The Shattering of Souls

this is the cover your ass bit. seeing as it\'s my ass, and i like it where it is just fine, i will cover it as best i can manage. so far, only izzy and bri are mine. the rest belongs to j.k. rowling. she is the harry potter goddess, and i bow to her all encompassing power. i am stating that i merely borrowed her characters and places and stuff to play with. i will put them back when i finish. if i ever finish....
~no! you will put them back~ shut up, you! ~i will not! i will not see us imprisoned because..... hey, is the mic still on? oh, shite......

second, this is definitely the start of some of the draker aspects of this fic. rape and torture will be depicted in this chapter, and most likely those to folllow. if this offends you, or you don\'t care for it, please don\'t go on. i have posted fair warning, so if you read on and become emotionally scarred, you cannot place the blame on me. it\'s in print, the warning. right up there^

also, please feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you think of my progress on this. this is my first attempt at dark fiction, so let me know how i\'m doing! no flames, please, as i will use them to roast your ass. and the dragon is almost back to one hundred percent...

Chapter Four: Take the Body and Break the Mind
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She sat huddled in the corner, eyes closed and arms wrapped around her knees, hugging them to her chest. The room was dark, filled with a silence that was so very nearly complete, it was suffocating. She didn\'t know if it were night or day. She had, in fact, lost track of time altogether. She couldn\'t quite remember how long she\'d been there. Where ever she was. The people who were holding her prisoner kept her locked in this dark, dank cell. There wasn\'t even a window in the door.

Her stomach growled, sounding loud in the quiet that surrounded her. It reminded her that it had been some time since anyone had brought her food. If you could call a moldy chunk of bread food. At first, she had refused to eat the decaying lump of stale bread. But she had eventually given in. She\'d barely been able to crawl across the floor to it, she\'d been so weak. It had been so long since she\'d actually eaten, she\'d been hallucinating. Now, they brought a crust to her in long, irregular intervals. She supposed that days passed between one paltry feeding and the next. And it was always delivered by the arrogant looking blonde or the woman with the crazy eyes. Both took great pleasure in belittling her, trying to make her beg for her pittance.

She never did. Death would be preferrable, if only she could shake the idea that she had important business somewhere else that required her specifically. The idea that she had something left to do kept her alive when she\'d rather Death take her. So she ate the rotten bread they brought.

They didn\'t bring her water, though. She was left to either dehydrate or find an alternate form of liquid. When her thirst had gotten too great to ignore, she\'d broken down and licked at the trickles of foul water that could be found on the walls. She\'d nearly gagged several times, but found that she did feel a touch less hollow after the fact. As if it filled her up. She was so used to it now that the act came without conscious thought. Whenever she felt thirsty, she sought out the rank rivulets on the wall. It seemed to help quench her parched throat.

But the lack of proper diet had taken it\'s toll. She was so weak, she could barely move. She couldn\'t remember a time when she could. In fact, there was very little she\'d found she could recall. Her memories, it seemed, were gone.

She was certain she\'d had a life before this hell hole, but there was nothing in her mind to prove it. She couldn\'t even remember her name. Her two tormentors almost never called her anything but \'bitch,\' and she now answered to it as if she had always been called such. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn\'t remember any single event in her life before the darkened room. She honestly couldn\'t.

Her captors never believed her. They came to her every day to ask her questions. Questions she couldn\'t answer. No matter how hard she tried. And she tried to remember the answers to their questions, but all she got for her efforts was a headache and a beating. And no matter how hard she tried, those were things she couldn\'t forget.

The temperature dropped, setting her teeth to chattering for more than one reason. She knew a Dementor stood outside the door to her cell. She knew it was a Dementor, because she\'d heard them call the black garbed things by that name. She could feel it there, trying to suck whatever joy there was out of her. There was none. It was all gone, forgotten. Like she had been.

From up the hall, she heard the laughter, and she shuddered. He was coming.

