Meihua. The voice had actually dared, actually had the fucking gall to call her Meihua. It had even pronounced it with the same emotionless and yet slightly disappointed tone that her father had always used. Who had told? Only the people at the school knew, and only because of the telepaths. She hadn't. It wasn't like she had a birth certificate either. She blinked blearily, her head still foggy from what had put her briefly unconscious.
Wicked missed the exposition, for the most part, since she was busy boggling over her name being used. Her necronym anyway. She'd caught at least the salient portions, that there was a fishhook in her belly and that she had to be quiet.
Breathing hurt, her heart beating hurt, she loosed a soft whimper of discomfort only to then realize that there was something else there, not just the spines and spikes of the hook piercing her tender skin, but also a collar with spikes pointed inward that inched closer to her throat and the rapid pulsebeat just there. No no no. She had to get out of this, she had to.
It wasn't going to be so bad, right, her navel was pierced, that hadn't hurt really. It'd be fine. Wicked took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose and then pulled, flesh ripped, blood welled and she squealed through clenched teeth. Then she stilled again as she felt the cold metal spikes pressing against her neck. No noise, no noise.
Wicked closed her eyes, took a firm grip on the hook, clenched her jaw shut tight, and yanked again.