Digging Through The Roots [Chaos]

The past few days had been rough. I don't honestly know how we managed to recover from this latest disaster, but we did. Kaya's memory returned and she somehow forgave me for eating her father (despite how much of a scumbag he was) while he still drew breath. Wounds like that can't easily be mended, but I like to thing we will come out of this stronger than how we were. Trig is still terrified of me - though that's honestly not my problem - so both redhead's are home alone tonight. Perhaps he can be made to see the other side of this puzzle, the one that isn't absolutely insane?

Strangulation hadn't been good to me. It took at least a week for me to once again struggle control over my vocal chords; they once gave away completely and I went into a fit of horror because my voice wouldn't come forth. Weeks have now passed since my turbulent return from prison, and I'm pleased to say that after fourteen days of feeling helpless and lazy I'm well on the way to recovery. Muscles are once again outlined against my arms and stomach, though nowhere near as strong as they used to be. I'm still sick, there's no doubt. But my ribs have healed and I don't struggle for breath all that much anymore. Two more weeks at best, and I'll be right back up where I used to be. It's cause for high morale and celebration.

Which is why I'm sitting at this club with my feet up and a vodka bottle in hand, grinning along with buddies who I lost touch with over my month's stint in jail. Kaya insisted that she wanted to stay with Trig for the night - and who am I to deny family bonding? - so I left alone, and for the first time in a while, will come back alone. They joke that she's got me whipped and I roll my eyes, but I know it's true. Somehow, I don't mind all that much.

Pulsing bodies and thrumming music cloud my senses a little, which is why I didn't immediately notice the tap on the shoulder. However, I couldn't help but hear a single word uttered from a stranger, that instantly made my eyes take on a dangerous shade and my friends stop laughing at the expression I showed. They knew it well, it was 'somebody is going to get hurt'. Yellow flashing angrily, I spin in my seat and pull myself up to my full six foot two height, glaring down at whoever had the guts to speak the name that is forbidden. I've buried that past a long time ago (Kaya the only exception) and I really don't appreciate others waltzing in and screwing it all up.

"Tammy?"

The culprit is at least half a foot shorter than me, yet her stance is curious. Wide eyed and young, she couldn't be older than sixteen - though the short skirt and ample cleavage suggests she used her body to gain access to the club. Smart. Rusty hair that reminds me way too much of a certain man that's currently six feet under, contrasting vividly against the pale white flesh. Though if the light shines in a certain direction I see scars much like my own criss-crossing her snowy skin, whispering of a life that was far from perfect. I pull my lips back over my teeth to reveal nubile bone that gleams sticky bright in the stygian darkness, a warning. A low rumbling growl starts at the base of my chest to make my body vibrate, eyes narrowing to slits as I size her up. What business does she have with a ghost?

"You have some balls to come in here saying that name, girl." I hiss, voice dangerously low. "Tammy's been dead for a long time, and will stay that way. I don't even know how you know her, and I personally don't care. But you don't say it again, or else I might have to result to some... unpleasantness." The space seems to drop in temperature as my tone becomes quiet and silky, firm and clear in its meaning.

Teach her a lesson. It'll stop her from getting ideas. Elegant brows furrow in annoyance as I give a slight shake of the head, as if it will cast the monster away. While I know it won't work, it's better than just standing there listening to it. Dignifying it with an answer just makes it more vocal.

She appears bewildered and a little bit confused. Her lips draw in with concentration as she glances up at me through mixed lashes, puzzlement in her gaze. "But you're Tammy. You're my--"

Sucking in a deep breath I place one hand on her shoulder to perhaps escort her to the door, but a sudden movement takes me by surprise. Quick and precise I'm not sure if it was simply instinct or a drilled response, but her fist comes up and pegs me square in the right cheekbone. Since I'm blinded on that side I couldn't react in time, and my head snaps back as a foot seeks balance behind me. There is a muted intake of breath from my friends as she draws back her arm, clearly uncertain as to why she did that and what's going to happen now. Slowly, I bring my head back into a neutral position, fixing her with an unreadable gaze. Again I draw back my lips, but this time the low growl is a horrible snarl; raw and guttural, slipping from my mouth like a creature aching to break free. Though the noise seethes anger, my voice is eerily cold, though you can detect a hint of anger in its depths.

"Fine." I rumble, my fingers curling to form loose claws. "Maybe I'll add to that wound collection of yours."

Drawing upon whatever skill I have I lash out with a hand, knuckles connecting solidly with her face. She reels backwards and grasps her flesh - but her expression changes into something strange. Sinister. While my expression stays neutral, a grim gleams deep in the crevices of my mind.