She tried to huddle further in on herself, curling into a tight ball in the corner. She heard the door swing wide, then a footstep. There was light as the steps approached. She kept her head buried in her arms, but his hand slipped over her head almost tenderly before cruel fingers dug into her hair, the nails scraping against her scalp as he closed his long digits around a handful of her tresses. He jerked her head up, forcing her lost gaze to meet his, even though she was literally blinded by the soft glow of the candle. \'Good afternoon, my dear,\' he greeted her in a silky voice. \'Are you ready for our little talk?\'

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. He grinned down at her, using the hand in her hair to pull her to her feet. He was taller than she was, so she was forced to tilt her head back to look at him. His eyes searched her face, stopping for a moment to admire the fading bruise on her jaw. \'Now, do you care to tell me where the boy is?\'

\'What boy?\' she whispered, trying very hard not to provoke him.

\'Come, come, child. This game grows tiresome. You know perfectly well of whom I speak. There\'s no need to carry on this charade any longer. Simply give me the information I seek, and all this torment will be over,\' he said, the words spoken as a promise. She knew what he was promising. If she told them what they wanted to know, they would kill her. Perversely, that was not how she wanted to meet her end.

\' I swear to you. I don\'t have any clue. I don\'t know who you\'re talking about. I don\'t remember!\' she told him, hating how her voice pleaded shamelessly. He gave her a patently false grin for a moment or two, then he frowned at her.

\' I find that very difficult to believe,\' he returned, his free hand slipping up her arm to curl around her chin. His fingers tightened and squeezed. Tears pricked her eyes, making her hate herself. She could feel the grinding of her bones against each other. There was no doubt in her mind that he would break her jaw if it suited him. He finally let go when she whimpered, two fat tear drops rolling slowly down her cheeks. \'Now tell me!\'

\' I told you, damn it! I don\'t know anything. How can I tell you something I have no recollection of?\' She wished he would tell her what it was she was supposed to know. Perhaps she could then concoct some sort of feasible lie to appease him.

\' I will give you one more chance to answer me. Then I will engage the more persuasive methods in my repertiore to extract what I want to know,\' he warned, his voice going cold and business-like.

\'Fuck you! I! Don\'t! Know!\' she growled, then spat in his face. His free hand reached up to wipe the globule of spittal from his cheek, where she could see the line of a faint scar marring the perfection of his skin. Before she had time to feel smug at the look of disgust that crossed his face, his fist came up and made contact with her cheek. His other hand slithered from her hair, allowing the force of the blow to send her staggering back into the wall. She went numb, falling to the floor as her precious energy gave out. He fell on her before she even thought to move, drawing ragged screams from her throat.

His fist made contact with her cheek bone, dazing her into silence. He tore at the rags she was wearing, ripping them from her body. The worn material shredded in his haste to rid her of it. She brought up her hands, raking her fingers down his cheeks. The edges of her fingernails dug into his flesh, caught it and gouged it open. The runnels began to bleed immediately, the thick fluid dripping onto her face and hair as it flowed. He snarled loudly, then delivered yet another fierce blow that sent pain shooting through her face and head. The ring he wore lacerated the skin of her cheek. She cried out, but continued to fight him.

\'Oh, are we having another session?\' a feminine voice, rich with madness, purred over the sounds of their struggling. He lifted his head to look at the woman.

\'Yes. She\'s being stubborn and terribly uncooperative with me,\' he replied.

\'Goody. May i join in?\' she asked. The young girl beneath him looked to her, fear and panic clouding her eyes. The mad woman grinned, rubbing her hands together in expectation. It was plain to see she enjoyed these sessions. The struggling increased as the young woman tried to desperately push the blonde man off her.

\'Of course. It\'s going to take both of us to break her. I\'m amazed she\'s held out this long,\' the blonde said in his usual silky tones. Then he spat a curse as her fingernails bit into the flesh of his throat. \'You little bitch!\' He reared back, glaring down at her with undisguised hatred burning in his silver eyes. His fist connected with her stomach, punching into it with as much force as he could muster. She went limp beneath him, her bloodied hands falling to her sides.

She watched him as he stood, towering over her as he slowly worked the buttons on his trousers. They came open one at a time. She coughed, trying to gather the strength to move. Before she could lift her arm, the woman was kneeling next to her, her cruel fingers already twisting at tender, bruised nipples. She refused to cry out, instead glaring her defiance and hatred at the two of them. He smiled at her as he knelt between her legs. His hands were just wrapping around her ankles when the other woman stopped him.

