Thread: Behind the Mask FoxWriter/HellRazor

The girl recoiled away from him, frightened. one man had already attacked her, she had stabbed him with a piece of shrapnel and he had fallen, dead into the hole she'd had to dig herself out of. he had tried to tear her dress right off of her and even in her stunned and hurt state she knew what he wanted from her. she calmed when he spoke, recognizing that he wasn't going to try and tear apart her tattered clothes. He said he would help her, and she had seen him shoot the two bad men who had been pawing at the bodies of the dead. that was a bad thing to do, steal from the dead. their spirits would come back from the depths and haunt you if you stole from them. no, not a good thing to do at all. many of the Merchants where surprisingly superstitious about such things, though she didn't exactly remember much about that either. She watched the man, studying him, wondering. when he picked her up, all the pain seamed to rush into her all at once and she cried out in agony, the corset pressing against the cuts, bruises and burns. his arms, gentle as they where, jarring her already sore and battered body, the broken bones felt as if they where splintering inside of her, spearing her with their jagged edges, they weren't really but that's the way it felt. she bit out a sob and then fell silent, trembling wildly in his arms but she didn't cry out again. tears where gathering in her eyes but they didn't fall. for a merchant, she was a tough little thing. It hurts. she whispered. worse than the time i fell out the fourth story window. my hands. i can't move my fingers. she mumbled. it was no surprise. they where torn to shreds and where swollen. she appeared to have actually dug her way free and her fingers where bleeding and scraped and cut badly enough that several of the lacerations, gotten when she crawled through the Debris, would need stitches. they would have to be soaked first though because the dirt was ground into her skin so deeply it would likely have to be dug out of her. especially as the merchants where greedy pigs and hoarded all of the good medicine for themselves. wounds like hers, in the care of the Merchants, would take days, a week tops to heal. with the medicine that Kalibar could get her to now she could take up to a month to get well enough to move on her own efficiently. her left leg and right arm appeared to be broken, and she would be damn lucky if her neck or back wasn't broken, cracked or otherwise damaged as well. still, she was able to sit up on her own when he set her down, so that was something at least. Remember? there was fire. she whispered. so much fire everywhere. i had to dig, the glass was over me but there wasn't any air so i had to dig. she whispered, trying so hard to keep her focus on him. there was a man. he grabbed me by the hair and shook me hard, and said if i screamed he'd have to share. i didn't understand, he started tearing at my dress... she looked at Kalibar, those gorgeous eyes vacant, so vacant. i stabbed him. she admitted. a lot. he bled so much but i was scared and he was going to... my leg hurt too much, so i crawled. looking for something... i don't know what. i can't remember... looking for something... she mumbled, tilting dangerously forward. slumping as her entire body went lax and limp. she'd passed out, the pin and fright too much to handle now that she was moderately safe. really he was lucky she had managed to crawl away from her would be rapist at all, let lone give him some semblance of a conversation, no matter how disjointed it was. truly they where lucky her mind hadn't shattered, lucky she was alive at all. that, in the end was what it all boiled down to. luck.