Again she hits me and I bound backwards so that her fist just grazes my face. Hooking her, I raise an eyebrow when she raises an arm to deflect and kicks me in the shin. Seems she knows what she's doing. Going in for an uppercut a smirk twists my lips as at last second I flip my arm and unclench my hand, nails raking painfully across the skin of her cheek. Blood is drawn, and I plunge headfirst into the fight.

We dance across the floor; trading blows and words. She's quite good but I have both height and weight on her, giving my blows more impact. Melting away from her, I flit back to deliver a knee that glances her side. Whoever she is probably didn't come looking for a fight tonight if her outfit is any indication, but I find that I'm having fun. And... I'm intrigued by the positively switched personality on her face. It even seems slightly evil. My musing is interrupted as she lands one in my solar plexus, making my breath whistle out of me. Still it throws her off balance; my years of being a swordsmaster alerts me to a gap in her concentration. Not even registering the dull throb in my healing ribs I throw out a vicious roundhouse with my right leg, allowing a satisfied smile as a crack echoes when it connects with her temple. She staggers, disoriented, and I grab her by the collar, shoving her to the far room where there are far less people.

Roughly I slam her against the wall, an arm across her throat and a knee between her legs incase she decides to fight back again. But from the slightly glassy look in her eyes I believe I've gotten her good. Still, it's nice that she's got me breathing heavily. The girl's better than I thought. "What do you want?" I hiss, voice like velvet. "My patience wears thin."

My eyebrows steadily raise in a mix of confusion and amusement as she backs him violently up against the wall, his head making impact with a loud crack that sends shivers of twisted delight up my spine. He's just so scared and the expression... well, if I want to be truthful, it turns me on.

But just ever so slightly.

I allow myself a slight scowl as he spits out the reason for her departure. To be honest and despite how much I've tried to chide myself, I don't think I've really gotten over the years of abandonment that my parents created. Sure, maybe I don't give them enough credit. But as my illness became more and more apparent, him and mother grew exhausted. Embarrassed. And eventually, they just gave up and stopped trying. If there's one thing I won't forgive them for no matter what they do now, it's giving me up to the doctors with the white coats and scary eyes; leaving me in their hands that smelt of anasthetic and death. Maybe if they hadn't sent Ember away I would've had somebody that understands, and wouldn't have ended up so filthyfilthyfilth--

I jerk my head angrily to the side, shaking to try and dislodge those thoughts. Where the hell had they come from? A turn to the monster shows it is silent - I only have blame for myself. What...?

he patter of feet down the stairs interrupts my thoughts, and I glance up to see him running to us. When the bright shock of red hair comes into view my first feeling is a shot of incoherent rage, still prominent from our childhood. "What the fu-" But he is interrupted by Ember, growling and brandishing pliers with eyes like the deepest dark of insanity - hey, I can see the family resemblance now! - over Father's shivering frame. His eyes instantly fly to the pliers and he attempts to reach out for a weapon, anything, but it evades him. He's the picturesque model of tired confusion with his hair sticking up every which way and the wide eyed expression on his square, handsome features.

A slight frown at the way her next sentence is worded. What did I do to them? The list could go on and on... Still, in the pause that awaits a response I leisurely push myself off the doorway, uncrossing my arms from under my chest. The movement draws both attentions over to me, and their eyes darken in disbelief, hatred and rage. Kander's gaze wanders as he looks at me, obvious who I am despite the six years we've been apart. "You..." He hisses, fists clenched in fury, veins popping from underneath his skin. While we might be related our frames are the complete opposite; I'm lithe and acrobatic while he's hulking and thick. While everybody in this room has pale, pale skin and red hair I have tanned flesh and inky locks. Taken after mother. Nobody's quite sure where my height came from but it suits me fine, I don't have any urge to resemble family.

"Hello, little brother. My voice is quiet and smooth, with a hint of a smirk curling my lips. Slowly I walk over so that I'm merely a few feet away from him and standing next to the trembling man that's tried to draw himself up to his full height. Pitiful. With a quick snap my knee impacts his jaw and sends him sliding down the wall, whimpering. There's a sharp intake of breath and I raise gleaming eyes to hateful counterparts, my mouth twisted into a barbed grin.

It's a well known fact that Kander worships the very ground my father walks on, practically a carbon copy of him. Apparently to the people he cares about he's a sweet, loving man; too bad I never got to see that side of him. Though if I want to be honest I'm not complaining, we never got along... with or without the monster involved. "Is this a new whore? I thought you were with that slut Kaya." An instant pull of protective anger washes over me and I expose straight, sharp teeth that gleam cruelly in the lowlight. "Kaya is anything but a slut." I snarl angrily, taking a step towards him. "But no, this is Ember. Your sister." There's a moment of stunned silence as he stares at the crumpled man and the crazed redhead. Suddenly he starts laughing; deep, shaking things that make an eyebrow arch in mild confusion. Has he gone off the deep end?

