Kneeling in the dirt, a flour sack over her face, hands bound tight behind her back with a rusted chain that bit into her skin making her arms burn.

"Why have you brought another meat bag?" A man asked from the far side of the den.

The echo bounced off her ear drums, the den went deep, it was cold. Of course the world was cold when something plucks you from your bed in nothing more than a Texans football jersey and a pair of Disney sleep shorts that could barely reach mid thigh. What and whoever these men were, they used a term that made her veins turn to ice.

"She smelled nice, thought we'd gi'e it anotta go." One said from behind her, "She is big, but easy to look at. Make fer sturdy sons."

Fear held her heart in a vise grip, promising to shatter if she so much as moved. She had remembered reading the newspapers' headlines about the 10 women raped and murdered, torn to shreds by animals. Tears threatened to fall down her face, the only survivor claimed the beasts called her a Meat Bag, as if she meant nothing.

The girl committed suicide 2 days after she'd been found.

Suddenly the sack was torn from her head and a few strands of hair with it. A mess of green and blue hair flew over her face, glassy eyes fighting to find focus. Since she had been in bed, her glasses had been destroyed in the struggle. If she made it out alive, she had spares. She could barely make out faces, the dark didn't help her case nor did her blurred vision. Heavy feet glided across the dirt floor and soon she felt a large presence in front of her.

"Let me look at this Meat Bag." He growled and held her chin tight in his hand.

Glassy blue eyes met dark, empty, soulless black eyes. He was studying her face, waiting for her to cry, to beg for her life, that he take mercy on her and she would do as he pleased. Her father would roll over in his grave if she begged her abductors for mercy. But there was one thing he would puff his chest out in pride with.

Slamming her forehead into the bridge of his nose and sending him back into the dirt, she spat blood into the dirt.

"Drop dead wannabe." She snarled as fear crept into her chest and sat like a 20 ton boulder, promising to make her sink.

"Take the Bag to the racks. I'll make her beg!" He ordered holding his gushing nose.

She was jerked to her feet. Never go quietly. Make them HEAR you. And she did just that.

"Fucking pussies! Can't take on a 5 foot fat bitch without her being chained down?! Fuck you little bitch!" She screamed all the way through the den.

In the coming days, she repeated her insults. Each swing of the bats, their fists, burning red iron poles pressed against her skin. After three weeks her throat was raw, her body broken, her mind in the set that she would die hanging in this dim room. Being beat again and again until she succumbed, some days she could hear her father telling her it would be ok to buckle. She could fall and let her body quit, she wanted to. Gods did she want to quit, to drop to the floor and hang her lifeless body from the rusted chains that had caused her pain but in truth the chains had been the only thing keeping her up. At least the bastards had taken mercy on her jersey, her undershirt, not so much.

Struggling to fill her lungs, she felt her ribs rub together. They had broken three days into her beatings.

"Eye for an eye, Bag." He had whispered when he cracked her in the ribs like she had broken his nose.

Flashing a red smile whenever she saw his bruised face and crooked nose.

"I...I may be a bag...but this bag made you bleed." She laughed, struggling to breathe.

Her shoulders were dislocated since his goons had pulled her arms up from behind and chained her a hearty foot from the floor causing her weight to pull her down. Her arms were numb, but she could still feel her right arm had a severe break. Closing her eyes, she went to a quiet place, where she could see her parents and feel their love.


"You're sure you heard someone? Im not getting anything." A man in a white dress shirt and slacks said to his partner jumping down from a high cliff to the grove of trees below.

"Markus i know what i heard, i know what i feel. The connect is getting weak, but i know what i feel. I'd trust your word." Another man in a pair of dark jeans and a blue hoodie said, he looked as though he hadnt slept in months. Both had their long hair tied back out of their face.

Releasing a deep sigh, Markus pulled out his phone to do a check in.

"Nothing." Sorin answered.

"Clear in the north." Iverson responded.

Silence.

"Czech, do you copy from the mines?" Markus asked again when the silence carried.

Click. Click.

Dense shadows flew through the tree grove and over the forest floor to the abandon coal mines deep in the forest. Only where the damned dwell. Four men reformed to their solid states to greet man who was still transparent against an old oak. Markus placed his hand on the tree to see what his brother saw.

"I see a human female." He was brief so as not to drain his brother, but he saw enough to know the worse.

Looking to Aramis, the sorrow was evident in his eyes.

"She's fading, isn't she?" Aramis asked as a fire built inside him.

Markus looked to the Mine's entrance and could see the memories held within the earth.

Before anyone could act a piercing black shadow beast went running towards the entrance. The others followed suit and were close behind. Aramis leading the pack, trying to grasp the connection he felt to the human woman who had been kept here. Taking out each shade that came out at the sound of them. They had no time to fade to the shadows before the brothers sank their teeth into the flesh, black ooze gushing from the bodies as Aramis felt her light begin to fade.

Taking his human form he found a young girl, her head slumped down, damp green hair covering her face. Her body covered in a mass of bruises, welts, and cuts.

