A Queen Among Darkness

Hello!

My eyes snap open and my body jolts to life as I’m awoken by the sound of agonised screams. I slowly sit up, my muscles protesting from fatigue, dehydration, and starvation while I lean my head back against the cement wall. I close my eyes and try to block out the screams that float down the corridor and into my cell, making me wonder when it will be my turn next.

Three days. I’ve spent three days in this cell with my body wasting away as I listen to the sounds of torture. I’d complain, but I don’t see the point. After all, I put myself in this situation. No, that’s not me being self-deprecating, I mean I LITERALLY put myself here. Though I wasn’t supposed to be here this long waiting for another prisoner to show up, so we can chalk this one up to poor timing on my part. Visions really should come with time and date stamps. Would make my life much… okay, it wouldn’t make my life EASIER, but it would allow me to help others just a tad more efficiently.

Four days ago I had a vision of a mutolupus being brought to these cells, only to be tortured and killed. I never know how the visions come to me; I just know if they do it means I’m supposed to help. Perhaps it’s insane of me to put so much faith in intrusive images in my head, but I have very little I can hold onto. My visions remind me that I have a purpose and that maybe there’s a reason for my suffering. There’s a reason I’m still here. So, I see each vision as a step towards a greater goal. I just have no idea what that goal is. At least I’m able to save some lives in the meantime, and that has to count for something… right?

The only problem with visions is they don’t often come with a clear sense of time. They might reference something happening hours, days, or weeks from now, so it’s up to me to decide whether to act now or wait. I’m usually rather good at assessing them and deducing if this is an immediate upcoming event or something in the distant future. This time I was rather close, but sadly off by a couple of days, and sweet Goddess am I kicking myself for that.

I glance down the rows of barred, occupied cells to the single window that casts a small ray of light from the morning sun into this otherwise dark and dank prison. I would give anything to be able to feel its warmth on my skin if only to replenish my strength, but I’m stuck in this cold hellhole with nothing to provide warmth but the clothes on my back. Which aren’t looking too good, to be honest.

I close my eyes and try to focus on meditating and preserving what little strength I have left when a large object being slammed against the bars of my cell – causing an unpleasant ringing in my ears – gains my attention.

“Aww, did I interrupt the little bruja’s beauty sleep?” I open my eyes to see the face of the latest person to make it onto my shit list. “What, cat got your tongue? Your kind love cats, right?” He says mockingly through his very present Mexican accent.

“Estás perro si bien pendejo,” I say in an apathetic tone.

Very quickly his dark brown eyes narrow into slits and his nostrils flare with rage as his hands fist the bars to my cell. “The fuck did you just say to me, puta?” He seethes.

“Sorry, I was under the impression you spoke Spanish, but I can say it again in English if you prefer?” I say in a bored tone.

“You must have a death wish,” he sneers.

“I don’t really fear death, but I bet you do,” I tell him as the ghost of a smile dances on my lips. His tough exterior falters for just a moment, but the rage returns with greater intensity than before.

He places his hand on the electronic pad on my cell and after a ding sounds, the cell door opens. Slowly, his 5’8 frame steps into my cell with a sadistic smirk on his clean-shaven, olive-toned face as his dark brown eyes stare down at me with dark intent. I don’t flinch or cower as he unzips his jacket exposing his ripped body to my eyes. I don’t know what that does for some people but to each their own. To my utter disgust, he begins rubbing his hand over his crotch, rubbing his dick through his jeans as he licks his lips in a way that has bile rising up my throat.

“You know, I’m not into fat chicks, but with tits like yours I’d be willing to make an exception,” he says in a low, gruff voice as he steps closer.

On instinct, I roll my eyes at yet another person going for the easy insult of commenting on my weight. Yes, call the fat woman fat, how original. Want to tell me water is wet as well? Moron. A groan leaves my mouth as the son of a bitch grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back hard. “Did you just roll your fucking eyes at me?” He spits.

“Congratulations, you can read body language,” I mock.

“Pinche coño,” he seethes as he begins unbuckling the belt of his pants. I try to yank my hair free from his grasp but the mercury bars around my cell have my body too weak to do much of anything, and the lack of food and water isn’t helping my strength either. I would love to use my magic to slam this guy’s head into a wall, but I haven’t been able to feel for my magic since I was tossed in here, which can only indicate the presence of nuummite somewhere. Probably embedded in the very foundations of the rock.

Just as he’s nearly done unzipping his fly, an enraged voice calls out from behind him. “Mateo!” Booms the voice, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The livid voice asks in disgust.

I glance towards the open cell door to see one of my other captors. An older version of the dickhead who has my hair in a vice. He’s standing at 5’10 in a very expensive all-black suit, with no tie and an open shirt. He has salt and pepper hair, salt and pepper goatee and dark brown eyes. His undoubtedly once olive skin is now more beige in tone, except for the hint of liver spots near his eyes. He looks to be in his fifties, but even with the signs of age, the authority he exudes says he’s not someone to be messed with. I bet he’s even more ripped than his son. Though someone has to tell these men that muscles do not equate to strength.

“Was just about to teach this puta some respect, papá.”

“Do not disgrace yourself or this family with such vile behaviour. Do your job or get the fuck out of my sight,” the senior orders.

Mateo leans down and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to wish he hadn’t interrupted,” he says as he then proceeds to drag me out of the cell by my hair. I grasp his hands trying to stop him from pulling my hair out at the roots as I struggle to break free of his hold. He’s fucking strong for a human. I feel the flesh of my feet and legs being grazed as I’m dragged along the harsh cement floor of the dungeon until I’m dragged into a pristine, white exam room. The smell of industrial cleaning chemicals fill my nostrils and have my stomach churning. Shit, not this room again. I make one last futile attempt to break free, but I’m just too drained. Junior and senior lift me up and strap me to what I can only describe as a dentist’s chair, in a room that looks like a dentist clinic from hell. White walls and floors cause the white light glaring down on me to only burn brighter and I have to shut my eyes to stop the stinging it causes my retina.

I peek my eyes open and see the tray of instruments beside me and I know exactly what’s coming. The same shit that happened on my first day here. Why? Why can’t visions come with fucking time stamps?!