I have a lot to say about what’s been going on the last few months. I have so many explanations to give you about cryptic warnings, sudden disappearances, deaths and other horrors. But I can’t really say it, not without victimizing those who were the victims all over again. So I’ll let them tell their parts of this story in the way and at the time of their choosing.
Instead I’ll focus on what happened to me and me alone. This means there will be gaps, but those gaps are there for a reason, they protect people I care about or people innocent of the harms that befell them. They know who they are and they know that I love them and I am profoundly sorry for every injury to them that I was a party to.
My tale isn’t pretty. In the span of a few weeks I was abducted, tortured, raped and had my free will stolen from me. I was forced to participate in the torture, rape and deaths of others. I am still not entirely sure how much of it was real and how much was my abused mind’s attempt to preserve what was left of my sanity, but there are the scars on me and on others that will take many years to heal. Worse, there are empty holes in the lives of others that may never close.
It started when Clarity and I were on or way to a local ice-cream shop back in September. We’d had a momentous day and felt like some chocolate-fudge ripple to celebrate.
We never got there.
We’d been expecting Khavik to come back and finish what he’d started on me for a while now, but we’d never expected him to use a third party to go after me in broad daylight. We also didn’t expect him to have plans for Clarity either.
I tried to resist them, but it was quickly evident that the punishments for my resistance would be meted out on Clarity threefold. Knowing that her safety rested on my compliance I surrendered to Khavik’s agents and was hustled away to a lair to meet with the monster himself.
Khavik’s henchmen had stripped me of all clothing and possessions before presenting me to him . . . a tactic designed both to accent my feelings of vulnerability and to ensure that there were no items secreted upon my person that I could use to cause harm or affect an escape. They took Clarity away someplace else, leaving me to imagine what was being done to her, and how much worse it would be if I drew upon my gifts to defend myself from the leering gaze of the creature that had tormented me so deeply in the past.
I’ll leave the details of what happened there out for the peace of mind of those who might be reading. What I will say is I spent the next few days under the most intimate of abuse at the hands of Khavik and his favored henchman, a beast who insisted he be called Mr. Lupus.
More to come.
Hannah
My Explanation
My Explanation
I will be who I chose to be.
Re: My Explanation
Mr. Lupus was a monster of the first order. A creature so vile I actually preferred Khavik’s presence to Lupus’. This was intentional on their part; Khavik wanted me to bond with him alone, to serve him faithfully and without hesitation. Khavik wanted me to love him . . . or at rather the twisted subservience that he thought love was.
So if Khavik’s dark affection was the carrot, then Mr. Lupus’ perverse attention was the stick. If I disappointed Khavik, I’d be placed in Lupus’ care for a few hours. Then, when Lupus knew if he did anything else to me, it would kill me; he’d leave me in my cell and let me listen to him with Clarity until Khavik summoned me again.
Still, things were not happening fast enough for Khavik’s liking. I did not know why at the time, but he was acting rushed instead of as the patient planner I had always known him to be. It made me think that some of you were coming for me . . . one of very few pleasant thoughts I’d have for a long time.
It was this rush that made Khavik finally resort to raw power. In the past he had used suggestion to lay the groundwork for a total takeover of my mind. The fact that so much of this work had been carefully unraveled by my friends here at Lazlo meant that he’d had to start over from scratch with my conditioning. I’d been preparing mentally for this for some time now. The joy of knowing those with the powers of the mind is you can learn how to resist them, how to keep your own mind when they try to push it away from you.
But this was different than the practice sessions we’d done. I don’t know if it was a matter of them not wanting to cause me harm that kept them from unleashing the full force of their will upon me or if Khavik simply had that much more power at his disposal. Whereas Lusine had seductively stroked my mind to make me want to comply and Psyche had delivered short hard pushes in the way she wanted me to go, Khavik’s attack was larger, broader and more threatening.
Imagine if you will, standing on the shore of a great ocean, an ocean so vast that you cannot see anything before you but the bright blue water. You are alone on the shore of that ocean, no children run along the beach. No dogs splashing in the water, no loved ones holding your hand in the sunshine. Even the seabirds have flown away. In that moment, in which you realize you are totally alone, totally isolated, the ocean begins to move. No longer content to rest against the shore it draws back from you and rears up like an angry dragon. No longer a brilliant blue, the ocean has turned dark and murky, frothing as it churns. Soon the ocean towers above you, so high that it blots out the sun and the sky. Its shadow reaches over you and as far as you can see inland. You know that you are nothing before this force and that when it falls upon you, it will engulf you and then it will destroy you. It holds itself above you for a few moments after you have realized how doomed you are. The ocean savoring the feeling of inevitable destruction creeping through your chest like the cold from an icy spear plunged into your heart.
Then the water comes down on you. . .
Hannah
So if Khavik’s dark affection was the carrot, then Mr. Lupus’ perverse attention was the stick. If I disappointed Khavik, I’d be placed in Lupus’ care for a few hours. Then, when Lupus knew if he did anything else to me, it would kill me; he’d leave me in my cell and let me listen to him with Clarity until Khavik summoned me again.
