What I Think
Ren Boldheart, The Kingdom of Aeris, between the events of Beg Pardon and Beg Mercy
Ren Boldheart, The Kingdom of Aeris, between the events of Beg Pardon and Beg Mercy
Ren let out a muted sound of pain as the whip connected with her skin, tearing a painful but thin line. It hurt, it hurt, it did, but she wouldn't give the satisfaction of screaming. Gareth knew her reaction to the stick, and no one else had bothered working in a carrot. Still, her eyes were glazed over with pain as her captor approached her from the front.
He had someone else to whip her, one of the guards. The one that was normally assigned to her; she didn't know his name. No, her actual in-house manager, she rarely ever saw. Apparently this had been a particularly egregious breach of the rules. Or maybe it was just because he'd already stripped everything away from her and, like Gareth, was running out of things to do. If his dick came out, she was going to be sick, but she halfway expected it.
"Ren, Ren... You never seem to learn," he said with a sigh. "No one enjoys this, you know. Just fall in line. Stop it with all of these disgusting rodents and just do what you're told, for once."
She glared at him. "Go tell it to yer mum the next time yer in bed with her," she snapped.
He sighed. "As foul as the vermin you call comrade. I suppose that's why you have them infest the kitchen."
"They're in the kitchen," she snarled. "Because I'm fucking hungry, Colin."
"Your caloric intake is calculated--"
"Fuck the calculation!" she shrieked in rage. "You're full of it! You just get off on starvin' me, you sick fuck! Nothin' funnier than managin' to make life worse for a homeless bitch! Jus' like when you fucks left out that poisoned shit!"
"That was for the rats, obviously."
"Oh fuckin' sure, just a poison sandwich for the fuckin' rats! I'm not an idiot! I know--"
Her manager raised his hand, and the whip came down on her back. Mid-yell the way she was, she couldn't stop the enraged, pained shriek.
"It doesn't matter what you think. If you'd learn that, then maybe we wouldn't have to keep repeating this-- Wait, yes, actually. Let's see if you can learn as well as a toddler. You can leave and go to bed just as soon as you repeat this to my satisfaction..."
---
It doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't matter what I feel. My life belongs to the King's Guard. My will belongs to the King's Guard.
Ren stared blankly at the far wall across from her bed. She couldn't lay on her back; the pain was too much despite the medical attention she'd gotten. Bandages with cooling ointment lay criss-crossed across her back, and a small meal of warm bread rested in her stomach, to help the medicine go down. See how good life could be when she let herself break?
To distract herself from the self-loathing, she thought of tomorrow, and thought of Gareth, who had only ever struck her on her ass, for sex stuff--she was pretty sure--and would be reduced near tears before he ever had her whipped.
Maybe tomorrow, she would ask him for some kind of help. She wasn't supposed to, and she knew smuggling things in for her might get him in trouble, but stealing as much as she had been wasn't feasible. She needed to find some other method to get what she needed, and some weakness to exploit to escape, and he was the only thing she had found in this place that wasn't completely hostile to her existence. The idea of taking advantage of it made her feel sick. But Sir Colin wasn't giving her a lot of options, here. If she kept getting hurt like this, she was worried that eventually she'd believe what she'd said.
And what would be left of her then?
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