[‹𝟹] (Hurt no comfort) [EXPLICT I MEAN IT]
tw: violence, blood, broken bones, assault, sexual assault, manipulation, r@pe, sexual abuse, child death, miscarriages, and first person.
In the distance you hear the echoes of trace voices while yours is forced down. That tongue entangling with your tongues as it forces its way into your mouth. Those claws tearing away your dignity and protection. The way you attempted to pled with it before having your leg shattered to prevent you from running. Your trembling hands held tightly against the ground as it pounced onto you, forcing you against the wall. All the while the stars turn a blind eye to your tears and silent screams. This was one of their own violating you, after all. Why should they look at you? You are a broken puppet in their dazzling eyes. Its dazzling eyes. They all looked the same after awhile.
Every day was the same. Wake up, get dressed, then have your clothes ripped off as you were used and abused. Again, and again. It was an endless cycle of pain and suffering. Nothing made it stop. Not the way you begged, nor the way you dressed. It was pointless fighting anymore.
It always spoke gentle words after the act, then showered you in gifts, promising you it would be gentle next time. It never was. It never would be. Its claws piercing into your ecto body as it took you again and again. Until you were overstimulated or it was bored. Repition at its finest if you will, if you could see it as any thing other than abuse. Anything other than suffering at the hands of a being higher than the gods themselves. A being that held no morals the way you, a demi-god a half-breed as the gods called you, did. They were far from anything holy, the opposite of the books you so graciously cared for with every fiber of your soul. A soul that was slowly shattering as this continued. The pieces of it held together by your strings, a bandaid on a bullet hole when you needed the bullet out first.
Nothing ever changed for years. You grew used to those claws on your body, the way you screamed, the way it spoke, all of it. You grew to welcome it in a way. Though, maybe that was your first mistake. Welcoming the abuse, welcoming the intrusions into your ecto body, and allowing yourself to be taken advantage of. It was the first of many mistakes you would make.
You never knew if it would ever change. You destroyed your body over and over only to have that thing repair it to play with you again while telling you to "Not harm that pretty body of yours" as it carefully caressed your face. Then turned violent as you pushed that clawed hand off of you. It never felt...right. it would never feel...right. Being used for your body like this should never feel right, no matter the circumstances. No matter how much you thought you deserved it, how much you had prayed to the gods to hurt you, you did not deserve this sort of cruel and unusual punishment. Every inch of your body was no longer yours. It was that beings now. You belonged to it, like some shameless sex whore.
It hurt. It would always hurt. No matter how much you wash your body, no matter how much you try to smile, or how you try to push it off. It would always hurt. Every child you conceived destroyed in an instant by the same claws that put it in you. As soon as the being found out about the anomaly in your soul, it tore it out with brutal precision. "I refuse to allow a half-breed carry my heir. I am capable of having far better mates than you. You will never be my mate." It told you while it tore out the small beginnings of the new soul. Your new soul.
Why was everything you made destroyed? Why did destruction and devastation follow you like a lunar cycle? Maybe you would fall into that category, that role, that title, one day. Perhaps you already did. Maybe in another timeline, you took that up before all of this. You may never know, or you could already know everything. By the way your soul dims, it is likely you already knew of those worlds you would never be a part of. Fate chuckled as you attempt to escape the claws around your neck. An eternal vice on, that was inescapable.
Your attempts to break away only fueled the beings sick desire for a chase. A desire so deep set in the liquid surrounding its soul that the behavior is impossible to break away from. Why would the being even attempt to break away in the first place? It enjoyed the behavior. Right? Right? If it did not enjoy it, why did it continue? It had the ability to cut off the behavior. Right? Right? You did not understand it.
Perhaps you would never understand it. Why should you even try? It never attempted to understand you. Why should you try to understand it? If it refused to put in the effort, why should you? That simply was not a worthy trade in your sick mind. The mind it had reshaped with far more than simply abuse. Manipulation was that things second tactic to keep you in line. It would whisper to you in that echoed voice, "You know you are incapable of running because you have grown to love me. Am I wrong, pet~?" You knew saying 'yes' or 'no' would land you in the same place, on your stomach mated senseless. That event became desensitized the longer this drew on.
This "game" of the stars and fate against you. You would never win. Your pleas were never heard; they fell onto deaf ears. The stars averted their gaze as fate laughed at your demise. This was destined for you. In another timeline you did something to deserve this treatment. You deserved this, you monstrosity.
Your very being would slip deep in the creatures outstretched claws. An effortless catch. To it you were prey to a hungry wolf. A fox in a bag only let out when it came to being hunted by the hounds. Gnashing teeth around your throat, sinking into the bone, all the while the hunter laughed at your yips and screams. They were shattered sounds as your vertebra snapped between trained canines. Bones splintering underneath paws greater than yours. You would always be the fox in a hound hunt.
Maybe, it was time to become the hound.