Content warning: Slight implications of SA and mentions of abuse at the beginning of the page (nothing gratuitous or detailed)— Skipping past the italicized portion will skip this part of the story.

Please practice safe reading when viewing! :)

                                          ***ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ ⌖ ⁠♡  ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ ⌖ ⁠♡   ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ ⌖ ⁠♡***

The red ambiance glowing around her made her skin crawl. She could taste the blood trickling into her mouth from her broken nose. The metal flooring made her knees ache.

“Punishment”, Marcel had called it as he dragged Sadie by her hair into the storage container on The Vesper's compound, and her head swam, a high pitched ringing piercing through her cranium and splitting her ears.

She was... Petrified.

But, despite the terror, despite the uncomfortable nausea that bloomed in her stomach from anxiety, she looked up at the man that towered over her— The bastard himself.

The man of her nightmares, the one that still froze her blood in its veins at the very thought of him.

"It... It wasn't my fault," She managed to choke out, voice clotted and strained as her words and the exhale of oxygen left droplets of blood splattering across the flooring below her.

"It wasn't my fault, dammit—"

Marcel crouched down in front of her, staring her down with cold, unfeeling eyes. A smirk crossed his face, the expression cold and cruel. He always derived pleasure out of submission, forced or not.

"You never learn, do you, little rabbit?" He asked, his tone almost taunting. "You are always at fault. That cargo loss— this fuckup— is on your shoulders, because you should know better than to make mistakes."

Her breath hitched as frustrated tears burned in her eyes. Her skin crawled as he played with her hair, twirling brunette strands around his fingers. She hated when he touched her— She wanted to claw her skin off.