Kierra

The guys are getting comfortable over in the main area, showing Rika that it's okay.

"I'd say when you get up later, the bandages can be removed. Will still want to take it easy though, no crazy stuff."

They're so loose anyway I'm not sure how they've made it this far. I set him down next to the hyena and step back. Bastion's footsteps can be heard coming from the stairs, so I leave them to it and head back up. Ruffling my Imp’s hair as he walks by gets me a sleepy smile.

Grabbing a glass of juice, I turn to Benjamin, Xavier, and Bryanna. Arctic brothers are out and about doing their thing, so it's just us. Grabbing the bag of dinner rolls, I head to the couch and get comfy. Dinner of champions.

The others watch me curiously, Xavier also wearing a grin and raised brow.

"Bry, you can either snag my bed or you can join below, up to you. Don't see the point in giving you a 'tour' of the place when you can pretty much see everything from the hallway. Closed bedroom belongs to my sister Faline, but Bastion uses it on occasion for his things. If you're hungry, help yourself to what's available."

Thinking about it, with all the mouths, going to have to make another trip here soon. Yay! Not. Doesn't seem like I can just go and come back, something always comes up in one way or another.

The lioness still eyeballs me in question as the maned wolf moves his guitar to lean against the wall near the desk, then takes up his usual seat. Vampire paces for a moment before straddling the stand-alone seat that goes with the couch. With his long legs, he makes it look easy.

She finally moves closer and takes a seat near me, so I offer the rolls.

"Alright Benji, why are you here pestering my boys?"

His face flashes in annoyance before he blanks it, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a USB drive. My jaw stills, mushy dough caught in my cheek for a full minute before I swallow it down. Should figure by now that whenever he shows up, it's never with good news.

Green eyes shoot to his and he nods.

"The chip you gave me, I have everything off of it."

Setting aside the bread, no longer hungry, I stand and start pacing myself. The need to move paramount.

"Have you watched what's on it?"

He nods, face still blank as he watches me intently. The thought to feel scared crosses my mind, but that would still have me feeling like a victim, and I told myself before that I would no longer be. Refuse to let anyone make me feel like that anymore.

I hold out my hand for it, but he hangs on to it for a second before letting it go.

"There is sound, I suggest muting it. Especially since the boy is on it."

That makes me wince. Bastion would be horrified if he knew about it. Only saving grace here is that with his human ears, he shouldn't have heard Ben's low voice.

Instead of asking him any more questions, I slip it into my computer and prepare myself for what's on it. Sitting is out of the question, so I just lean on the table while looking through the files. Money transactions, named files, hundreds of pictures, and several videos.

A few of the video clips are named, but most are just dated. Scrolling through them, I stop on the one sharing the dates I was held. Ignoring the bodies behind me, I mute sound and push play.

The screen flickers and focuses, the picture bouncing from the person holding the camera. The room is dark before a light is turned on, a bright bare bulb flaring to life on the ceiling. I recognize the filthy room instantly. It's the one I had woken up in.

Looks almost exactly the same as I remember, the only difference being that I'm looking at my prone body instead of looking through it. The angle changes as whoever is holding the recorder moves in closer, zooming in on my blood-covered clothes and hair. With it muted, I don't know if anything's being said, but the focus changes as a hand comes forward to move the matted strands from my face.

My stomach churns when I recognize the hand, having had nightmares of it often. James's hand pulls away just to push the still body over. Going from laying on its belly to its back, hair once more being pulled away from the almost dead appearing face.

Seeing myself like that is unsettling, to say the least; deathly pale, covered in blood and mangled shirt sticking to my shoulder and abdomen. Unconsciously, my real-time hand moves from its death grip on the desk to my healed arm, then down my body to where claws had been dragged down my front. My own claws have extended, pricking against my skin as my eyes stay glued to the screen. Afraid to see, yet afraid to miss the smallest thing.

My shoulder is zoomed in on, but the mass of black blood and my dark shirt obscure any real visual. I watch as thick, dirty fingers play over the shown wounds, probing them in a way to cause pain. Panning back, he focuses on my face, which shows pain lines forming around my mouth, unconscious expression clearly showing that I can feel it.

I grip my arms hard as I watch those disgusting appendages poke and probe, two getting shoved down my throat for several seconds at a time. The picture bounces as the camera is set down, pointing towards my prone shape. A needle is brought forward and shoved into my neck, plunging a sickly looking substance into my bloodstream.