\'Wait! I have a gift for you. I found something that I think you\'ll enjoy,\' the black-headed woman turned to the open door and looked at the Dementor standing there. \"Bring it!\' she ordered. Wide eyes followed the movement as the Dementor stepped out of the doorway for several minutes.

When it returned, it carried in some sort of table. The piece was set in the direct center of the room. The blonde stood, ignoring the girl at his feet while he looked it over. He said nothing, but smiled down at her in such a manner that she knew it could mean nothing good. His hand curled in her hair once more, jerking so hard she wrapped her hands around his wrist to keep him from pulling the clump out at the roots. \'On your feet, girl!\' he snarled. She had no choice but to obey when he lifted her by the handful of locks he held.

The thing that the Dementor had brought in looked like an ordianry table, but it was made of heavy, unfinished wood. There were several holes cut into the surface, as well as straps that were imbedded into the top. He threw her onto it, the edge cutting into her legs when she hit it. She moaned, then there were hands shoving her roughly into place.

One of the holes was centered in a way that allowed her breasts to hang through. A pair of hands, she was sure they belonged to the woman, were there to pull at them and hang heavy objects from her abused nipples. There was stinging pain, from whatever held the weights in place, biting into the tender flesh.

His hands were busy pulling leather straps into place. The one that terrified her most was the one he pulled across her throat. It felt too tight and she knew a moment of panic before she realized that she was still breathing. There were more straps, holding various parts of her body down. Her legs were spread wide and kept open with more of the straps. \'One last chance to tell me what I want to know,\' he whispered, his hands already pushing his trousers down.

\'Don\'t know....\' she shook her head as best she could with the strap in place over her neck.

\'Very well,\' he sighed, though she was certain she heard the glee in his voice. She felt his fingers slip between the crack on her bum, pulling the twin globes apart. She could feel the head of his erection rubbing against the puckered rim. She tensed, knowing what was to come. She was surprised, then, when she felt a finger slide along the seam of her nether lips. A second joined the first, then the third and fourth. She felt the thumb resting against her skin for a moment. Then the fingers curled.

She could feel the fist pressing against her lips, trying to fit into the dry passage of her vagina. With a loud grunt, the fist made it\'s way past the outer opening. She bit her lip, refusing to cry out as the invading extremity forced her wide open. It stroked a few times, sending waves of burning pain shooting through her body. She felt tears prick her eyes. She was certain that she would be left bleeding from this round of abuse.

She couldn\'t stop the cry that was torn from her throat when the man behind her shoved himself forcibly into the tight channel of her ass. She heard a pair of chuckles, then the two were stroking themselves in and out of her in unison. The pain was searing, coursing through her system like fire. The tears spilled over her eyelids, rolling down her cheeks to pool on the table where her skin was pressed to the smooth surface. \' I want you to tell me where he is. If you don\'t, we\'ll continue on like this for as long as it amuses us. That could prove to last all night,\' the blonde\'s voice washed over her.

She felt the fist thrust hard, slamming up against her core painfully. The scream left her, even as she felt her mind retreating. It was a small place, much like a box, that her mind crawled into and locked itself away. She felt nothing there. No pain or happiness or sorrow. Only a blissfully numb feeling that spread through out her entire body and blocked all pain for the time she spent there.

She knew she would hurt when she came back. But for now, the numbing darkness was a welcome relief....

~*~*~*~*~

She lay on her meager pallet of musty straw, huddled into a ball against the damp cold, trying to sleep. She was failing miserably. It was too cold for her to doze off now that her only clothing was nothing more than a pile of rags on the floor. Her captors had never bothered to replace it after he\'d ripped it from her. She\'d nearly frozen every night after that. There had been no blanket for her to stay warm with. The torn garments she had been wearing were good for nothing more than cleaning.

Her mind reeled, slipping over the different forms of abuse the two had gladly heaped upon her. It was the stuff of nightmares. She tried to block it all, but she couldn\'t. She could clearly recall each and every minute of pain they had given her. She shivered against the straw, recalling how her body had ached for quite some time after their joint rape. When her mind had climbed from it\'s hiding place, it had felt as if she were on fire.

