The Demon Knows My Vice

With each passing moment, Mariah felt herself slipping further away, retreating into the deepest recesses of her mind as she sought to dissociate herself from the atrocity being committed against her. An icy numbness began to creep over her, a merciful reprieve from the searing pain that had moments before been all she could comprehend. Lacerations from his punishing grip stung with the sweat and heat, while her insides seared with every brutal invasion of Moros’ grotesque form. Images of her cozy den filled her mind: the warm golden firelight, the earthy aroma of potted herbs, and the comforting familiarity of her sanctuary. With Caedes. The vividness of the memories seemed to cast a momentary shield over her battered spirit, her mind clinging desperately to the safe haven that felt galaxies away. She could almost feel the soft fur of Caedes beside her, their bodies curled together in the den's comforting warmth. The soothing rhythm of his breath, steady and assured- she could almost hear it.

The piercing pain from Moros's claws were a brutal reminder, dragging her back into the present. Her trembling limbs pushed against the cold ground in a futile effort to pull away from him, but it only served to amuse him more.

His deep, cruel laughter echoed around them, the sound reverberating around her. Inside of her. It was more than she could bear. A whimper escaped her as she turned her gaze away from his gleeful face, away from the predatory gleam in his eyes. She closed her own silver orbs, refusing to let him see any more of her fear; it was a small act of defiance but it was all she had left in this moment of wretchedness. He was strong, but she had her own strength too - even if it was dwindling away with every violation of her being. It’s only pain. It’s only pain. Repeating the mantra to herself in an effort to distance herself from the brutal reality. It’s only pain.

She retreated further into herself, her mind recoiling from the raw pain and humiliation. Her body was a battlefield, her spirit the casualty of his vile satisfaction. His words, viscously cruel and piercing, echoed in her ears. Nobody is coming to save you. He had sneered with sadistic delight. Each word, each mockery, was like a dagger plunged into the heart of her pride. Her spirit whimpered and trembled within its sickly, violated husk, reeling from the torment. She hated it. Hated him. His relentless assault that was ripping her apart, piece by piece. Each driving thrust, chipping away at her dignity and resilience. She longed to collapse to the ground, her legs gave way from beneath her long ago but of course, he kept her hips propped where he wanted them- blood dripping down her inner thigh from his hold. Both of their weights supported with the crushing force at the back of her skull. Yet, it was his sickening euphoria that revolted her the most - the twisted pleasure he derived from her suffering. The laughter, the gleeful savagery. She hated him.

Something snapped inside Mariah, some tether to reality that had been holding her together in the midst of the brutality. Scream! Give up and scream! No longer could she bear the scalding touch of his claws against her raw skin, nor the agonizing stretch of her body under his monstrous weight. He wanted her to cry out- and of course, she had, but she would not grant him the satisfaction he so desperately craved - the satisfaction of her surrender, the satisfaction of her screams. So, she willed herself to silence. That was her strength. It was all the strength she had left.

"Mariah Mendacium"