"M'aingeal?" He whispered as he stepped closer and saw the the dirt glisten with her blood.

Gently, he touched her swollen, bruised cheek. She groaned and tried to pull away, her attempt to spit failed with a long line of blood dripping to the floor. Mumbling a profanity.

"I'm here to save you." He whispered, but when he went to lift her she cried out.

Pain and anger sliced through him, snatching the thick jersey he could only assume was hers and pulling off his sweatshirt so as to not cause anymore pain and discomfort to her as he was about to. Holding her broken body, Aramis could feel her warm tears seeping through his shirt as he slowly walked from the chamber, setting it ablaze with a simple, silent command.

His brothers were waiting at the entrance when Aramis walked out of the dark holding a woman opening Death's door.

"Is she?" Iverson asked stepping forward.

Aramis hid her battered face with the hood of his jacket, no one needed to see her cry.

"She's alive, we need to take her to Kalliste, she can heal her." Aramis answered, referring to an immortal healer he knew could help his human. He wasnt even sure of her name.



Layn's shoulder's burned like the fires of hell. She was free, her body was so tired, the mountain that pulled her off the wall held her so tender. She felt embarrassed that she allowed tears to fall once he held her close. He smelled like sandelwood and rain; her two favorite smells. He felt safe, she shouldnt have a safe feeling considering what she has been through.

More voices surrounded her, they kept asking him to change, that shed be safe melded with his shadow.

"I said no, Sorin! I dont want to put her body through that kind of stress." The man holding her snarled at Sorin?

He pressed his forehead to the top of hers in order to comfort her in some way. Her throat was so very raw, the idea of talking made her burn. He only said she was alive, tired, never once did he say she was too weak. Soon the silence of the forest was replaced with soft music. A harp? A piano?? It was peaceful. Layn slipped into unconsciousness, Aramis froze when her body went limp in his arms.

Aramis jolted forward almost breaking the down the oak double doors. Kalliste opened the door with an exhausted expression as she laid her hand on her distended belly.

" I hope you know what time it is, Aramis." She snarled and than looked to the limp human in her friend's arms, "Take her to the back."

"Markus! We had an agreement no more late night...Is that a human?" A man started and stopped when saw Aramis carrying a young woman to his wife's exam room.

"Trust me John, we wouldnt be here if it wasnt dire." Markus chimed as Aramis laid her down on the table, leaving his jacket and the jersey under her body.

Kalliste pulled her silver locks back from her face as Aramis took a step away to allow her to work. He watched her set bandages and splints next to the bed. But his eyes stayed with the woman who hadnt woken up, she was still bound, Aramis was afraid to remove the rusted chains in case he caused her more pain.

Kalliste gently put a needle in the girl's arm to get her started on an IV , she was severely dehydrated. Kalliste hooked up an IV with her personal healing remedies to rehydrate, and replenish what had been lost. With the same gentle touch, she gave the girl a nasal cannula so she could get her saturation back up. Making a circular motion with her hands, Kalliste made a transparent film to hover over the body. Her heart shattered.

"What?" Aramis asked seeing the anguish on her face.

"How is she alive? Four broken ribs, her left arm all but shattered from her dislocated shoulder to her wrist, both shoulders are almost completely dislocated, the muscle is so badly torn. Her right leg, from femur to her shin is just one giant mix of spiderweb and breaks." She listed off, her stomach churning with each image.

"What can you do?" He asked hopeful.

"I'll have to have you put her shoulders back into place, just to her arm sets properly." She instructed while electrodes attached to her exposed skin and a heart monitor kicked on, "I also need those chains removed, brief pain with follow but it has to happen."

Aramis reached out to relocate her shoulders first.

"Chains, Ramis, she wont feel it if you take the chains first."

The process jolted her awake, screaming from the pain. The monitors spiked for mere seconds because once her arms were adjusted, Kalliste set about bandaging her body. Her gloves were covered in blood by the time she was getting ready to set her ribs, than she looked to the ever impatient Aramis.

"I say this with love, Ramis, leave. I have to remove the tank top to properly bind her chest so her ribs may heal properly and you dont need to see her half naked while i do it." She warned as she cut the thin straps of the girl's camisole.

He went to stand outside the door, "in the other room Ramis! Go eat something with the boys i will come and get you when im done!"

Aramis grumbled but complied, leaving Kalliste with the girl.

Taking a deep breath, Kalliste removed the demolished camisole and dropping it in the trash with the other soiled bandages and used gauze as a binder. Stabilizing her breasts than wrapping the gauze with a ace bandage and scotchcast. Once wet, the scotchcast would harden in place and act as an exoskeleton, allowing her ribs to heal.

Kalliste looked at the girl, she looked like Frankenstein's bride with all the bandages. Except for the brief moment when Aramis popped her arms back into place, she wasnt stirring. It would take some time, her body wasnt strong enough to stay awake and giving her any adrenalin would cause something adverse. Shed wake up on her own soon enough