The Ice and the Ocean - Funday 1990

PLEASE NOTE: The material contained herein includes content that may offend, disturb and/or distress the reader. HEAVY Trigger Warnings apply. Pedophilia, child abuse, rape. Reader discretion advised.

Soft voices intruded on the black, an abrupt loud laugh piercing through to jolt her half awake. Her mind tried to slide back down into the safety of the dark, but she fought it. Her eyes were too heavy to open; something was trying to pull her back into unconsciousness. Gradually, though, she began to surface, her instincts recognising that something was wrong, her body flooding with adrenaline. She became aware of a tight stretching in her shoulders and legs, the realisation coming with panic that finally woke her up completely, her eyes flying open.

She was uncomfortably spread eagled on something soft…and she was naked. She tried to shift her body to ease the discomfort but nothing moved – turning her head she saw that her wrists and ankles were tightly bound to the corners of a four-poster bed. Terror flooded through her as she pulled in vain, a small gasp escaping as her movements only succeeded in tightening the rope. Frightened blue eyes darted desperately around to take in the rest of her surroundings, trying to make sense of the situation. Deep red velvet curtains hung open all around her, there was a painted ceiling above her…that was all she saw.

When she tried to lift her head again, the rope around her neck tightened, forcing it to flop back onto the pillows as she lay exhausted by the small effort. Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision, a whimper escaping her throat though she tried desperately to stay quiet. The voices in the room stopped and there was sudden, heavy silence; the kind of silence that had a presence…an evil presence. There was movement by the bed and as her eyes shifted to meet the sound a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

A man in a light grey suit with very well kept dark hair streaked with grey and a carefully clipped black moustache looked down at her. His face was kind but his pale blue eyes were cold and merciless as he smiled at her with a sardonic twist of his lips.

“Very pretty, Marcus. Her eyes are almost as blue as the boy’s.”

The gaze of the man in the grey suit flicked up from hers towards the other side of the bed, her own eyes following his to behold the one who had spoken; she hadn’t even heard him approach. Very tall, he was, dressed in a black suit and shirt with shadows obscuring his face. He instantly terrified her.

“Asinoe will make a fine addition to our treasures,” he continued, reaching out to touch her face. His hands were gentle, belying her situation. More tears slipped down her face and onto his fingers as she jerked away, the rope tightening to hold her in place. When he lightly pinched her cheek she couldn’t stop the whimper. The man on her left, Marcus, laughed softly and eagerly. It was a dark sound that made her heartbeat speed up.

“Let’s get the boy, Jerald,” Marcus murmured. He reached out a hand and she squealed, trying to get away as it ran lightly over her stomach. She gagged as the rope tightened and Marcus laughed, moving his fingers back up her body to the rope and slipping a finger between it and her neck to loosen it.

“Don’t move, Asinoe my dear, you will only hurt yourself.”

He grinned at her suddenly, his expression reminding her of a wolf she once saw in the zoo…a lazy predator on the outside that would rip your throat out the moment you let down your guard.

“Though, I imagine not as much as you are about to get hurt…”

Her vision blurred with tears she couldn’t seem to blink away fast enough, the bed shifting and moving as someone else was placed on it. Through her ruined sight she could see blur of bare skin, black hair and pinpoints of the brightest blue. She blinked rapidly as the shadow crawled up her body, careful not to touch her until it was completely above her.

When her vision finally cleared, the most beautiful boy she had ever seen was inches from her face.

He looked to be about the same age as she, with ivory pale skin and black hair that haloed his features, his blue eyes so bright they seemed to glow. There were tears in those eyes, shimmering and pooling in a way that reminded Asinoe of the ocean. He was silent as he watched her, rivulets of saltwater sliding down his cheeks and falling onto her face.

For a long moment she so was mesmerised by him she forgot to cry.

“Now... Jasper,” the man in black said very quietly. The boy stilled when the man spoke; tension reverberated through his body. And then something changed in those beautiful eyes, shifting from misery to another emotion that was not quite as friendly. He smiled a dazzling smile - like an angel’s it was, full of light. It told her not to be afraid, that he would protect her.

She desperately wanted to believe in it.

And then the boy, Jasper, moved abruptly between her legs, his hands pressing on either side of her chest as he jerked forward suddenly...and her world exploded into pain.