She had come back to herself to find the two of them standing over her, leering down at her battered body. She was still stretched across the table, her bottom and vagina both burning with pain. She knew she was bleeding, could feel the thick, warm drops roll slowly down her thighs. An occasional soft \'plop\' filled the silence for a heartbeat as the liquid hit the stone floor. The woman had cackled into the silence, sending a shiver up her spine upon hearing it. \'Look at her. She looks so pathetic laying there. Not at all the brave little Gryffindor she once was.\'

She\'d puzzled over the odd sentence for a moment. The words had meant nothing to her, though it was obvious from the way the woman spoke that it should. \'Yes, but there\'s something missing,\' the man had drawled slowly. She\'d heard his booted feet moving around the table, giving her the impression he had been studying her spread body. The silence had once more taken control of the room as he\'d stopped his movements and ran a hand down the length of her spine. \'Ah, I have it. She\'s not bleeding nearly enough for my tastes.\'

His heels had clapped noisily against the stones as he\'d headed for the door. She wasn\'t eager for him to return, as she was certain she wouldn\'t be agreeable to whatever he had in mind. The quiet had stretched, broken only by the odd rustle of the woman\'s clothes as she\'d shifted her body while they\'d awaited his return. She\'d known a fear so powerful, she\'d been able to actually taste it. They\'d never complained about the lack of blood before.

It hadn\'t been long before he\'d returned. She\'d never seen what he\'d brought back with him, but the stinging of her back had told her it was sharp. Neither one of them had spoken to her. He\'d merely come back into the room and begun the newest torture. She\'d felt the instrument glide over her skin, laying a trail of pain that had gone from stinging to burning in only a short time. He\'d dragged it almost idly over her flesh, and it had struck her that he\'d actually carved something into the blank canvas of her back.

When they\'d dragged her from the table, they\'d dropped her on the hard floor, letting her land on her back. Pain had shot up her body, rendering her immobile and blind for several moments. When she\'d been able to move, to see, they had been gone. The table had been taken with them, and it was once more dark. The door was closed, no doubt locked tight when they\'d left. She\'d been left alone once more, bleeding and sore. And once more forgotten.

She cringed at the memory of it, of being reduced to the quivering mess she was. She was certain no person was supposed to be treated in such a manner. She started to wonder if what ever knowledge they sought was worth the pain they inflicted upon her weakened body. She\'d have given it to them by now, if she was only able to recall what it was. She was almost positive about that. The pain was not worth whatever it was they thought she was protecting.

She shifted, pulling her knees in tighter, despite the way her back pulled with the movement. It still pained her badly, the lines he had cut into it pulling with every little shift she made. She was so cold, her fingers were going numb. She could barely feel them anymore. She could feel sleep hovering, just out of her grasp. If she could make her mind stop working, perhaps she would drift off. Maybe she\'d be lucky enough to never wake again.

There was a rustling noise on the other side of the small room. She tensed, wondering what she would be faced with this time. Something danced over her bared toes. She could swear she\'d felt tiny nails digging into the near frozen flesh. She reacted with out thought, pulling away from the movement. Searing pain raced up her spine, spilling a groan out from between her lips. A cackle sounded in the darkness, bringing her to utter stillness.

The mad woman was in her cell. She searched the darkness for her in vain. Her eyes couldn\'t see anything. Something flashed over her feet again. She squealed and drove herself backward until her back slammed against the cold brick wall. She ground her teeth together, trying to hold back the second cry of pain. A whimper still managed to escape. She could feel the cold hands of terror wrapping themselves around her brain, making it impossible to think. \'Well, well. Our little bitch is awake, I see.\'

She didn\'t answer, merely stared blindly into the darkness. There wasn\'t much more she could do than to wait and see what would happen to her this time. She heard the tap-tap noise the woman\'s booted feet made as she crossed the stone floor. She kept her back pressed to the slimy cold of the wall behind her. It seemed to soothe the pain on her back, but it couldn\'t do anything to dull the terror that had seized her brain.

There was a scuttling noise, followed by something sharp on her toes. She brought her knees up against her chest, burying her face against them. Perhaps if she pretended there was nothing there, it would go away. The tap-tapping noice ceased as something soft flared against her shins. The mad woman was standing in front of her. It had to be a nightmare. It just had to be.