Still, things were not happening fast enough for Khavik’s liking. I did not know why at the time, but he was acting rushed instead of as the patient planner I had always known him to be. It made me think that some of you were coming for me . . . one of very few pleasant thoughts I’d have for a long time.
It was this rush that made Khavik finally resort to raw power. In the past he had used suggestion to lay the groundwork for a total takeover of my mind. The fact that so much of this work had been carefully unraveled by my friends here at Lazlo meant that he’d had to start over from scratch with my conditioning. I’d been preparing mentally for this for some time now. The joy of knowing those with the powers of the mind is you can learn how to resist them, how to keep your own mind when they try to push it away from you.
But this was different than the practice sessions we’d done. I don’t know if it was a matter of them not wanting to cause me harm that kept them from unleashing the full force of their will upon me or if Khavik simply had that much more power at his disposal. Whereas Lusine had seductively stroked my mind to make me want to comply and Psyche had delivered short hard pushes in the way she wanted me to go, Khavik’s attack was larger, broader and more threatening.
Imagine if you will, standing on the shore of a great ocean, an ocean so vast that you cannot see anything before you but the bright blue water. You are alone on the shore of that ocean, no children run along the beach. No dogs splashing in the water, no loved ones holding your hand in the sunshine. Even the seabirds have flown away. In that moment, in which you realize you are totally alone, totally isolated, the ocean begins to move. No longer content to rest against the shore it draws back from you and rears up like an angry dragon. No longer a brilliant blue, the ocean has turned dark and murky, frothing as it churns. Soon the ocean towers above you, so high that it blots out the sun and the sky. Its shadow reaches over you and as far as you can see inland. You know that you are nothing before this force and that when it falls upon you, it will engulf you and then it will destroy you. It holds itself above you for a few moments after you have realized how doomed you are. The ocean savoring the feeling of inevitable destruction creeping through your chest like the cold from an icy spear plunged into your heart.
Then the water comes down on you. . .
Hannah
I will be who I chose to be.
Re: My Explanation
I can’t describe the sound of the tsunami's approach because there is no word for a sound load enough or deep enough or powerful enough to describe it. You feel the approach more than hear it. A rush of air and noise strikes you like a sledgehammer, knocking you down and forcing your breath from you before the wave itself lands on you.
When the wave hits, it pins you against the ground, crushing you with its enormity, washing over you, pulling away at everything you have, everything that you are. It pushes away memories, hopes and dreams just as easily as it pulls whatever you are holding, whatever you are wearing from you.
If, IF you are fortunate enough not to be crushed from existence in this initial impact, the first fury of the wave passes over top of you, but you still find yourself submerged in a torrent of dark, swirling water. If you are strong, you can try reach the surface before you drown, clawing your way past the debris of what used to be your mind. The current might suck you back down again or hold you in place just a few inches below the surface, so close that your fingertips break the surface and feel the warm air before you are pulled back into the cold blackness of your own sub-consciousness.
Maybe, just maybe, if you put all your remaining strength into it, you can fight through the cold ache of your muscles and the burning pain in your lungs, and make one last solid push and thrust your head above water, if only for an instant. You gasp for air and choke as more waves force their way into your open mouth, stealing half the breath form you. But it is half a breath still, and with that half a breath you fight to stay at the surface, to try and take another. Waves crash down upon you incessantly, knocking that hard fought for air from your lungs.
As I kicked my legs and thrashed my arms to stay at the surface I realized that this is where death lived. Fighting to stay at the surface meant exhausting yourself. As one so in tune with the elements, I probably should have realized it sooner. The ocean is implacable. No matter how long and hard you fight it; you will tire before it does.
It was hard to decide to stop fighting . . . and I think that it may have been the hardest, scariest choice I made in my life to let myself slip below the waves. But I knew I had no chance in fighting the ocean. Instead I had to drift.
As I submerged the tempest began to abate and the seas calmed. I waited, not wanting to waste the resting space I’d found myself by stirring the waters up again. Finally, I let buoyancy carry me to the surface. I let only my nose and mouth break the surface. With aching slowness I let myself breathe, daring not to disturb the calmness.
It was only a moment’s respite. Some small ripple, some faint gasp of breath must have let the storm knew I was not gone yet. Soon the dark clouds whirled above me and the waves again churned around me. I sank below the surface, hoping to wait out the fury of the storm again, but it wasn’t to be. Instead the waters whipped up into greater fury, crashing down to try and force me down into the cold depth to where I would drown.
That’s when I felt a hand grasp my ankle and drag me downwards into the blackness.
Hannah
When the wave hits, it pins you against the ground, crushing you with its enormity, washing over you, pulling away at everything you have, everything that you are. It pushes away memories, hopes and dreams just as easily as it pulls whatever you are holding, whatever you are wearing from you.
If, IF you are fortunate enough not to be crushed from existence in this initial impact, the first fury of the wave passes over top of you, but you still find yourself submerged in a torrent of dark, swirling water. If you are strong, you can try reach the surface before you drown, clawing your way past the debris of what used to be your mind. The current might suck you back down again or hold you in place just a few inches below the surface, so close that your fingertips break the surface and feel the warm air before you are pulled back into the cold blackness of your own sub-consciousness.
