|pyroprincess (pyroprincess) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2012-03-04 18:19:00
|Entry tags:||aurora moriarty|
Who: Aurora Moriarty, mention of Meg and Dean
When: Evening of today
Where: Auroras bedroom
What: Dealing with what happened
Status: Narrative, complete unless Emma or Jim want to check in on her!
Aurora lay on her bed, slowly curling her fingers into fists then relaxing them, over and over. The witch had healed them perfectly, but it didn't matter - she knew what had happened and she could still feel it every time they moved. The crunch, the tearing, the way the pain had exploded then spread and consumed her until incoherent threats and curses were all she could manage. The bitch demon laughing, taunting her, telling her she was wrong - that her Daddy wouldn't save her, that being a Moriarty wasn't special, that she'd die like the rest of them. And towards the end Aurora almost believed her, almost broke, almost begged.
But she hadn't and that was what counted. Even if after, when the injuries were gone and she'd gotten out of the medbay and didn't have to look at the people who'd been there with her, the people who'd seen her ranting and screaming and babbling, who'd seen her weak and hurting....the people she'd never be able to look at again without hating them for it - even if after she had ranted and raved then broken down mid tantrum and curled into a ball and just let her mother hold her - she held onto that. Meg hadn't broken her. She hadn't begged.
Now though, now she didn't know what to do. To stave off the memories, to forget how it felt to be helpless, to be the person at the other end of the flame. The mirror was an evil thing, she couldn't look at herself without thinking of her appearance before she'd been healed, the cuts and the blood...
The throbbing in the back of her head woke her up, and the following shock when she realised her hands were tied to a chair finished the job. She was bound and utterly powerless to stop whatever was about to happen, which couldn't be anything good, not when she was restrained like this. And when she saw the demon coming towards her with a knife in one hand and a manic grin on her face she knew what was coming. She knew because that grin was one she'd worn, one that echoed her fathers face when they'd destroyed the gangster together. It was a grin of gleeful anticipation of the work to come, the blood to be spilled, the carnage to be caused.
So when the first cut came she was ready for it - yet it still tore a scream from her throat. How could it be so much worse than she'd imagined, than she could ever have predicted? She had seen the face of a tortured man but it hadn't come close to portraying the agony of the act itself.
Still though, once the scream had dwindled to a whimper, she spat in Megs face and swore the demon would burn. Which prompted a giggle and the first of the snaps, a split second of wondering what that noise was, before the pain registered and she saw her baby finger dangling at a horrific angle. And then the next, and her oaths turned to curses then inane swearing. Time stopped being a valid concept after the third, and the fourth made her forget she had a body, all that existed were the mangled remains of her fingers and the pain.
She held on to what she said, though, it kept her from caving completely and begging like her father said everyone did. There would be a rescue for her, there would, she was a Moriarty and he'd come he'd send them...
There were no real coherent memories after that, just flashes of flame, the feeling of broken bones being scorched, of blades eating into her skin yet again, and her own voice, disconnected from her body almost, screaming and vowing that the demon would pay, would burn, over and over.
And she had. Aurora rolled over on the bed and pressed play on the remote, starting the video again. Her face emotionless, she watched Dean pick up the first of many knives and begin his work. It was several minutes before the demon started screaming, and another several before a dark smile began to spread across the young girls face. Pulling her knees up to her chest she sat, staring at the display of horror unfolding in front of her.
She fell asleep after a few hours with the video still playing, head lying on her knees, and in her dreams Megs screams mixed with her own.