#daero

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Even at his strongest, Daero would have no chance breaking free of the tight strap that keep him on the concrete-slab-turned-table. It is cold and rough against his bare back; the whole room is similarly made of cold stone, dark but for candles along the walls. Cloaked men stand around, muttering prayers under their breath - words in a language Daero does not recognize, but a few words stand out as curses and insults they have hurled at him during his capitivity.

He has been here longer than he can comprehend, has suffered in ways he never knew possible, and has been permitted to heal in between so the work can continue. They are trying to see if they can 'cleanse' him, purge the demonic from him. They do not understand that what he is is etched into his bones and runs through his veins. There is no separating him from the demonic, it is him, and all their attempts only break him.

As they tied him down, Daero glimpsed a vat of water, and already knows what's coming, or so he thinks. Aside from meager sips from time to time the only water he is ever given is what the humans call 'holy' water, which to a demon may as well be acid. Daero is already quivering with dread at the thought. Holy water hurts enough on its own, but on top of it he is sore all over from the previous night of 'ritual flagellation'.

The vat of holy water is tied up above him, making Daero flinch away, believing they will dump it on him all at once. But something is different this time. There is a cover over the opening, and when they turn it upside down and fix it into place, nothing comes out...at first.

After a long, terrible moment of anticipation, a single drop falls from above and hits Daero's chest with a sizzling sound. He gasps at the pinprick of pain on his beaten-raw skin, but it is gone quickly and he sighs with relief.

That relief is short-lived when a second drop hits his leg, making him jump. A moment later another hits his cheek, then another his other leg. As the humans leave Daero realizes with a sick feeling that they intend for this to last a while. Perhaps until all the holy water is gone, which at this rate, could take hours or even days.

Daero keens softly and closes his eyes. There's no point watching the drops fall when he can't stop them anyway, and there is no pattern to when or where a drop will hit, so he can't prepare himself. He simply tries to breathe through it. At first he succeeds in keeping calm aside from a little flinch or gasp any time a drop lands. At first he allows himself to believe it might not be too bad.

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One hour later...

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Although there is no pattern to the dripping water, it hits some spots more than others. Daero soon finds that worse than the sting of holy water alone is the searing of holy water landing on existing burns, each additional droplet corroding his fragile skin with that horrible sizzling sound.

He starts to vocalize his pain in little whimpers and pleas that no one can hear. As the pain grows worse, as the burns deepen, his whimpers turn to cries and then shouts. He struggles uselessly against the restraints and tries to tuck his tail away so that it at least might be spared the fate the rest of his body won't escape.

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12 hours later

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Daero's skin hisses and crackles like it's frying. Holy water has pooled in the wounds it created, leaving no more reprieve between the drops of water that still fall at odd intervals. His breathing is strained and laced with whimpers and sobs.

Most of the candles have burned out, and so he suffers in the dark. No one has checked in on him, and so he suffers alone. Daero trembles in the restraints, which have remained just as tight despite those first few hours of thrashing before he grew too weak to move.

He can still cry, though. He cries all through the night, and when it is too much to bear, when he finally passes out, he dreams awful dreams of being dissolved away into nothing.

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A week later and it still doesn't feel real.

The two humans tell Daero that he is safe and sound. That there will continue to be food and water, that their hands won't strike him. Their touches are soft, their voices quiet. They smell like citrus and cinnamon.

But still Daero flinches when either one enters the room. He still expects to wake in that damp dungeon, chained, beaten and starved.

Nightmares plague him, disrupting his much needed rest. On the worst nights, like tonight, his cries wake the humans and they are quickly by his side.

He is just awake enough to hear and feel them. One soothes him with kind words while wiping his tears away. The other holds a spoonful of pain medicine to his lips until he drinks. Then they sit on either side of him and wait.

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Every time the humans enter his cold, dark cell, Daero wonders...what more can they possibly do?

He has been whipped, beaten, burned, bound, starved, poisoned, taunted, shoved, dragged, drowned, left outside in scorching heat and bitter cold and pouring rain, tormented and defiled in ways he never could have imagined. Every bone in his body has been broken at least once, some many times. It feels like an eternity since he last slept anywhere but a hard floor or table, when he is allowed to lie down at all.

Daero forgets what it is not to hurt. And his soul is as battered as his body, any hope of freedom long gone, his sleep plagued with nightmares of the things he endures when awake. Death calls to him, that endless sleep, the only escape left to him. But his body and his life are not his own here, and he is denied reprieve again and again.

"Please...just kill me..." he often begs, voice a hoarse whisper, tears trickling from his bloodshot eyes. "Please...I can't take anymore..."

The answer, when he is given one, is more or less the same:

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"GET HIM!"

No...no...

Daero bursts through the tree line, running as fast as his burning lungs will allow. It took weeks in hiding to finally heal and if they catch him now it will be so much worse -

NO. I won't go back there!

The ledge comes up too quickly.

Daero can't possibly stop in time but he still tries, staggering on the rocky surface, tearing up the soles of his feet. He squeezes his eyes shut as he topples heavily over the edge.

The human voices fade away, all sound is gone but the rush of wind.

He braces for a long fall and a swift impact. It is a horrible surprise when, only seconds after falling, he crashes against a lower ledge. His shoulder erupts with pain and Daero tumbles in the air, his cry stolen from his lungs.

Daero collides with several more juts and ridges of the uneven cliffside on his way down. Then he reaches the trees, plummeting through thick pine branches that tear up his skin and just barely slow his fall. Birds squawk and scatter around him.

He lands with a thwump on the forest floor.