Maybe, just maybe, if you put all your remaining strength into it, you can fight through the cold ache of your muscles and the burning pain in your lungs, and make one last solid push and thrust your head above water, if only for an instant. You gasp for air and choke as more waves force their way into your open mouth, stealing half the breath form you. But it is half a breath still, and with that half a breath you fight to stay at the surface, to try and take another. Waves crash down upon you incessantly, knocking that hard fought for air from your lungs.
As I kicked my legs and thrashed my arms to stay at the surface I realized that this is where death lived. Fighting to stay at the surface meant exhausting yourself. As one so in tune with the elements, I probably should have realized it sooner. The ocean is implacable. No matter how long and hard you fight it; you will tire before it does.
It was hard to decide to stop fighting . . . and I think that it may have been the hardest, scariest choice I made in my life to let myself slip below the waves. But I knew I had no chance in fighting the ocean. Instead I had to drift.
As I submerged the tempest began to abate and the seas calmed. I waited, not wanting to waste the resting space I’d found myself by stirring the waters up again. Finally, I let buoyancy carry me to the surface. I let only my nose and mouth break the surface. With aching slowness I let myself breathe, daring not to disturb the calmness.
It was only a moment’s respite. Some small ripple, some faint gasp of breath must have let the storm knew I was not gone yet. Soon the dark clouds whirled above me and the waves again churned around me. I sank below the surface, hoping to wait out the fury of the storm again, but it wasn’t to be. Instead the waters whipped up into greater fury, crashing down to try and force me down into the cold depth to where I would drown.
That’s when I felt a hand grasp my ankle and drag me downwards into the blackness.
Hannah
I will be who I chose to be.
Re: My Explanation
I fell to my knees on a brown dirt floor, coughing and retching as I forced the last of the black water out.
I wasn’t sure where I was initially. My mind took a few moments to register that the timber-framed earthen walls were familiar. The light was dim, coming from a lone bulb hanging from the timber logs of the ceiling. It was cold here, my breath fogging even as my gifts shielded my bare, wet skin from the chill.
I was below ground, in a bunker my family had built as their last refuge in the event the world came to an end. Not literally of course, but it was a space I had created inside myself some time ago. I had built it as a prison, to contain a part of myself that had repeatedly escaped to do harm to others.
“Why did you save me?” I was finally able to speak. “If I was gone you’d have been free to do as you please.”
The face of my nightmare loomed in front of me. “We still don’t get it, do we?” he sneered. “Everything we have ever done has been to protect us, even when we weren’t willing to protect ourself.” He stood up and tossed me my favorite childhood dress. “Now dry off and get dressed, we won’t do either of us any good if you catch a cold.”
“T-thank you.” I stammered as I began to pull the dress on, it fitting perfectly. I could smell all the comfortable scents I had grown up with on it, the fields, the barn, my mother’s kitchen. These reminders of home, these reminders of identity helped calm me.
There was a smile . . . not the sort of contemptuous smirk I’d grown to expect from him, but a sincere and warm expression. “You’re welcome.” He said softly as he turned and walked deeper into the bunker. “When we’ve caught our breath we’ll start working on a plan to fight our way out of this.”
Hannah
I wasn’t sure where I was initially. My mind took a few moments to register that the timber-framed earthen walls were familiar. The light was dim, coming from a lone bulb hanging from the timber logs of the ceiling. It was cold here, my breath fogging even as my gifts shielded my bare, wet skin from the chill.
I was below ground, in a bunker my family had built as their last refuge in the event the world came to an end. Not literally of course, but it was a space I had created inside myself some time ago. I had built it as a prison, to contain a part of myself that had repeatedly escaped to do harm to others.
“Why did you save me?” I was finally able to speak. “If I was gone you’d have been free to do as you please.”
The face of my nightmare loomed in front of me. “We still don’t get it, do we?” he sneered. “Everything we have ever done has been to protect us, even when we weren’t willing to protect ourself.” He stood up and tossed me my favorite childhood dress. “Now dry off and get dressed, we won’t do either of us any good if you catch a cold.”
“T-thank you.” I stammered as I began to pull the dress on, it fitting perfectly. I could smell all the comfortable scents I had grown up with on it, the fields, the barn, my mother’s kitchen. These reminders of home, these reminders of identity helped calm me.
There was a smile . . . not the sort of contemptuous smirk I’d grown to expect from him, but a sincere and warm expression. “You’re welcome.” He said softly as he turned and walked deeper into the bunker. “When we’ve caught our breath we’ll start working on a plan to fight our way out of this.”
Hannah
I will be who I chose to be.
Re: My Explanation
The next couple of weeks were spent trying to fight my way out of Khavik’s control. Khavik’s plans for me required the use of my memory, my knowledge and even my personality. He needed me to get close to those I was friends with, to get them to act in certain ways and to get them to lower their defenses. This means that there was some of me left near the surface, a part of me I could connect to.
