Chapter 6: The Waters of Marah
Background: After accidentally killing a carnival worker, Myka ran away and lived as best she could in the wild. But the occasional human hunter fell prey to her superior predatory skills. The strings of deaths caught the attention of Hector who used his werewolves to track his missing prize. She was found, disabled, and captured, finding herself back in her vampire master's dungeon.
She felt cold stone pressed against her cheek. She recognized the feeling. The scent was somehow familiar. She knew the smell, a slight thread of death seemed to weave like smoke through the air. She trembled, and her eyes flung open. She remembered where she was. She had been here before.
"Welcome home," Hector smirked. She stood up to run at him, to tear him to pieces, but was jerked back by chains and fell back to the icy floor. She caught her breath and looked at her bound wrists. She tugged slightly against them. They would not give anytime soon. Then her attention was brought to the pressure on her neck. She raised her hand and touched it. A metal collar. Hector laughed. "Don't you like your new bit of jewelry? I made it especially for you. It locks, and only I have the key. See?" He held out his hand, snapped his ring up, and she could see it was a key.
"Let me go, you bastard!"
Hector frowned angrily. He turned walked over to a wheel and began to crank it away from her. The chains began to tighten, and Myka found herself being pulled painfully up. The muscles strained in her shoulders, and eventually she stood, her arms suspended. She struggled. Hector walked towards her. "Things won't go well for you if you behave like that." He slapped her. She winced in agony. "Now, let's have a look at you." He firmly grabbed her jaw. She tried to pull away, but his grasp was too strong, trapped in her human form. "Hm. The little puppy's all grown up." He released her from his grip. He walked around and eyed her from every angle. "Yes, very grown up, indeed." He smiled, licking his lips. "But not so old yet that you can't learn some new tricks." He reached to grab her face again, but this time she was ready. She sunk her teeth deep into his hand. Hector grimaced and slapped her harder this time. It stung horribly. Myka tried to regain her composure, turned, and glared intently at him. This time he let his nails tear her flesh as his hand hit her face again. She shrieked as the cuts began to bleed. Hector grabbed her face and forced it towards him. He opened his mouth and let his tongue glide across her sores, licking off the blood. She inhaled sharply. He leaned back and licked his lips.
"You taste as good as you look, my grownup pup. If you weren't werewolf filth, I could just eat you up." He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing. "But there is a place for you, and you will learn it. Be a good girl, and maybe you'll get a treat, pup. I could be a good master if I so choose to be." He turned and walked toward the door. He pushed the wheel back, so the chains loosened, and Myka fell back to the ground. He cackled. Then he opened the door and turned his head. "For now, we'll begin your training." Hector exited and bolted the door.
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It had been days since she had anything to eat or drink. No sustenance. No relief. Just Hector's torture. At least, that's how long she assumed it had been. There was no time in the windowless stone room. It could have been a few hours or an eternity. Suffering has a tendency to make time drag on. Like hell. She felt so weak. She was still bound and slumped upon the cold floor. Cold like water. She tried to lick her lips but her tongue was swollen and dry. Maybe if she had been a normal human she would have already died of dehydration. She moaned.
Then she heard some clicks, and the door opened. She squinted in the light that even in its slight glow was brighter than the dimness of her prison. A shadowed silhouette moved steadily towards her. Her eyes widened as she caught the sound of lapping. It rang in her ears. Water. As the sound grew nearer she saw that it was Hector approaching. In his hands was a bowl. Now she was torn. She didn't want to accept anything from him; she wanted to kill him. But she so wanted, needed, that water.
