Unedited 

July 9th

The mind sways beneath the pressure. 

The eyes fade and blind itself to the pain. 

The flesh absorbs the cruelty, 

as it is rained down with an iron fist. 

The soul calls out to the heaven,

begging for mercy, begging for a reprieve. 

Mangled cries escape the being, 

flapped into the air, 

bounced off of the walls. 

But no one came, no one responded to the pleas for a hero. 

Are they any heroes? 

Who will save her from this hell? 

She heaved,  her pain seeped from her lips, slid down her cheek, soiled her pristine collar. 

Her fingers dug into the fur of the carpet, body twisted at an awkward angle, crying out from the simplest of contact. 

How dare she? 

A girl, how dare his Padrona bring forth a female child before a male? Does she not know how worthless a girl is to his family?

His anger sang its curses through his fist. It grinned with satisfaction as she moaned in agony. 

She no longer screamed, begged, pleaded. She was growing numb, immune and soon she will come to know nothing but the sweet caress of pain. 

Her blood titillated him, caressed the wildest parts of him. The beast, as some would call it. 

He wanted her to bleed, to hurt, to feel. He wanted her to die, to suffocate on her own breathe, on his reign. 

She was too perfect, too willing. Too difficult to break, easy to bend.

With a blow so fierce the heavens wept, he left her, sprawled on the carpet, swimming in a crimson pool of pain.