This connection was the first step to taking my body back, but it also meant that I was a first-hand witness to all that Khavik compelled me to do. Not just a witness, but I experienced it totally. When Khavik forced me to call him Father, I heard the words come from my lips. I felt his cold skin on mine as he made me demonstrate my affection for him. When I was sent to carry out his will with others, every word placed there by Khavik came from my lips. Every touch Khavik wanted to happen came from my fingers. His desire was my action and inwardly I recoiled as my body willingly, joyfully sometimes, carried out his work.
The connection also allowed a degree of resistance. When Khavik asked for information about those I cared about, I was able to feed him lies or misdirect him. There were those I was able to avoid mentioning to Khavik at all. Some I tried to warn, or to make statements intended to undermine their trust in me. I even changed my appearance, cutting my hair short and dying it red as a warning flag. I tried to leave secret messages for my friends, imploring them to rescue Clarity before they came for me.
But it wasn’t entirely enough. Some trusted me regardless of how I tried to warn them. Others found the new behaviors from me enjoyable and paid no attention to my signals that things were not as they should be. I won’t describe in detail the ways I victimized these people or say who they are, but I have done my best to tell them I am sorry for my part in the harm visited upon them.
It was one of these harms that finally opened the breach I needed. At Khavik’s direction a death had occurred and I had been sent to the victim’s partner to set her up for further violence. The grieving party took me into their arms and exposed their true heart and soul to me in their grief and sorrow. It was the moment Khavik had sent me for. The terms of affection that would wrap the victim in a web of deceit were about to force them out . . . as much as I cared for this person, I could not let those words come from me for such an evil purpose. So rather than tell them that I truly cared for them as much as they cared for me, I chose to protect them from Khavik and broke their heart.
I hope you understand my unwillingness to share any names in the above paragraph, the person who I am speaking about knows who they are. I will not embarrass them by sharing their moment of grief publically but at the same time I want to share enough of this event so that they know that I am sorry for not returning their emotions and to make them aware that I most certainly do care for them and I regret that circumstances have since forced us to part and to be wary of each other. I hope someday we can repair our friendship.
Hannah
This connection was the first step to taking my body back, but it also meant that I was a first-hand witness to all that Khavik compelled me to do. Not just a witness, but I experienced it totally. When Khavik forced me to call him Father, I heard the words come from my lips. I felt his cold skin on mine as he made me demonstrate my affection for him. When I was sent to carry out his will with others, every word placed there by Khavik came from my lips. Every touch Khavik wanted to happen came from my fingers. His desire was my action and inwardly I recoiled as my body willingly, joyfully sometimes, carried out his work.
The connection also allowed a degree of resistance. When Khavik asked for information about those I cared about, I was able to feed him lies or misdirect him. There were those I was able to avoid mentioning to Khavik at all. Some I tried to warn, or to make statements intended to undermine their trust in me. I even changed my appearance, cutting my hair short and dying it red as a warning flag. I tried to leave secret messages for my friends, imploring them to rescue Clarity before they came for me.
But it wasn’t entirely enough. Some trusted me regardless of how I tried to warn them. Others found the new behaviors from me enjoyable and paid no attention to my signals that things were not as they should be. I won’t describe in detail the ways I victimized these people or say who they are, but I have done my best to tell them I am sorry for my part in the harm visited upon them.
It was one of these harms that finally opened the breach I needed. At Khavik’s direction a death had occurred and I had been sent to the victim’s partner to set her up for further violence. The grieving party took me into their arms and exposed their true heart and soul to me in their grief and sorrow. It was the moment Khavik had sent me for. The terms of affection that would wrap the victim in a web of deceit were about to force them out . . . as much as I cared for this person, I could not let those words come from me for such an evil purpose. So rather than tell them that I truly cared for them as much as they cared for me, I chose to protect them from Khavik and broke their heart.
I hope you understand my unwillingness to share any names in the above paragraph, the person who I am speaking about knows who they are. I will not embarrass them by sharing their moment of grief publically but at the same time I want to share enough of this event so that they know that I am sorry for not returning their emotions and to make them aware that I most certainly do care for them and I regret that circumstances have since forced us to part and to be wary of each other. I hope someday we can repair our friendship.
Hannah
I will be who I chose to be.
Re: My Explanation
This was not a minor disobedience. Instead it was a direct prevention of one of Khavik’s carefully crafted plans. Moreover, I was able to lie to Khavik to conceal what had happened and reported to him that we had been interrupted before the key moment. I had been told before that I was being watched, but I trusted that my friends had been doing their best to interfere with Khavik’s monitoring of me while they searched for Clarity.
If Khavik saw through the deceit he didn’t let on. I’d later hear of the actions being done to keep his attention firmly focused elsewhere. He sent me to try to get the necessary submission from my target again, but the wedge I had forced between me and my victim had been enough to ensure I once again failed in my mission.