"You, you expect me to believe that this bitch is my sister? She's threatening Dad with a pair of pliers, for God's sake!" Suddenly that fact seemed to bring him down to Earth and he glares at both of us. "Always the dramatic one, Tammy. I'm going to bring down all of the Keeper force down on your ass." My foot lashes out and catches him on the edge of the jaw, sending him spinning to the floor. My foot throbs from the rough impact but I refuse to show it, instead grinding my heel into the side of his head and forcing his skin deeper into the old wooden flooring. "You should know by now not to call me that, Kander." I hiss, but something dawns on me. With a humming noise I enjoy the way he flails under my grasp, absently shoving his nose into the ground so hard there is a quiet snap. He howls. "My name is Flight now. Tammy died when you were nine."

Still, I roll him over and deliver a cripple blow to his solar plexus. Kander flops like a fish out of water and a saccharine smile alights my face as I turn to the elder man. He scrambles back in fear but I grip him by the collar and lift him up, heaving with a grunt to shove him forcefully down in the chair. "Time to play Truth or Dare, daddy dearest." I sing, snaring ducttape out of the cabinet and binding his arms behind his back and to the chair. After a moment's deliberation I laboriously haul Kander's writhing form and tie him thick to the other, opposite chair. "Every truthful answer will result in no pain. Any false or vague ones will make me and Ember taking turns daring each other which appendage to cut off first." A level gaze.

"And despite my preferences that you've damned me for, I won't hesitate to touch and cut what you hold dear."

For the whole time I remain silent, watching them with critical eyes. I don't even flinch as Kander's hand drops to the floor with a sick thud and his screams turn ear-shattering, nor do I feel a pinprick of pity. Father has made some deals with the rather unsavory people of the Capitol; I'm sure my dear brother can get a new hand no problem. Blood gushes from his limb and I saunter over and slap ducttape around the stump, yanking it tight to halt the flow. We don't want him dying on us, now do we? A backhand that sounds like a crack of thunder - I've grown tired of his voice - silences his cries to pathetic whimpers. "I'm not insane, exactly."I start, eyes flashing dangerously and lips lifting in a way I manage to make sinister despite the innocent intentions. "I don't know. I didn't stick around the institution long enough to hear their eventual diagnosis." Pause. Turn. "Ember, you didn't really miss much. Entertain them for a moment, I want to get something."

Descending into the dank basement I can still hear Kander's pitiful whining like a dying animal as I shoulder open the door to father's study. Things are as I remember it; bookshelf on the left, map on the right, desk in front. And, of course, a safe underneath stacks of paper. It doesn't take me long to pick the rusty lock and it swings open, revealing piles upon piles of tapes. Snaring a handful and one that caught my eye, I trudge back upstairs and place them on the living table. With a determined expression I grab the backs of the chairs and pull, dragging them in front of the television. My brother is still too out of it to care but the other one knows as his eyes find the evil black recordings.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, and I grin which prompts a murmuring from the hole of deepest dark inside my chest and the monster creeps into my eyes, ugly and strong and so very angry. It watches the man that ruined my life even before they sent me away, and I lick my lips as the ghosts of his hands appear on my flesh. I no longer trust my voice and instead slap one tape into the old VCR, watching the grainy, handheld images flicker to life.

---

It starts out simple enough. Him fiddling with the device to see how it works, grunting in triumph when it actually turns on. A whitewashed room with very little distinguished markings, coupled with a painted window that lets nothing filter through into the airless space. A single fluorescent bulb hums to life to illuminate the scared child that's sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her hair is in pigtails with the chestnut locks falling down her shoulders - she can't be older than nine - and a school uniform with the skirt riding up her thighs. The camera zooms in on her face and she looks up with wet eyes, wiping in vain at her face.

"If you do what we say, we'll let you go. Okay?" She nods and shifts uncomfortably on the hard tile, and again his voice floats into the room. "Good. Now, what's your name?" The child sniffs but replies, her tone wavering in fear. "Cindy..." The camera shifts slightly and zooms out to reveal all of her now, barely catching the end of the buzzing light. "Well, Cindy. I'm going to have to ask you to take off your shirt." Cindy whimpers and squirms, shuffling backwards, away from the camera. But the space is tight and she can't get far enough away from the zoom feature, and it scans in between her legs when her heels dig into the concrete floor. "Cindy, I don't want to hurt you. But we will if you don't do what you're told. Bad girls get hurt." Hesitantly her fingers grasp the buttons of her uniform, popping the clasps one by one. It falls away to reveal a flat, childish stomach covered nothing but her arms that she wraps around herself, shivering. The poor thing looks terrified but all the color drains from her face - presumably from a look that he gave her offscreen - and slowly uncurls her arms, tears slipping down her soft cheeks....

