(no subject)
The room looked the same, smelled the same as when he was here yesterday, but immediately he could tell that something was strikingly different.
He wasn't alone this time; two other people already occupied the room. One was her, the girl, but instead of seeing her as he had imagined, calm and composed as she sat writing at her desk, she was standing at the wall, sobbing and scribbling. The room was lit by a single candle, and in the dimness, he saw her pause to bend her head and attend to something with her hand. He creeped over to peer over her shoulder, just in time to catch her pricking her finger with a crusty safety pin. Wincing at the sight, he slowly backed away while studying the other occupant of the makeshift prison cell.
The monster that was her master was in fact a shadow blacker than the night, and in his hand he held a ghostly whip that he did not hesitate to use on her body if she dared to pause. Each time the whip cracked on the her bare skin she let out a choked scream, a plaintive howl that pierced the ears.
With little difficulty he tore his attention away from the monster to the person who he controlled. The girl really was a girl, no more than fifteen, with short fair hair. She was clad in a rough feed sack that barely reached the end of her buttocks, and through the large holes he could see her skin had cuts and scratches over cuts and scratches. Her bare feet were purple from standing for so long, and though she constantly had to change writing hands from lack of blood flow, he suspected she had once been quite striking.
Before he could make any other mental notes about her, he saw her hesitate again, and dread filled every inch of his being. He watched the monster's hand rise, saw the whip unfurl, all in slow motion. Before she could receive another beating, he pushed her away to cower in a corner and took the punishment head-on.
The pain was excruciating, sharper than anything he had ever felt. He almost thought his body was ripping in two where the monster had struck him with the whip. The girl, crouched in a corner, looked at him with eyes wide with fear that came as second nature to her. With a shaking hand, she relinquished the safety pin she held tightly in one hand, and held it out to him. He shook his head, and tried to run away, but the monster simply laughed at him with a booming guffaw that made him jump. He was filled with an indescribable desire to write, and no matter how hard he resisted it, he could not escape it. Before he realized what he was doing, the pin was in his hand, a finger was bleeding and the writing turned to his own.
He was finally one with the writing on the wall.
A/N: I know, this sounds like the end, but it's not. I have two more short chapters (maybe I'll just make it one long one) in my notebook, but this is all for now. I have a hot date with a certain Hero of Time. *growls*