Frustrated, Khavik recalled me to his lair while he prepared for the next stage in his plan. Mr. Lupus had thankfully already met his end, but Khavik satisfied his need to punish me by sending me to inflict tortures on poor, innocent Clarity. But again I was able to thwart him, not just disobeying him with words, I disobeyed him with deeds. The sharp implements in Clarity’s cell dug into my flesh instead of hers, an action that still prompted shrill screams from the little blonde.
The pain I inflicted upon myself served a second purpose. I had noticed that pain reached deeper into my awareness than the other sensations I was experiencing, bringing the submerged part of myself closer to the surface with every incision.
It was when I found myself just below the surface that I was able to force myself to search through the lair Khavik inhabited. Mr. Lupus was gone now and his other henchmen were often out so while Khavik slept I had free run of the place. I didn’t know what I was looking for exactly; I was just hoping there would be something, anything that could help me.
I found it in Clarity’s cell. In the pile of belongings that she had been wearing when we had been taken I found a small metallic object. As soon as it was in my hand I felt comforted, soothed and relaxed. It was a small silver cross my mother had worn for many years. She had been wearing it the night she died. My father had taken it from her body and given it to me before we had fled our house that night. I had worn it from then until the day I gave it to Clarity for safekeeping and as a token of our sisterhood.
I sat on the cold floor and stared at the cross for several minutes before I realized something had changed. I no longer felt any compulsion or command. The flood of Khavik’s will had withdrawn. I was free again; free to do as I chose.
But still I was a prisoner. Clarity and I were still held here and until I found a way to get Clarity out I had to stay and do my best to protect her. This meant that I would have to follow Khavik’s orders in the meantime.
Steeling my will to do what had to be done, I hid the cross where I could retrieve it when I needed and returned to where Khavik had told me to wait.
Hannah
If Khavik saw through the deceit he didn’t let on. I’d later hear of the actions being done to keep his attention firmly focused elsewhere. He sent me to try to get the necessary submission from my target again, but the wedge I had forced between me and my victim had been enough to ensure I once again failed in my mission.
Frustrated, Khavik recalled me to his lair while he prepared for the next stage in his plan. Mr. Lupus had thankfully already met his end, but Khavik satisfied his need to punish me by sending me to inflict tortures on poor, innocent Clarity. But again I was able to thwart him, not just disobeying him with words, I disobeyed him with deeds. The sharp implements in Clarity’s cell dug into my flesh instead of hers, an action that still prompted shrill screams from the little blonde.
The pain I inflicted upon myself served a second purpose. I had noticed that pain reached deeper into my awareness than the other sensations I was experiencing, bringing the submerged part of myself closer to the surface with every incision.
It was when I found myself just below the surface that I was able to force myself to search through the lair Khavik inhabited. Mr. Lupus was gone now and his other henchmen were often out so while Khavik slept I had free run of the place. I didn’t know what I was looking for exactly; I was just hoping there would be something, anything that could help me.
I found it in Clarity’s cell. In the pile of belongings that she had been wearing when we had been taken I found a small metallic object. As soon as it was in my hand I felt comforted, soothed and relaxed. It was a small silver cross my mother had worn for many years. She had been wearing it the night she died. My father had taken it from her body and given it to me before we had fled our house that night. I had worn it from then until the day I gave it to Clarity for safekeeping and as a token of our sisterhood.
I sat on the cold floor and stared at the cross for several minutes before I realized something had changed. I no longer felt any compulsion or command. The flood of Khavik’s will had withdrawn. I was free again; free to do as I chose.
But still I was a prisoner. Clarity and I were still held here and until I found a way to get Clarity out I had to stay and do my best to protect her. This meant that I would have to follow Khavik’s orders in the meantime.
Steeling my will to do what had to be done, I hid the cross where I could retrieve it when I needed and returned to where Khavik had told me to wait.
Hannah
I will be who I chose to be.
Re: My Explanation
The opportunity came a couple of days later, when a familiar but unexpected face made its way into the lair.
When Cynthia arrived I did not know what to think. Was I to believe her tale of service to a dark power or did I dare to hope that my step-sister was here for a much brighter purpose?
Fortunately Khavik was searching for allies at that point and time and decided to be hospitable. That hospitality included me serving as Cynthia’s guide. I can only assume Khavik was either totally blind to my freedom of will at this point or was totally aware of it and toying with me. No matter the situation, I had no choice but to take the chance.
Clarity had not handled captivity well. The abuses our captors had heaped upon her made it even worse. There was some event planned for her on the coming New Moon, only a few days away. I may have never had a chance to liberate her before then.
So I took the chance and revealed my deception to Cynthia. Cynthia, thankfully, revealed hers to me as well and we shared a brief but joyful reunion.
I retrieved the cross I’d hidden away and promised a distraction for my sisters. I told them when they heard it to start running. I would catch up as soon as I could. Then, taking a jagged blade, I cut a slice into my arm. As usual, Clarity screamed at this, her voice sounding as if the cut had been into her flesh. I filled my mouth with my own blood much to Cynthia’s puzzlement, and returned to Khavik’s throne room.