.....

She's now naked and standing in front of the room, whipping her head back and forth as things happen away from our view. There is a shuffling and a large man appears in the screen, advancing slowly on her. Cindy backs up into a corner but there's nowhere to go and whimpers as he grabs her by the arm. "Now, you've been a good girl and we'll let you go. But you still have to do one more thing..." She cries out as the large man lifts her high into the air and slams her down on the ground, knocking all the air out of her fragile body and rendering her momentarily stunned.

The camera moves quickly and is now level with her and the man, stilling as it touches the floor. Again the disembodied voice floats out from behind the lens, full of thick lust and sinister intent. "You know what to do." The big muscle smirks and pins down the young girl's wrists with one hand, reaching for his pants with the other. As they come off she must understand to an extent what's happening because she tries desperately to twist away. "Mmm, slowly. There we go..."

Her screams echo against the concrete prison.

---

For a moment I stare as the picture dissolves into static, before I slide carefully blank eyes trembling with concealed rage to his pale face. With meticulous care I take the video and pull it out of the VCR, laying it almost gently on the table. "You always liked the little girls, didn't you, daddy?" It is rhetorical and he's not supposed to respond; it's a good thing he doesn't because I think I would've run the knife through him right there. Even Kander is staring, speechless at the now black screen. My fingers curl into shaking fists that slam into the wall beside the older man's head, splintering drywall and making him flinch violently. "All those videos of them." A wide gesture at just a handful of those sinister things sitting pretty on the wooden table. "Because the Capitol likes their little ones, don't they? I grab another one at random and shove it in, fully intending him to watch another. But the altogether different setting makes my alarm go off inside my head, even as the scene unfolds.

---

It is quiet; nothing but the whispering of the floorboards as they creak under the cameraholder's weight alerts the world that any presence is inside. It is the top floor of a small house, the lens swings right as the man begins padding down the hallway. A seemingly random door is pushed open - the clock tells the watcher it is past midnight - and a bed is revealed. Moonlight shines down onto a pool of shiny ink black hair, shielding the person's face from view. Female, roughly ten or eleven years old. She mumbles in her sleep and turns over, blankets slipping off to show a flat caramel stomach that rises gently in sleep. The view shivers in excitement as the device is attached to something - a shoulder holster, perhaps? - and two hands are now visible, detached from body.

As the man's body climbs on the bed the girl stirs, twitching in the realm between wakefulness and dream. A rough hand goes to carress the bulge shown in the edges of view, and another slides up the cotton of her top, touching the smooth skin hidden underneath. At this she wakes up, legs flying up on instinct to push off the intruder. He grasps her ankles with powerful arms and spreads them apart, shoving his body into the hole between her legs to gain power. A strange noise halfway through an enraged shout and a scared whimper escapes her throat as slender hands come up to his chest to push him off; but they are swiftly pinned above her head.

"Now now, be a good girl." His words are dripping with want and sadistic lust as leather cuffs appear from nowhere and are slapped onto her wrists and then to the railings of her bed. She writhes in her holds and her hips buck wildly in an attempt to get away but he is stronger, and her efforts in vain. "What the-- get off!" She growls, her voice not yet broken into adulthood yet far from a child's. But her shorts are yanked down to expose glistening skin and he sucks in a violent breath, hands going upupup underneath her shirt. She cringes violently and the chains rattle; yet don't break. Trapped.

Moonlight pours into the window to illuminate her face, stark with rage and fear to make bright golden eyes glow in the lowlight---

---

Oh god, not this. Anything but this. I remember that night.

---

as a zipper is pulled down with a decided hiss and the lens begins to rock in time with him. She cries out in pain and wraps her legs around his waist to try and push him off, but there isn't enough leverage. "Stop! Stop, it hurts." But it isn't the crying that a newly non-virgin would make and instead just the one that wasn't prepared for what just happened, and you're struck with the certainty that it's happened before. Another hand comes to muffle her cries and her struggles only grow more intense, arching against his disgusting hold...

---

Dead silence as the tape finishes, and I struggle to hold in the monster as I feel the pain between my thighs and the rough touches like it was yesterday that he snuck into my room. Instead I turn burning eyes to him and reveal shiny teeth, shaking in fury as a hand sinks into the fragile flesh of his throat. "You liked to fuck me, didn't you?" My eyes have constricted so that you can barely see the pupil, face contorted into a picturesque feline mask of hatred as gleaming sharpness pokes promising from my mouth. "It started out with little touches, but soon it turned to that." My fist curls tighter, he gasps for air.

"Tell me, what did you do for money once your prized star was gone?"