath her, the smell of blood hanging in the air, and she reluctantly opened her eyes. She   looked   up   and   saw   eyes   of   death   upon   her, accompanied by a dark, evil grin.

“Welcome back,” he growled.

Terrified, she stammered, “P-please, don’t-”

“Don’t what? Harm you?” He laughed evilly. “Winter, I’ve already done that.”

Her name? Was that her name?

She looked at her arms and gasped. Burns covered parts of her left(?) arm, and the dark mark covered the other. He was clearly enjoying her fear as her blue eyes were filled with tears. He got to his feet, cherishing her fear as she jumped to her feet quickly, holding her arm close to her and backing up. A dark chuckle left him, “Welcome to Hell.” He advanced towards her, but before she was within arms length of him, the door swung heavily open behind him. Furious, he turned sharply around.

“Forgive me Avellere,” the werewolf said, and, for an unknown reason to Winter, he bowed, “but the King”-he spat-“wishes to see you.” Filled with rage, he darkly glanced back at Winter, who cowered, and walked out, whispering something to the tall werewolf. The creature’s brown fur moved with the breeze of Avellere’s passing, and he looked with distaste at Winter. Growling, he closed and locked the steel door, leaving her alone, cloaked in shadow. Winter’s lip quavered as she fought back tears, sliding down the wall to the ground. She brought her knees to her, wrapping her arms around them, and pressing her head on them.

I’m going to die, she thought, there’s no way I can survive this. Jesus, you left me! God, you’re letting me die! Dear Holy Spirit, you’re sucking me dry! She cried out in anger and hopelessness, and collapsed on the ground, falling to her side, and that’s when she noticed. It wasn’t long until Avellere had her. It wasn’t long until he’d have her secret. And she realized he wasn’t going to kill her. He was going to keep her alive.

I wish to die, then. She thought darkly.

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She woke in the dim morning to see the werewolf from the previous night just lifting his hands from her neck. He stepped back and smiled a toothy grin. Winter felt heaviness around her neck, and felt a freezing steal collar around her. She tried to gasp but it did not allow her neck expand far enough to breath deeply. Her only thought was that she was now demoted to a dog.

“Wait here,” commanded the creature’s hoarse voice. As if she had a choice! The wolf creature left and Winter got up stiffly; the chains were heavier than she expected.  She dragged herself to the barred window and looked out at the beautiful sun rise. Red and orange hung above the sun as large clouds flew overhead. She sighed and picked up the long chain leash from her collar. She looked at it and fought to keep the tears away; she didn’t want Avellere to feel accomplished.

But what’s the use? I’m already in his clutches. I’m already going to be broken. I’m-

The sound of footsteps forced her to look up, and the bloodthirsty smirk welcomed her.

“Hello, Winter.” He chuckled as she sorely looked away. “I suppose you’re still not telling then.” Winter remained silent. Again, he smirked then tugged on her chain. She staggered forward, reaching to the wall for support. She gasped, then the collar dug into her neck, making her wince. Avellere laughed, and wrapped the chain around his hand and pulled her out of her cell. She was breathing as deep as she could, but couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. He grinned darkly at her struggle, and pulled her along.

Avellere lead her to a large room with a steel pole in the center. Winter’s chain was tied to it and she could not look back.

“Here,” Avellere said behind her, “you can do the honors.” She heard laughter and a werewolf howled. She heard a whip crack, readying for the torture, and she clenched her eyes close. She chewed her lip and embraced for her torture.

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Her back was now viciously ripped open and bloody as she was thrown into her cell. She had collapsed during the beating and was thrown while still cringing. She hit the floor hard, and the ground was stained with her blood. It flooded the ground around her, and she clenched her eyes closed. Winter weakly coughed and rolled onto her side to take pressure off her back. She held herself back from screaming, and cringed at the sound of her name: “Winter.”

Avellere walked into her cell, and stared down at her. “Do you really wish to continue this way?” She stayed silent as always. A forceful hand grabbed her chin and she looked into the red eyes that stared at her blue. Her eyes were dull, full of fear and hopelessness, but also of pain.

“Answer me when I speak to you!”

Winter hesitated, but spoke,  “No.”

“Why do you continue?!”

“To watch you fail.”

Avellere growled and pushed her head down into the steel ground, and Winter screamed a shrieking, blood freezing scream. She pushed her burnt arm under her head, using the other to slowly pull herself away from him. He looked at her in disgust, “I would kill you if that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Are you so sure?” Winter sobbed.

He knelt down and examined his fearful yet brave prisoner. He moved away her red hair and whispered into her ear, “Actually, I have other plans for you and that bloody king.” He wrapped his hands around her neck and the collar fell off in a pool of blood. Then he got up and left the room, locking the door after him, leaving Winter sobbing.

“Tomorrow!” Winter cried out in desperation, “tomorrow you’ll know!”

No answer.

She looked warily around her, fearing the darkness, but knew she wasn’t strong enough to move. She lost consciousness, her blood surrounding her, the whip having ripped open her flesh. Just as Avellere foretold.