One of the abuses that Khavik had made me perform upon Clarity in the past was to collect a mouthful of her blood and then, like a mother bird with her chicks, feed it to him by dribbling it from my mouth to his. He intended the act to be romantic and sensual. I had wished my body had responded to my strong desire to vomit every time he had asked me for it.
There was a smile on his face when he noticed a few red droplets clinging to my lips to advertise the gift I held in my mouth. My collecting such a tithe voluntarily was a first; he had always commanded me to bring it to him before. I approached him with a swing in my hips and a smile on my face. I wanted him to feel like he had finally broken me down, like I had come around to him and now loved him the way he had commanded me to.
He embraced me as I straddled his lap and positioned my mouth above his. His cold, dead tongue sampled the droplets from my lips and a profound look of ecstasy crossed his face. Our lips met and slowly began to part, a small dribble of the red liquid falling onto his tongue.
I stopped and pulled back, making a teasing sound in my throat. With a smile he murmured his dark versions of endearment at me. He called me his perfect whore and his beloved daughter in the same breath. I smiled at him, forcing my face to show lust instead of repulsion before I bent my lips towards his again.
This time he opened wide, just as I had hoped he would. I released the blood from my mouth straight down the back of his throat. Along with the blood, I also released the small silver cross I had hidden under my tongue.
I was looking him in the eyes the moment he felt my mother’s cross inside his throat. I will not deny enjoying watching his face as he transitioned from ecstasy, to confusion and then agony. I will however, proudly proclaim my happiness at spraying a mouthful of blood and spit into his face at that very moment.
He howled in rage and pain as the cross burned its way down through his body like a lump of molten lead. I would have preferred to have stayed and gloated to him how I had beaten him and how I had fooled him. But I knew full well that he was not beaten yet, especially as his screams would soon bring his henchmen.
Instead I grabbed the small sack he always carried with him from his belt and ran for where I hoped to meet Clarity and Cynthia. Together we managed to escape the lair and found our way into the waiting arms of friends and family who had been searching for us.
Finally, after more than two weeks of captivity and abuse, two weeks as a prisoner in my own body, two weeks as the personal amusement and food supply to a vampire, two weeks of things I cannot even begin to relate, I was free.
I watched my father collect Clarity before allowing the ordeal to finally overwhelm my endurance and I fell fast asleep in Matt’s arms.
Hannah
When Cynthia arrived I did not know what to think. Was I to believe her tale of service to a dark power or did I dare to hope that my step-sister was here for a much brighter purpose?
Fortunately Khavik was searching for allies at that point and time and decided to be hospitable. That hospitality included me serving as Cynthia’s guide. I can only assume Khavik was either totally blind to my freedom of will at this point or was totally aware of it and toying with me. No matter the situation, I had no choice but to take the chance.
Clarity had not handled captivity well. The abuses our captors had heaped upon her made it even worse. There was some event planned for her on the coming New Moon, only a few days away. I may have never had a chance to liberate her before then.
So I took the chance and revealed my deception to Cynthia. Cynthia, thankfully, revealed hers to me as well and we shared a brief but joyful reunion.
I retrieved the cross I’d hidden away and promised a distraction for my sisters. I told them when they heard it to start running. I would catch up as soon as I could. Then, taking a jagged blade, I cut a slice into my arm. As usual, Clarity screamed at this, her voice sounding as if the cut had been into her flesh. I filled my mouth with my own blood much to Cynthia’s puzzlement, and returned to Khavik’s throne room.
One of the abuses that Khavik had made me perform upon Clarity in the past was to collect a mouthful of her blood and then, like a mother bird with her chicks, feed it to him by dribbling it from my mouth to his. He intended the act to be romantic and sensual. I had wished my body had responded to my strong desire to vomit every time he had asked me for it.
There was a smile on his face when he noticed a few red droplets clinging to my lips to advertise the gift I held in my mouth. My collecting such a tithe voluntarily was a first; he had always commanded me to bring it to him before. I approached him with a swing in my hips and a smile on my face. I wanted him to feel like he had finally broken me down, like I had come around to him and now loved him the way he had commanded me to.
He embraced me as I straddled his lap and positioned my mouth above his. His cold, dead tongue sampled the droplets from my lips and a profound look of ecstasy crossed his face. Our lips met and slowly began to part, a small dribble of the red liquid falling onto his tongue.
I stopped and pulled back, making a teasing sound in my throat. With a smile he murmured his dark versions of endearment at me. He called me his perfect whore and his beloved daughter in the same breath. I smiled at him, forcing my face to show lust instead of repulsion before I bent my lips towards his again.
This time he opened wide, just as I had hoped he would. I released the blood from my mouth straight down the back of his throat. Along with the blood, I also released the small silver cross I had hidden under my tongue.
I was looking him in the eyes the moment he felt my mother’s cross inside his throat. I will not deny enjoying watching his face as he transitioned from ecstasy, to confusion and then agony. I will however, proudly proclaim my happiness at spraying a mouthful of blood and spit into his face at that very moment.
He howled in rage and pain as the cross burned its way down through his body like a lump of molten lead. I would have preferred to have stayed and gloated to him how I had beaten him and how I had fooled him. But I knew full well that he was not beaten yet, especially as his screams would soon bring his henchmen.