A hand gently stroked over her head, soothing her matted hair as a mother would with a small, frightened child. She felt like a small, frightened child. But this woman was no mother. A cooing sound filled the air as the hand continued to stroke her head. She shivered, waiting for the inevitable pain that would come. \'Oh, my poor child. So frightened and alone. Not to worry. I\'ve brought some friends with to keep you company.\'

A faint squeak filled the air, followed by the same scuttling noise she had heard earlier. Something furry settled over her toes. A rat. A minor irritation told her that it had bitten her. She paid it no mind, until she felt the swarm of furred bodies crawling on and about her. Another whimper of fear slipped from her throat. They were going to cover her and drown her under their small, furried bodies. That would eat her alive..... It took all her strength to fight down the scream that wanted to tear from her throat.

\'Oh, I see they love you, dear. Good. I do so hate to see you all alone. You know, it must be completely horrid to be left by yourself like you have been. I mean, you spent all your time devoted to that silly cause. And then, when things get just a litte rough, all those people who are supposed to be your friends run off and desert you,\' her voice was all honeyed sweetness. It almost sounded as if the woman actually cared about what she felt. But she knew it for the lie it was.

Knowing that didn\'t help her keep her thoughts from swirling almost painfully in her brain. She knew she\'d had some sort of life before she\'d been put in this cell. If she\'d had a life, she must have had friends. But if that were the truth, what kind of friends were they to leave her to this fate? Wouldn\'t they have come looking for her by now? Wouldn\'t they have found her, taken her away from this by now? Why had they not come and gotten her? Why had they forgotten her?

She couldn\'t help the two fat tears that rolled down her cheeks. She was truly left behind, forgotten by those who were her friends and family. Everyone had friends and family. But it appeared she didn\'t. No one wanted her. She drew her legs tighter to herself, trying vainly to comfort herself over the loss. It didn\'t help.

\'Let me help you, dear. There\'s a man coming tomorrow. He\'s a professional torturer. He\'s going to use whatever means necessary to draw the information from you that we need. He will use far harsher tactics with you than we have,\' the voice continued on in the dark. She felt her eyes go wide, the idea that there was someone who could do worse to her than the two of them could frightened her. \' If you could tell me...... perhaps I could see what I could do to keep you safe.\'

She froze, holding her breath in an effort to make it all go away. It was worse than a nightmare. It was a hellish reality that she couldn\'t get away from. She had withstood the two of them and thier twisted means of trying to extract information from her. She had kept her mind about her by any means necessary. Only to have them bring in someone who could do worse? She had kept herself sane for naught. The sob left her before she could stop it, then she was wailing aloud in utter terror. The fear was like a cold hand, squeezing her throat closed. Crushing her heart. Perhaps she would rather let her mind snap. It might be better to go completely mad now and avoid the help of the torturer.

The woman\'s cackle reverberated off the stone walls. She could feel the woman standing over her, glaring maniacally at her, laughing at her. She pulled herself into a ball, making it as tight as she could manage. Her hands flew up over her ears, trying to block out the sound of insanity that echoed about her.

\'When he\'s done with you, bitch, I will take great delight in putting an end to your miserable existence. I will, of course, kill you in the slowest and most painful manner I can manage. I want to make you sing with agony. Create a symphony with the suffering I cause you,\' her voice sneered at her in the blackness. \' I want to see if I can make you scream longer and louder than your mother did when I killed her.\'

She sat stunned, the deranged laughter bouncing crazily off the walls around her. Her hands pressed tighter over her ears, trying to block the noise from her brain. She couldn\'t keep it out, and heard it long after the woman had walked from her cell. It kept running through her brain, chasing after one other thing. The crazy woman had killed her mother......

end chapter four.
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my many thanks to madam shark for being my faithful beta and for giving me her honest opinion in regards to the direction of this fic. she sees the darkness. i don\'t. but then that\'s why i pay her all those pennies. also thanks to red and kenly.... my other usuals. they make me smile.

to jenn- thanks for your review. i really appreciate it, and i hope that this chapter is worth waiting for. please keep reading. and enjoying.

as usual, i would really like to know what everyone else is thinking. i am a feedback/review whore. i live to know what you like. the reviews give me that big goofy grin...... as i said earlier, though. no flames, please. as i will use them to roast your ass with!