Asinoe screamed high and loud, her body thrashing wildly as she tried to squirm away, the ropes tightening around her limbs and her throat until she gagged. The man in the grey suit, Marcus, casually leant over and loosened the noose, removing it as the young boy’s face hovered closer to hers. When she sucked in another breath to scream, the boy bowed his head and kissed her hard, swallowing the sound. He pulled back as she sobbed, those blue eyes staring into her as he whispered almost inaudibly.

“You’re gonna die.”

Terror, pain, denial and hate uncoiled within her, forcing their way through her small frame.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die went around her head like a mantra, a prayer.

Her eyes tried to focus on Jasper as he moved again, but he blurred in and out. She tried to concentrate on what was happening around her, anything to get away from the pain. She could hear Marcus and the other man talking calmly by the bed like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Through the burning haze and her sobbing she could just make out a few words – and understood even less. They commented on the sounds of terror that poured from her mouth, they praised Jasper’s technique “at just eight years old” and, worst of all, they joked about how she would feel when they took their turns.

Spots began to appear in her vision. She closed her eyes and desperately tried to think of her mother, mentally trying to get away until she could see her mother’s smiling face. And then the boy twisted and her mother was gone in a fresh bout of pain.

“Jasper, put your hand around her throat…that’s it.”

She recognised the man in black’s quiet voice, her eyes flying open in panic when the boy’s hand closed around her neck and squeezed, cutting off her air. More spots behind her eyes, growing bigger and bigger until they took her over. Jasper released her throat and Asinoe sucked in one shuddering breath, lips parting to scream before the boy’s hand was back and her air was cut off once more.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

Then don’t, came the simple reply from within…before she passed out.

She awoke drowning in rage. The heat of it was searing her from the inside, as if her body had been opened up and hot coals had been poured within, left to simmer and melt her organs as she was sewn up again. The rage pulsed in her head, reddening her vision like a bloody haze. She felt nothing else. There was nothing else…the fear, the terror, it had been burnt away by the will to survive. New sensations coursed through her body as her mind assessed itself and her circumstances. She was still in pain, but it felt different - almost good. Her mouth clamped shut when she realised she was screaming. There were to be no more tears, no whimpers…nothing would come from her. Not anymore.

Never again.

The boy was still moving above her, inside her. His face was blank but his eyes were wary, watching her, a moment of surprise flickering through their depths when she went suddenly silent. Her own eyes narrowed as she looked up at the angel above her…and in that moment she knew without a doubt that she would hurt him. She would hurt him like he was hurting her, worse even. The thought made her smile and stare a challenge into his bright blue gaze. Ocean clashed with ice and anticipation shuddered through her body. Despite her youth, she knew with complete clarity that she wanted him. She would own him one day.

In her mind, it was already done. He was hers.

He blinked as if he saw it too, though he hardly understood, bringing his face closer and resting his cheek against hers. His dark hair fell over her face, his ragged breath tickling her ear.

“I'm Baelian...what’s your name?” he asked quietly, conscious of the two men watching them. Lips curving, she turned her head, her mouth moving to his ear. His soft skin rubbed like satin against hers and she breathed him in.

“Alina,” she whispered back, and bit his cheek hard.

The boy yelled, lashing out, the men moving in an instant to drag him roughly away. Blood welled in the teeth marks on his face as Jerald grabbed a handful of ebony hair and pulled him to his knees, making him cry out as his body uncomfortably strained upward, head drawn back and neck exposed.

Alina laughed at him.

Marcus laughed too, looking down at her, studying the blood on her lips. If he'd not heard the change in name he could not miss her change in demeanour. Clearly something had shifted in her…and it seemed to have made her stronger.

“Well,” he chuckled, “I do believe we now have the perfect counterpart for the Black Family heir. Remind me to thank Friedrich...”

Alina followed Marcus’ gaze to Jerald, who still held 'Jasper' tightly. The boy was glaring at her, tears once again filling those heartbreaking blue eyes.

Cry baby.

“I believe the boy has some work to do, to keep up with her,” Jerald responded dryly, his tone unimpressed.

They spoke for a moment longer, things Alina didn’t understand…about the Black and Bellamantis’ families, about how they would be combined into one glorious empire and one day be so powerful that no one could stand in their way. The pretty blue eyed boy who called himself Baelian was removed from the room, staring hatefully at Alina as he was ushered away.

And then…

“So,” Marcus said to Jerald, casually flicking a piece of lint from his shoulder before glancing down at her, “Your turn or mine?”


Written by Chastity De Vice.

All characters and story lines remain the property of N.Ristovski and the Underground. All character writings within the Underground are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016. Natalie Ristovski.

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