Instead I grabbed the small sack he always carried with him from his belt and ran for where I hoped to meet Clarity and Cynthia. Together we managed to escape the lair and found our way into the waiting arms of friends and family who had been searching for us.
Finally, after more than two weeks of captivity and abuse, two weeks as a prisoner in my own body, two weeks as the personal amusement and food supply to a vampire, two weeks of things I cannot even begin to relate, I was free.
I watched my father collect Clarity before allowing the ordeal to finally overwhelm my endurance and I fell fast asleep in Matt’s arms.
Hannah
I will be who I chose to be.
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Cybermancer
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Re: My Explanation
There is more to this story than just what Hannah witnessed of course. In fact it started quite a while back. As far back as March in fact, when I started to investigate Khavik for myself. I knew it was only a matter of time before he would come for her again and I wanted to be prepared. Actually, I wanted to eliminate the threat before it became a problem again but I was to be frustrated in my plans.
The first stage of my plan was to gather intelligence on the creature. It was frustratingly difficult at first. But in a way, this was a good sign. The world is a still lake and we all cause ripples by our interactions. We also cause ripples by the influence we wield. One who is powerful and with a lot of connections cannot easily hide from those determined to find them. They leave evidence of their passing and of influence exerted. This meant that for starters, Khavik's resources were quite finite. It also meant that he wasn't using them actively at the moment.
This minute progress was eventually helped along when I made contact with an individual who had in their possession quite a bit of information about Khavik's resources and activities. It was fresh intelligence but a lot of it had an expirary date. So we had to act quickly to take advantage of it.
We also had to be careful in our movements lest we forced the fiend to ground or into more active hiding. Likewise we had to guard this information jealously. It could not be shared even with our closest friends, operatives or family. Only what information pertaining to any specific mission or assignment could be shared in case those involved were compromised.
Fortunately I have been hunting the supernatural for nearly two decades and have been involved with it in some form or another for as long as I can remember. In that time I have literally travelled the world helping people and establishing connections. Connections I have maintained as I helped build the detective agency that is my families business and cover for operations. So when Khavik's network came under attack, it was from a wide range of people with no discernable link with each other.
As tempting as it was to go after Khavik directly, it was vital that we hit this support network first. Always in the past he has managed to escape whenever cornered. This time, there would be no escape.
Perhaps as we started to close the noose on his operations in North America, he started to feel the pinch. Maybe that prompted him to act against Hannah and Clarity. But I do not think this is the case. Nor do I think he knew what we were really up to at this time. He certainly didn't know my own involvement in it. Otherwise we would have had much less warning that he was active.
It was when we recieved this warning that I floated the idea of moving Hannah out of his reach. She wouldn't have it. She said there was no way she could be kept out of reach long enough. I of course didn't agree but she is her own person and free to make her own decisions. Since she wasn't going to allow me to ensure her safety as I would have liked, I started planning for the worst case scenerio, her capture by Khavik.
I'm not going to detail here all that was done. Our enemies read these boards and do not need to know all the resources at my disposal. Suffice it to say that Khavik was to be denied an opportunity to use Hannah against us as much as possible. He would also be denied a chance to interfere with critical operations regarding the cult in Mexico and of course the Foundation. As personal as Khavik has managed to make things with people on this board, those operations were far more important than dealing with him.
Unfortunately, his decision to become active again, regardless of his reasoning behind it, forced me to move the time tables of several of my plans up. Parlty I hoped that increasing the pressure on his support network might force him to back off his other projects. A sane opponent would have withdrawn and consildated.
Of course he was not sane. So he went after Hannah when she was away from where I could directly protect her. The agents assigned to watch her were unprepared for the powers utilized (but will be next time).
It was a nasty surprise to me that he was also after Clarity. As an additional sucker punch his choice of allies had not even been on the radar at the time. He could still pull a few surprises.
But so could I.
Khavik had quite a number of minions that I did know about. Less than six hours after Hannah was taken, their families were in my custody and their service was reluctantly mine. It was through that service that Khavik's leutenant was eliminated. They also assisted in providing us information on Hannah's activities. Though I think Khavik came to suspect them as occasionally key information was denied to me.
Likely the biggest surprise for Khavik was that we did not sound the drums of war and call everyone in to go looking for Hannah. We did not abandon what we were doing. This is only partly because we did not yet know where Clarity was. Mostly it was because the best strategy for dealing with Khavik was the same one as it was before he took Hannah. Destroying his support base and leaving him with no where to go when we finally were ready to destroy him.
When the time was right, Cynthia volunteered to go and get Hannah and Clarity out. Thankfully when they left, they brought Khavik's native soil with him.
The last soil from his grave that we had not already tainted against him.
While I was there, I wasn't the one who ultimately destroyed Khavik. So I won't be stealing their thunder or glory or whatever they wish to percieve it as.
I will say this though. Khavik is destroyed beyond all chance of ever coming back.
