Ink and Needles

Original fiction: What happens when the lovely dancer from the pub, Orion, gets captured by some enemies of her love interest? Careful, subtle hints of torture.

    “For the last time,” the voice behind the bars hissed at her, “where is The Shadow?” 

    Isabelle stared back into her captor’s eyes, searching them for the malevolence he showed toward her. There she saw pure hatred of the purest kind; this hatred ran so deep within him, his eyes revealed the injustice of what he felt and what he would soon ensue.

    Her silence angered him to swearing. The tall frame cast a shadow among the skillfully decorated brick walls as he paced in front of his prisoner’s holding. 

    Isabelle squinted into darkness, catching the features the candlelight revealed. His face was rigid, wind-worn, and somewhat ugly. She stared up into his eyes, only catching the glisten of one, while the other was brandished with an eye patch. 

    With a sudden burst of rage, he grabbed the handle of the cage door and thrust it open with one mighty swing. He stepped into his prisoner’s world, boots thudding against the floor. The kidnapper stared at Isabelle, sizing her up; punishment for her lack of cooperation would soon compensate his blood lust.

    She backed up, taking refuge in the comfort of the farthest area from the rageful animal in front of her. The look was intense, cold, calculating…

    Come Hell or high waters, he strode the entire distance between them with a kind of agile grace. Without a warning, he grabbed Isabelle’s wrists and slammed them above her head, glowering at the beauty of her delicate features: the natural glow of her skin, her perfectly arched eyebrows complemented  the fullness of her lips. Those lips…the beauty…

    “Where is he?” his voice asked her with chilling disdain. Her skin crawled as he got closer, his breath tickling the fright within her; who? You know very well who, she knew. He is who this man wants. With every perpetuated moment came a stronger clench of his hand around hers. 

    “No?”

    Freedom came and Isabelle sighed quickly. She watched the man leave her cell but he left the door open. She dared not move.

    He entered again, bringing with him things she could not see. First he stood in front of the table within the holding; he lit a candle aflame, watching its embers grow until satisfaction. She watched as the man with the eye patch heated a long puncture needle and then dip the burning metal point in a container of ink for a quill. Isabelle shifted nervously, terrified of his plan.

    She felt the iron grip on her arm and felt the rough caress of the bricks behind her suddenly graze her face. He pressed her against the wall, shoulder digging into hers. Isabelle felt the chill of the wind kiss her right shoulder blade he exposed. She thrashed, protesting against his will.

    The hot metal made contact with her skin, penetrating the sensitive flesh. She bit back a scream, feeling the hot ink trickle down her back like liquid fire. It burned as the needle explored her skin, being guided by her captor. 

    She felt the need to cry out to him: Why. Who. With each curve of the letter, her question went unanswered. With every scream she released, every tear with every letter made, it continued. 

    Finally, it was over. A shaky breath escaped her and her tears rained slower. She need not a mirror to discover the five letters given to her by the vengeful creature.

S h a d o w.

Author's Note

Note: I did NOT edit this, so if it seems kind of choppy and unedited, it is. ;p
Isabelle is a member of a pirate crew, fyi. That's all~