They'd pumped me full of that shit for at least three days, keeping me passed out till a time they could enjoy themselves. Three more short clips show my 'progress' during that duration, clothing getting more and more soiled as I was set to lay in my own waste. Vomiting several times, once on his shoes while he'd been recording.

From the jerky movements after, it's obvious he isn't happy, even going so far as to grab my hair and yank my head back. My face is lined, still pale but not as bad as before. I watch in horror as water is dumped over me, almost drowned before moved so I could breathe.

It just gets worse after that, the picture janky with his abrupt movements. The reason is unclear until he angles it down enough to show he'd undone his pants. My heart thunders hard in my chest as I feel the need to vomit presently.

My body shakes as I watch the events unfold. His jacking himself till he was hard, then rubbing himself over my face and mouth. My stomach flips hard, bile rising fast.

Claws dig into my arms hard as I work at steadying myself, blood flowing from punctures I inflict on myself. I almost lose it when he starts pushing into my mouth, but he doesn't get far before the camera starts moving wildly. My breathing is quick as I watch the picture jump and tumble till it flickers and almost goes blank.

It rights itself, looking as if it'd been dropped by the angle. Only showing my almost dead seeming form before James's lower half comes back into the picture, gripping himself as he bends over. A smile starts forming when I pick up on what happened.

Clears up even more when it shows him gather himself back into his pants carefully, almost tenderly. The next scene to play out is him slapping me repeatedly before the picture moves once more and shuts off completely.

The video clip ends there, closes out and goes back to the list. I stand there and stare at the screen for a few more minutes before a touch to my arm has me startling so hard that I let out a squeak.

Shameful. I lose cool points for that.

Widened yellow eyes go to brown, blinking several times to clear away the moisture that had started to form. Bryanna looks at me in distress, her mouth parted as she attempts to speak. Shaking my head, I step away and rush for the bathroom, not looking at the guys at all.

Why didn't I watch the damn thing in private? Bad enough that it had happened, but now there are witnesses to it. A woman seeing it isn't that bad, uncomfortable but bearable, the guys, however... Fuck.

Cold water gets splashed on my face, multiple times. Finally looking up, I see the mouthwash on the sink, so I snatch it up and start swishing. The thought of scraping off a couple layers is forefront in my head, everywhere that he touched me.

I pull the images of his dead and dying body up, the relish I felt in causing it. The remembered smell sends me over though, upheaving all the starch I'd just eaten. Excessive saliva and alcohol burn from the mouthwash save me from most of the taste, but vomit is vomit, no matter what comes up.

While the images provide some comfort, fucked up I know, the smell didn't have to stay with me. Pushing it all aside, I splash and gurgle some more. Gonna end up with the deadest mouth in the place.

Resorting to keeping my hands busy and moving, I brush and put up my hair. Holding a hand under freezing water then placing it over the back of my neck. The cold is always refreshing to me.

Eyes land on my reflection in the mirror and stay. Don't look anything like the body in the video, so it helps distance me from it. Didn't have the silver streaks either, so they must have stayed after that first change.

My gaze falls to my shoulder, knowing what lies beneath the cloth. If I'd been human, not only would I be very dead, but my shit would be all sorts of fucked-up. Broken collarbone, shredded muscle mass, sunken in from flesh and meat missing, and that isn't adding in the gouges I'd have going down my chest to just below my navel. Yay for supernatural healing.

Lifting my shirt to just below my chest, I look at my skin. Still thick in the middle, belly rounded and hard with muscle. What I look at though is the very faint lines trailing down, barely there, yet I will always be able to see them.

Small blood trails on my arms remind me that I'd done damage to myself to keep from lashing out or running. They get wiped away easily enough, the small marks already closed and healed. Should probably find a different thing to do than tear into myself, but weirdly enough, it helps center me.

Sighing, my brain given the needed reprieve of the video’s; images, I'm able to settle myself. Sort of. Drying my face, I go back to the living room. The added comfort of having bitten the hell out of him is also in the forefront of my brain, making the whole impact of it lessen, just a little.

Going past the desk, I go straight for the fridge and grab a bottle of the only alcoholic beverage I have. Smirnoff. My saving grace. I don't chug it, but I take a large swallow.

Never could chug anything, it just doesn't work. When I finally look at the others, I have to do a double-take of the wall and floor, really out of it for having not seen it sooner.

A layer of rapidly melting frost coats parts of the floor and wall around the desk, branching out from the spot I'd been standing. Blinking at it as it slowly dissipates, the moisture leaves the area darkened and damp.

Whoops, my bad.