The first stage of my plan was to gather intelligence on the creature. It was frustratingly difficult at first. But in a way, this was a good sign. The world is a still lake and we all cause ripples by our interactions. We also cause ripples by the influence we wield. One who is powerful and with a lot of connections cannot easily hide from those determined to find them. They leave evidence of their passing and of influence exerted. This meant that for starters, Khavik's resources were quite finite. It also meant that he wasn't using them actively at the moment.
This minute progress was eventually helped along when I made contact with an individual who had in their possession quite a bit of information about Khavik's resources and activities. It was fresh intelligence but a lot of it had an expirary date. So we had to act quickly to take advantage of it.
We also had to be careful in our movements lest we forced the fiend to ground or into more active hiding. Likewise we had to guard this information jealously. It could not be shared even with our closest friends, operatives or family. Only what information pertaining to any specific mission or assignment could be shared in case those involved were compromised.
Fortunately I have been hunting the supernatural for nearly two decades and have been involved with it in some form or another for as long as I can remember. In that time I have literally travelled the world helping people and establishing connections. Connections I have maintained as I helped build the detective agency that is my families business and cover for operations. So when Khavik's network came under attack, it was from a wide range of people with no discernable link with each other.
As tempting as it was to go after Khavik directly, it was vital that we hit this support network first. Always in the past he has managed to escape whenever cornered. This time, there would be no escape.
Perhaps as we started to close the noose on his operations in North America, he started to feel the pinch. Maybe that prompted him to act against Hannah and Clarity. But I do not think this is the case. Nor do I think he knew what we were really up to at this time. He certainly didn't know my own involvement in it. Otherwise we would have had much less warning that he was active.
It was when we recieved this warning that I floated the idea of moving Hannah out of his reach. She wouldn't have it. She said there was no way she could be kept out of reach long enough. I of course didn't agree but she is her own person and free to make her own decisions. Since she wasn't going to allow me to ensure her safety as I would have liked, I started planning for the worst case scenerio, her capture by Khavik.
I'm not going to detail here all that was done. Our enemies read these boards and do not need to know all the resources at my disposal. Suffice it to say that Khavik was to be denied an opportunity to use Hannah against us as much as possible. He would also be denied a chance to interfere with critical operations regarding the cult in Mexico and of course the Foundation. As personal as Khavik has managed to make things with people on this board, those operations were far more important than dealing with him.
Unfortunately, his decision to become active again, regardless of his reasoning behind it, forced me to move the time tables of several of my plans up. Parlty I hoped that increasing the pressure on his support network might force him to back off his other projects. A sane opponent would have withdrawn and consildated.
Of course he was not sane. So he went after Hannah when she was away from where I could directly protect her. The agents assigned to watch her were unprepared for the powers utilized (but will be next time).
It was a nasty surprise to me that he was also after Clarity. As an additional sucker punch his choice of allies had not even been on the radar at the time. He could still pull a few surprises.
But so could I.
Khavik had quite a number of minions that I did know about. Less than six hours after Hannah was taken, their families were in my custody and their service was reluctantly mine. It was through that service that Khavik's leutenant was eliminated. They also assisted in providing us information on Hannah's activities. Though I think Khavik came to suspect them as occasionally key information was denied to me.
Likely the biggest surprise for Khavik was that we did not sound the drums of war and call everyone in to go looking for Hannah. We did not abandon what we were doing. This is only partly because we did not yet know where Clarity was. Mostly it was because the best strategy for dealing with Khavik was the same one as it was before he took Hannah. Destroying his support base and leaving him with no where to go when we finally were ready to destroy him.
When the time was right, Cynthia volunteered to go and get Hannah and Clarity out. Thankfully when they left, they brought Khavik's native soil with him.
The last soil from his grave that we had not already tainted against him.
While I was there, I wasn't the one who ultimately destroyed Khavik. So I won't be stealing their thunder or glory or whatever they wish to percieve it as.
I will say this though. Khavik is destroyed beyond all chance of ever coming back.
This account used to belong to someone else. Now it's mine. My first post on this board begins here.
"The strong polish their fangs,
While the weak polish their wisdom."
"The strong polish their fangs,
While the weak polish their wisdom."
Re: My Explanation
I want to add to Matt's account, if it seems cold that he left me with Khavik when he knew where I was. Well yes, it was cold.
But it was also exactly what I asked of him to do. I was willing to stay in Khavik's possession if it would lead to Khavik's destruction and I had made Matt well aware of this fact.
I know how hard it was for him to leave me there and despite all that I endured I definitely love him for respecting my wishes.
So if anyone is angry about how long it took to get me . . . that buck stops here.
Hannah
PS: The last pure soil was what I grabbed form Khavik when I fled.
But it was also exactly what I asked of him to do. I was willing to stay in Khavik's possession if it would lead to Khavik's destruction and I had made Matt well aware of this fact.
I know how hard it was for him to leave me there and despite all that I endured I definitely love him for respecting my wishes.
So if anyone is angry about how long it took to get me . . . that buck stops here.
Hannah
PS: The last pure soil was what I grabbed form Khavik when I fled.
I will be who I chose to be.
