Many thanks to @newbornwhumperfly for being so generous in letting me put their boy Morja in Situations. Thank you for helping me dream up this terrible situation for your boy <3
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Morja is a diathésimos, one of a class of indentured servants owned by society’s elite - though some would call them slaves. He has been tasked with a mission of critical importance by his anóteros: to infiltrate a dangerous family that has taken refuge in the north, and kill the criminal that they are harboring: Gavin Stormbeck.
“And the LORD God said unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed... upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life...”
— Genesis 3:14, KJV
Your Part to Kill | My Part to Die | To Die Quietly | Despair | Dawn | Breakfast Part 1 | Breakfast Part 2 | To Die Without Flinching | Relief | Another Way to Be | Extended Magazine | Dust | Tire Iron | Cigarette Lighter
Contents: recapture, interrogation, tortured for information, burning, cigarette lighter, broken bones, manhandling, arm twisting, old injuries, self-blame, false confession, tire iron
~
Morja choked back a scream. The cigarette lighter singed the flesh between his shoulder blades, and he could smell it burning. The cuffs dug into his wrists as his entire body went rigid. Jorah pulled the red-hot circle away before it had cooled.
“Did you conspire with Gray Uriah’s team prior to the start of your mission?” Jorah said, and pressed the lighter over his right shoulder blade.
The shock of it swept through him, and he cried out. He… he couldn’t help it. His leg was throbbing with each frantic beat of his heart. He could feel the bones grind together each time he moved. The lighter sparked terror under his skin. When Jorah pulled it away, Morja could not stop himself from struggling.
Jorah straddled Morja’s hips. “Jesus Christ, all your training out the fucking window with a little application of pain,” he spat, and pressed the lighter over Morja’s spine at the base of his neck.
Morja gasped against the dirt. “I’m s-sorry, anó–” He whimpered and jerked as the lighter burned him again.
“Fucking… hold still,” Jorah ordered, and twisted Morja’s left arm up his back.
Morja’s left shoulder exploded in pain. The old injury ripped through him like the bullet was finding purchase all over again.
It had been his mistake.
His failure.
He did not realize he had screamed until he felt Jorah go perfectly still over him.
“Now, what the fuck was that, asset?” Jorah seethed.
Morja sobbed weakly. “I d-did not mean–”
His arm twisted harder, and the scream was torn from him before he could clamp his teeth down on it. His shoulder was going to tear from his socket. It felt like the torn-and-healed flesh and sinew and bone was tearing open all over again.
“What happened here?” Jorah murmured, and Morja felt a calloused finger trace the scar that ran across his left shoulder, across his shoulder blade. “This definitely wasn’t from a whip, huh? This looks like it was from… negligence.”
Morja’s body was tense as a bowstring beneath Jorah. He could feel the heat of the cigarette lighter in Jorah’s hand, hovering over the scar. Dust puffed up from the ground below him with each ragged breath. He pressed his lips together and lowered his face until it rested against the ground.
Negligence.
“It was,” he rasped. “F-from negligence.” He could not take a full breath. His shoulder would wrench itself apart. Between the pain in his shoulder and his leg, his mind was going to shake apart.
Jorah’s iron grip tightened further on his wrist. Morja’s right arm was dragged up his back, too, from how far his left arm was twisted. More sweat bloomed on his forehead.
“No wonder you got caught,” Jorah mused, the words beating down on him alongside the sun. “You’re not in peak condition. Haven’t been for months, looks like. Or years. You really are just a malfunctioning piece of equipment. You’re not worth the cost of your own upkeep, are you?”
The lighter pressed over the scar on his shoulder. His throat went raw from the strain of holding back his scream.
Jorah scoffed and dropped the lighter to the ground beside Morja’s head. “Fucker isn’t even hot anymore,” he sneered. With one hand, he twisted Morja’s shoulder further. With the other, he seized Morja’s hair and ground his face into the dirt.
“Did. You. Conspire. With. Gray. Uriah. Prior. To. Your. Mission.”
He twisted again. Something in Morja’s shoulder gave way. Cold sweat poured down his spine, and he sobbed into the dirt.
Jorah sighed. “I need to heat this up again. Christ, you’re pathetic.” As abruptly as he had twisted Morja’s arm, he released it and got to his feet.
Morja wailed his relief. He strained his arms as far as he could with them still locked behind him, shuddering with shock. He did not lift his head. Something in his shoulder felt loose and hot. He could not move, for fear of jostling his leg again.
Useless.
He heard the scrape as Jorah approached again, felt the cold press of the tire iron against his torn and throbbing shoulder.
“Last chance, asset,” came the cold voice above him.
“I-I did,” he sobbed, before he could stop himself. He collapsed into sobs. “No, anóteros, no, I… I did not mean–”
Another sigh. The tire iron pressed against the back of his skull, forcing his face into the dust. “Another story change. Got it. Whatever. Last question for you: what is the best way to neutralize Isaac Moore before I go in and finish the mission that you failed?”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Sylus- The In-Laws are Obsessed With Me (well...just look at the covers and you'll understand everything. Aesthetic 🤌, FL and ML ❤️🔥) + also the plot and dynamic 🔥
The Ryan Ferguson case is one of the clearest examples of how multiple systemic failures can stack on top of each other until an innocent person has no way out.
In 2001, Kent Heitholt was murdered outside of his workplace. For two years, the case was unsolved.
Then police got a tip and after hours of interrogation, Charles Erickson confessed and implicated his friend, Ryan Ferguson.
Ferguson denied everything, and would continue to do so for nine years.
In 2013, Ferguson's conviction was overturned and he was released from prison.
Unfortunately, Kent Heitholt's murder remains unsolved.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
