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Night 55: Disciplinary Therapy Room 2 [M-U for Ruby]

This was the point of no return, if such a thing existed. It was laying right in front of him in the shape of a girl, although the body did not match the soul. There wasn't much of a soul left, in fact, though there was certainly some manner of consciousness taking root in what was more or less a corpse.

It was all extremely fascinating, this concept of demons. There were, of course, many creatures that fit that term. The doctor was quite aware of the many altverses and multiverses out there, so he had an idea of the whole spectrum. They'd certainly let a wide variety of demons into this place since its inception.

This one, though, was peculiar. The hollowed soul had once been that of a human, and perhaps some memories still remained, even if there was no real capacity to care about them. The demon even possessed a name still, which was a sign of lingering humanity on its own.

All the lore said that once a human became a demon, there was no way to go back. What they needed to know was if that was really true. Humans, after all, were the easiest to manipulate. Something that felt nothing and only looked out for itself was hardly useful at all, was it? But if they could fix that, the sheer amount of experience that Ruby had, being centuries old, would certainly be of value to the general.

And so the doctor had ordered this demon up to the exam room. As usual, there was one central light shining right down on Ruby's restrained form. The doctor, meanwhile, was standing in the corner, tapping Ruby's file against his hand as he waited for her to come to.

[identity profile] thatdemonbitch.livejournal.com 2011-04-23 09:09 am (UTC)(link)
Her breathing didn't seem to be evening out any time soon, and it was still shuddered and shallow and labored. The pain was so distracting that she didn't even notice him moving away, instead focused on trying to shift her way into something more comfortable that wasn't going to happen. She couldn't just twist her hips in a different way and get the Grace out of her. It wasn't going to stop burning its way through her.

Worse, there seemed to be some messier side effects. Tears were freely streaming down her face instead of welling up in her eyes and being bitten back. Her cheeks had reddened from the salt in them staining her skin, and there was still a crackling of light beneath her skin, but it seemed like a more constant and duller spread of lightning. Like it was being seen through a cloud cover.

The shrieks of pain had died down, but now there was a choked noise that she didn't really recognize coming from her throat, accompanied by light shaking in her shoulders. Mouth and throat raw from dryness and screaming, her voice sounded raspier when she spoke up this time in shaking and nearly whimpered tones.

"What …" She had to pause to cringe, clenching her deal and humming through the pain that scorched that licked her very soul, "did you do?" She should be dead. It didn't make sense. Angels were the antithesis of everything that demons were.

The burn was the worst in her torso, which was a blessing and a curse. It drew her attention away from the gaping wound that remained there, but it also meant she couldn't just try to shake it out like she could the tingling in her extremities. It felt like he'd poured acid into her chest cavity and just walked away to have tea until he could observe and document the results.

Even dulled, the pain was blinding, and her ability to focus on anything but her whimpered response was severely hindered. When she forced her eyes back open again she was sure the overhead light was contributing to that burny sensation, simply because it felt like it, like the Grace, had pervaded all of her in an intense, agonizing way. But it was then that she realized he was across the room -- or at least, in the darkness outside of her field of vision. She realized faintly that there was no way of knowing just how large the room even was, or if he was even the only one there. Not from her position.

[identity profile] thatdemonbitch.livejournal.com 2011-04-26 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
This will be over soon enough. She almost wanted to let herself believe that he was going to kill her, but it was obvious that wasn't true. That'd be too easy. And when he kept talking, it became clear. The experiments. This was just another experiment. The pain, the torture, it was just an added bonus to making her into one giant, demonic petri dish. Fuck all of them.

It was worth considering, especially now that it was apparently her fate. There wasn't a lot of thought she could put into it for the time being, though. Not when her entire body was still on fire, screaming with pain in a way that was distracting her from any brooding on what happened when the divine and demonic came together. Neutrality. Yin and yang.

She never cared for that bullshit. It was impossible to even pretend to care now when it was everything she could do to manage for her pained noises to stay at the level of whimpers and cringes, subdued to the visible sheen of sweat and the tension in her muscles and her gaze.

Luckily, he didn't seem interested in her answer. Or, rather, less than luckily. Because when he moved to begin the post-op procedures to put her chest back to rights, her body jerked with every heavy staple and it kicked the air out of her lungs, causing her to cough, sputter and gasp uselessly.

The pain, she concluded, wasn't the worst of it. It was the humiliation of not being able to do a damn thing about it.

[identity profile] thatdemonbitch.livejournal.com 2011-04-28 06:09 am (UTC)(link)
When he started to clean her up she began to pull lightly at the binding again, trying uselessly to get up. Her efforts were deflated and hampered by injury and hardly anything close to what would actually make progress in freeing herself.

There was a strangeness in the way she couldn't even really feel that he was toweling her off, but she understood the idea. No sensory nerve endings. So, there was pressure, but nothing else. The same reason everyone downstairs knew to keep the cuts shallow -- it'd keep people awake, and the skin was the only place that really got them screaming.

Her movements were as ceaseless as they were slight and ineffective. Between the burn beneath her skin and the way she was trying to keep the doctor from touching her even to clean her up, it was like she had ants crawling beneath her, inciting her to squirm, but the exhaustion from the pain and the resultant screaming made each wriggle lethargic and weak.

It didn't even really process for her that it was stupid to try and get herself free when all he was doing now was closing her up and she wasn't about to gain anything from walking around with her chest cavity open. She was too busy trying to turn her face away and tug on her wrists until they were raw.

[identity profile] thatdemonbitch.livejournal.com 2011-04-30 09:25 am (UTC)(link)
The pain of the needle puncturing her skin was, by contrast, a welcome distraction. Still, she clenched her jaw and bit back a hissing noise every time it looped through and the thread tightened, tugging her flesh painfully closer, stretching it back over her chest cavity. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, all black ink and hollow detestation.

"Screw yourself, Mengele." She'd said it before, she was sure, but that didn't matter. And, all things considered, the added comparison wasn't that far off base. Besides, it was impressive to Ruby that she could manage even that, because it was followed by a gurgled, pained noise that had her jaw slamming shut again as a twitch ran through her body, like lightning fettering out through her limbs angrily.

Except unlike an electrical impulse, this wasn't going to just run out. It was inside of her now, and it felt like it was tearing her open even as the doctor stitched her shut like some fucked up rag doll.