Fleur whimpered softly as she tried to forget everything, it was easier that way. For a moment she didn't have to focus on the pain that had ceased what felt like every pore of her body. She had long lost count at the number of bones she had heard crack. It was funny. The noise had been sickening at first, but not it had become almost mundane. It had started with her wrist that night on the street and had gone from there. It was like Demetrius' pastime or something, for when he got too bored. Other than her broken ankles, she had earned those he told her time and time again. It had been payment for the one time she had attempted to escape and failed. Another second and she would have out ran him but it hadn't worked out that way. Instead, she got two broken ankles and Demetrius got the satisfaction of knowing she was no long physically able to stand, let alone out run him. That had been one of the first nights or what she thought was the first nights. It was hard to tell now. The days had all but blended together into one never ending nightmare.
Without thinking, Fleur reached up to wipe the blood away that was trickling down her forehead from somewhere near her hairline. The effort only caused more tears to trickle down her cheeks as her shattered wrist and hand throbbed in protest of what she asked it to do. So, instead, she curled up into a tighter ball and let the blood flow. It wasn't like it mattered any more. As the days had passed she had slowly let the notion slide that she was going to get out of this with her life. All her attempts to get free had gotten her no where. It had gotten her nothing but more beatings and more pain. She had resigned herself to accepting death. It surely couldn't be as painful. It would almost be a relief. Though, she had not been able to bring herself to ask Demetrius to kill her, or at least she didn't think she did. There were times she wasn't quite sure what she had muttered in the heat of the moment.
As soon as the sound of his footsteps drew closer, Fleur curled herself into a tighter ball. "S'il vous plaît pas..." She muttered softly to herself knowing he didn't have to speak French to understand her pleas. She wished he would just leave her there to die in peace. She didn't want to play any more games. She was tired. She wants to sleep. Even sleep with no promise of waking up was better than playing a game with Demetrius Avery. "Non..." But it was already too late. Before Fleur knew it, Demetrius had her slug over his shoulder and she couldn't help but to cry out in pain. Every broken bone, every bruise, every cut, and her dislocated shoulder screamed in protest of the motion. Instead she resigned herself to sobbing quietly and her weak attempts to fight back against her captor. She just didn't have the strength to mount the same level of resistance as before but she wasn't going to just give up either.
"Oh, mon Dieu, pas de..." Fleur muttered upon seeing their new location, a cemetery. The familiar panic rose, robbing her momentarily of breathe. Cemeteries were a place for dead things, not the living. "S'il vous plaît non. Je veux rentrer à la maison. Laissez-moi rentrer à la maison..." Fleur begged him to let her go despite herself, the words tumbling out in French before she could stop them, before she could think to mutter them in English. "Please... Je ne veux pas mourir." Fleur muttered to Demetrius between choking sobs, suddenly aware that she didn't want to die, despite what she thought she wanted earlier.
Her eyes fluttered closed, Fleur didn't want to look around. Cemeteries were cemeteries. They were all the same. They all contained death and monuments marking the triumph of death over life. Her eyes remained closed until Demetrius stopped walking.