"How is your foul, insubordinate attitude today?" He dipped his index finger into the water. She watched as the water fell from his hand and splashed back into the bowl. One glimmering drop stood still, dangling from his fingertip. He brought it close to her mouth. Her tongue parted her parched lips and she gently licked up the remnant. Before she could fully enjoy it's coolness, she tasted Hector's skin and all her fury returned. She bit and pulled at his finger until blood came. Hector screamed and yanked his hand away. Myka's eyes rolled back as her lids closed as she tasted his blood. Hector looked at his maimed finger and backhanded her with his other arm. She gasped. The bowl clattered to the floor with the blow, and the water puddled on the stone. Hector grabbed her by the back of the neck. "Lick it up, cur!" He threw her to the ground. Myka whimpered. She crawled to the water which was within the reach of her chains. She pushed her tongue against the wet floor. She followed each stream to where the water settled in the cracks. It tasted terrible and wonderful at the same time. She swallowed and looked up with pleading eyes, begging for more.
"You want more? Just like that?" He slapped her, and she winced in pain. She could feel her eyes burning. She could have cried she wanted the water so much, but she didn't have the tears.
"I owe you nothing! All I ask is that you obey me. You do that, and you will have water to drink." He stooped down and put his hand under her chin and raised her face towards his own. "You scratch my back..." Myka shuddered. A deal with the devil, she thought. She pulled gently away and hung her head. Hector stroked her cheek, and though he disgusted her, she let him. "Yes, I think now you are beginning to understand. You can fight all you want, but I have the upper hand. And I will always win." Myka's mouth tightened and her eyebrows knit. She couldn't contain herself, and she let out a despairing sob. Hector smiled. He swiftly stood and left the room. And Myka was left alone with her thoughts.
She didn't know what to do. It was like her resolve was melting away. When did she become so weak! Maybe if I just went along with him for a little bit, she thought, I could build up enough strength to destroy him. She groaned. Any kind of submission to him would be torture. He has done terrible things. He had imprisoned her as a child, made her drink his blood. His blood. She remembered that, and how it returned when she tasted the blood from his wound. Her hair stood on end, and a shiver ran down her spine. She closed her eyes and breathed in heavily. She opened her mouth and exhaled slowly. She wanted more. No! She wanted water. Maybe he would come, maybe he would show her mercy, maybe if she just pretended...
"Ugh!" She shouted and pounded her fists on the floor. "I hate you!" For a moment in that solitary place, she was unsure if she was speaking about Hector or about herself. She moaned and rolled onto the floor.
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Possibly a day later the door opened again, and despite herself, she sat up eagerly. He had brought another bowl of water. This time she wouldn't make him spill it. She promised to herself she would just be good for a sip of the water, it only need be one. Just be good for a bit, she told herself.
"Good evening, pup. I trust it will be good." He put the bowl on the floor and sat down beside it. "Do you want something to drink?" She watched his lips speak these words as her own she licked instinctually for the water before her. He observed her actions and reached out his hand. Her eyes widened and he paused. "Well, are you going to be good? Or am I going to have to take your water away?" Myka didn't know how to respond. Was she supposed to speak? Was she allowed to? She looked down and whimpered.
"Aw." Hector drew his hand back and cocked his head slightly to one side. The he gave a slight smile and stretched out his hand again. He touched the top of her head and then drew his fingers through her hair. She looked at him with disgust and watched his hand cautiously. He brought his hand to her face and gently touched her cheek. Her face tightened for an instant, but as he let his hand fall across her face she relaxed. He drew his fingers across her dry lips. Her eyes fluttered trying not to close as her mouth opened ever so slightly. Hector took his hand and again dipped it into the water and brought it to her lips. She licked off the drops letting her lips catch the water sliding off his fingertips. He reached back and picked up the bowl and lifted it towards her. She raised her hands to grab the bowl.
"Nah, uh." Hector shook his head. "Let me." She let her hands fall back to the ground and support her as Hector put the bowl to her lips. He tilted it and she drank. She closed her eyes and let the cool liquid run down her parched throat. Her tongue danced happily in the pool taking in the pure flavour of the water.
Then the water was gone. Part of her wanted to fall to her face and thank her gracious master for so kind a gift. But she just looked at him, though not in the eyes, and was silent. He caressed her face again with his hand. "Now that's wasn't so hard, was it?" Her face turned stoney. She had been submissive and was rewarded for it. She felt like a wild animal that has just been broken. There was the shame that came with no longer being free but being a slave. And though she was full, she felt empty.
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