Page 9 of Ruining Red
How I long to be where the sun touches, to feel the warmth upon my skin.The raging inferno that beset me earlier seems to be long past, leaving me a frozen shell, a husk.Snow burns my face, as they grind my cheek further into the ground, but even now, the pain is lessening as darkness threatens to encroach.
Again, I find myself longing to drift upon the ether, to finally be rid of this pain that splits my heart.It’s a relentless ache, one that does not dare dissipate from the deadening snow.However, the moment one of the hands rips at my sleeve, threatening to bare an intimate portion of my body to the elements, something within me snaps.
With a roar that sounds more akin to a harsh croak than anything beastly, I lash out, pushing and shoving, wriggling my body about so their hands cannot find purchase.For several moments, I seem to be winning.The men back off, allowing me to turn over and crawl away.
On shaky limbs, I force my body to slither through the snow, like some injured wild animal.As I try to get up, I find my legs don’t want to move.They’re leaden beneath me, compelling me to go back to crawling — this at least seemed to be manageable.
One arm in front of the other, I pull my body, propelling it forward inch by inch.Pain zaps through me, as bits of rocks, roots, and other debris from the ground embed in my skin.I long to cry out, to scream, but find I have no more voice.I wasted it all with my damned futile howling.
A few more drags of my torso across the jagged rocks is all I can manage before collapsing again.And that’s when I realize they’re merely toying with me.Though I manage to get several feet before they give chase, their walking catches back up with me in a few easy strides.
Tears no longer prick my eyes as they lay hands on me.There are none left.All I can do now is face my fate with dignity.Lowering my head back to the ground, I heave as my lungs clamber for air.
Footsteps crunch through the snow, loud, ominous, and no doubt signaling my doom.I long to turn away, to not face my end, but I find I cannot move.I lay there, helpless, closing my eyes.Pain explodes against my skull, but only for a moment.Blessed darkness creeps in soon after.
I’m not dead.
At least, that’s the thought that slithers through my brain amidst the pounding in my skull.Pain explodes through my body as consciousness brings awareness to every ache and scrape.If I were dead, it wouldn’t hurt so much.
Despite their twisted views about my person, I’ve done nothing wrong, and so I shouldn’t be cast down into a pit of torment.Right?Why should a particular combination of hair and eye color condemn me to eternal suffering?
And yet, as I take inventory of my wounds, part of me wishes I was actually dead, then I’d know my suffering had a purpose, a chance at penance.This is just senseless violence and agony.
Groaning, I pry my eyes open, nausea bubbling in my stomach as everything swims into view.Thankfully, it only takes a moment or two for everything to right itself, quelling the bile rising in my throat.Wetness slides down my face, and based on the coppery scent, I know it’s blood.My blood.
Heat licks at my body like flames, but thankfully there are none close enough to me to actually cause me harm.I have no clue how they plan to sacrifice me, but fire would most certainly be an agonizing way to go.Forcing my head to turn in spite of the splitting headache threatening the contents of my near-empty stomach, I watch as the men of the village gather around.
I don’t recognize them anymore.No longer are they the nice, peaceable men who helped each other out, greeting everyone else with smiles and waves.Now, their faces are twisted, their eyes glowing in the firelight.
Demons, one and all.
My insides seize as I watch them prowl around me.Helpless, I try to run but find my arms stuck to a pole, tied too tightly for me to escape from.Until now, I didn’t notice my predicament.I was far too concerned with determining if I was indeed alive or not.
Snow covers my bare feet, but I don’t feel it.In fact, I don’t feel much of anything except for a pounding head, insatiable heat, and an ache throbbing between my thighs.Moaning, I shift about, desperate to find relief.
“See?”The matriarch cries out, her voice rising above the howling wind.“See how she tempts you with her body, her scent?Pray the demon comes quickly to take her away before you succumb and lay hands on her in an unholy fashion.”
Unholy?As if everything else they’ve done to me thus far has been right and just.Blinking, I watch as they step forward, their hands fumbling with the front of their pants.Younger men and older alike, skim their palms up and down, rubbing some unknown portion of their bodies.
Terror infuses my limbs as groans flit into the air.In the winking lights of the fires, I watch as they produce long rods from their clothes, the muscle, if that’s what you can even call it, pulsing as they run their hands up and down.
What manner of witchcraft is this?They circle me, their eyes blazing with absolute hatred.Each set of eyes bore into me, recrimination exuding from every pore.But worse than that, a scent fills the air, a pungent, musky odor that causes me to both shrivel into myself with revulsion and throb, the ache becoming far more pronounced.
They shout out accusations, blaming me for their actions.Their words slam into me, hurled as if they were stones.All the while, their hands continue to move in some odd rhythm, their hips jerking and bucking as their groans turn to pained wails.
Despair lances through me as I stare at them, unsure of what to even do or say in the face of such utter hatred.Is this the way they intend to sacrifice me?Curling into myself as best as I can, I allow the loneliness to surround me, covering me with its painful cloak.Loud, mournful cries spill from my lips, the only thing that can even come close to soothing the pain radiating from every pore.
Chapter5
Conrí
My ears prick at the sound of anguished howls ringing through the woods.None of the other sacrifices have ever made such a sound.It makes my blood run cold, speeding up my steps.What in the hell are they doing to the poor girl?
Shaking my head, I force the beast to remain at bay.I need to assess the situation with a calm, rational mind first.If I run in there, wolf fully in control, there’s no telling what I might do.As I reach the edge, however, staring off into the opening, ice curls its frosty tendrils around my heart, squeezing it until I can no longer breathe.
There, held aloft by rough rope, is the girl I met in the woods today.Dragging in a lungful of air, I detect the spicy notes drifting off of her.She’s nearing heat.For a moment, I can barely believe it.For once, the sacrifice is an actual omega.
At her mournful sobs, my cock juts up, rubbing against my pants.I shouldn’t find her tears alluring.I shouldn’t want to create more just to watch them stream down that pretty little face.But I want all that and more.
