Never Show your weakself To anybody
The next morning, the sound of heavy locks echoed as the mirrored chamber door creaked open. Vencor entered, no wine in his hand this time—just a black cane, polished and sharp at the end.
Emma sat chained against the wall, her wrists raw, eyes staring at nothing. Stillness.
Vencor: "Good morning, Emma." His voice was syrup-smooth, but beneath it was iron. "You know what today is? Today, you stop pretending you're free."
He circled her like a predator, tapping the cane against the floor with each step. Tap… tap… tap.
Vencor: "You've gotten soft.."
Emma's lips parted just slightly, a faint tremor in her throat. But no words.
Vencor leaned close, pressing the tip of his cane under her chin, forcing her to look into one of the mirrors.
He slammed the cane against the glass—cracks spiderwebbed across her reflection.
Vencor: "You were never human. I made sure of that when you killed your parents. Remember their faces? Their eyes? You still hear their screams, don't you?"
Emma's breath hitched—just barely.
Vencor smiled, sensing the tiny crack.
Vencor: "Ah. There it is. That little flinch. You can't hide from me, Emma. You're still my weapon. And soon, you'll beg to be mine again."
He stood, towering over her, and motioned for the guards.
Vencor: "Leave her without food today. She'll break faster when her stomach screams louder than her pride."
The door shut, heavy locks clicking back into place.
Emma sat in silence, chained, her stomach aching. Her cheek still burned from last night's strike. But her eyes—those hollow, sharp eyes—remained fixed on the shattered mirror.
And for the first time, a faint smirk tugged at her lips.
Emma (quietly): "…You're the one who's going to break, Vencor."
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The second day began with water.
Ice-cold, dumped over Emma's chained body until she gasped at the shock. The floor beneath her was slick, her hair clinging to her face. She shivered, but said nothing.
Vencor entered, gloves on, his cane replaced with a leather strap. He didn't speak at first. Just paced, circling her like a wolf, letting the silence gnaw at her.
Vencor: "It's funny… I don't need to hit you. You've already done all the damage to yourself."
Emma remains silent. Staring sharply at his face
Vencor: "Do you know what true control is, Emma? It isn't pain. It's when your mind whispers my voice even when I'm not here."
He crouched down, his gloved hand gripping her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with twisted pride.
Vencor: "You killed your parents with these hands." He tapped her knuckles, one by one. "You've slaughtered children. Innocents. Families. Do you really think you get to pretend to be normal after that?."
Emma's lips trembled slightly, but her face stayed blank.
Vencor suddenly struck her across the ribs with the strap—CRACK! Her body jolted against the chains, but still, she didn't scream.
Vencor (smiling): "Ah. That silence. How long before it breaks?"
The guards chained her wrists higher, stretching her arms until her shoulders ached. Vencor whispered in her ear as she hung there:
Vencor: "You'll beg me soon. And when you do, you'll call me 'father' again. Just like you did the night you became mine."
Emma's heart pounded. The word father echoed in her head, heavy with venom. But she swallowed it, burying her reaction deep.
Hours passed. No food. No water. Just the sting of the strap, the ache in her body, and Vencor's voice drilling into her skull.
But when he finally left, Emma allowed herself one breath—long, steady, controlled.
And then, in the cracked mirror across the room, she caught her reflection. Her eyes, hollow yet sharp, locked on herself.
By the third day, the hunger gnawed at Emma's insides like a parasite. Her lips were dry, her body weak, every muscle screaming for fuel.
The guards dragged her into a different room this time. No mirrors. Just a long table in the center, covered with food. Meat steaming, bread freshly baked, fruit shining under the light. The smell alone was intoxicating.
Emma's stomach twisted violently. She clenched her jaw.
Vencor sat at the head of the table, a glass of wine in his hand, tearing into a loaf of bread slowly, deliberately, as if each bite was theater.
Vencor: "Hungry?"
Emma didn't answer. Her eyes darted once toward the food, then back to the floor.
He waved a hand, and one of the guards sliced into a steak, the sizzling juices dripping onto the plate. The aroma filled the room.
Vencor: "You've killed for less, Emma. I've seen it. A scrap of bread… and you butchered three men. Do you remember that?"
She stayed silent, her breathing shallow.
He snapped his fingers. A guard shoved a piece of bread toward her lips. She turned her face away. The guard tried again, pressing it against her mouth. She shut her eyes, forcing herself not to bite.
Vencor leaned forward, smiling cruelly.
Vencor: "That's the thing about starvation. It makes the mask slip. It shows who you really are. And you—" He tapped his temple. "You're not some noble girl with sad eyes. You're hunger. Violence. Nothing more."
The guard shoved the bread against her lips again, harder this time. Emma clenched her teeth so tightly her jaw ached. The smell was unbearable, but she refused.
Vencor chuckled.
Vencor: "Still resisting? Fine. Then watch."
He snapped his fingers. Two guards dragged in a young woman, terrified, beaten, trembling. They threw her onto the floor in front of Emma.
Vencor picked up a knife and set it in Emma's lap.
Vencor: "Eat… or she dies."
The woman's wide eyes met Emma's. She shook her head desperately, whispering, "Please…"
Emma's hands trembled around the knife. Her stomach howled. Every instinct begged her to grab the bread, to tear into it, to live. But her eyes—empty, dark—lifted to meet Vencor's.
She dropped the knife to the floor with a loud clatter.
Emma (hoarse, but steady): "…Do it yourself."
The room fell into silence. Even the guards froze.
Vencor's smirk faltered for the first time. Just slightly.
Then, slowly, it returned.
Vencor: "tch…So be it."
He waved his hand. The guards dragged the sobbing prisoner out of the room.
Emma's stomach twisted painfully, but her gaze never left Vencor's.
By the fifth day, Emma's body was betraying her. Her hands shook when she tried to steady them, her lips cracked and bleeding. Her stomach had gone beyond growling—it felt like an empty pit, clawing at itself.
She lay chained in the corner of the chamber, her breathing shallow, eyes heavy-lidded. The guards checked on her from time to time, whispering that maybe she wouldn't last another night.
But Emma wasn't broken. Not yet.
The weakness brought hallucinations.
In the dark of the chamber, she thought she saw her childhood friend, Diana. leaning against the wall, smiling faintly, waving her over. For a fleeting second, Emma's lips parted as if to call her name. Then—gone.
The visions hurt more than hunger. They taunted her, mocking the things she had lost.
On the seventh day, Vencor entered again. This time with only a single glass of water, set deliberately just out of Emma's reach.
Vencor: "How's my little Girl? Still defiant? Still clinging to your little delusions? I've seen men kneel after three days. You've lasted seven. Impressive."
He crouched, his voice low, almost soothing.
Vencor: "But you can't win, Emma. Your body will fail. And when it does, you'll beg me. You'll call me father. Just like before."
Emma slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were empty, but beneath that emptiness was a faint spark—small, but alive.
Her voice came out raw, cracked from dehydration.
Emma: "…You're afraid."
Vencor froze, just for a second.
Emma (whispering, a weak smile tugging at her lips): "You think I'll break… but I'd rather die than be yours again."
For the first time, anger flashed in Vencor's face. He grabbed the glass of water and smashed it against the floor beside her, shards scattering across the ground.
Vencor (furious): "We'll see how long that tongue holds out."
He stormed out, the door slamming shut.
Emma sagged back against the wall, her body trembling.
Her eyes closed, drifting in and out of consciousness, the war between body and mind raging on.
Chapter End