Chapter 8 -Vega POV

A familiar room - stop no, not here again, Gods no please - meets my vision as I wake, and I freeze. Brown couch below me and gray walls around. Unhelpfully, my brain reminds me that the couch wasn't always this color - enough dried blood to permanently dye the couch. The sheer amount of times I had tried to revert the color back to its original white. I shudder as memories I had blocked out, come soaring back.

My chest tightened and bars wrapped themselves around my lungs. My breath stuttered and my chest began to throb. Oh hell. My throat was raw, and I could feel my body begin to shake. 'You're useless', said voices in his head. 'You will never amount to anything.' My voice deepened into something a bit deeper, louder - something terribly familiar. Spade's voice. Everything was blurry, and I realized I was crying. Water kept dripping down his neck and made it itchy.

Spades stood before her, hands on her hips. My shaky hands held the broken mug, cast in shadow - her favorite, might I add. The other suits stood on the side, their faces unreadable.

"You useless piece of shit," she growled, a dark purple aura brightening the room. I shivered and felt tears drip onto my hands. I was shoved to the ground, and I stayed there. I knew the repercussions if I fought back. Spades stepped behind me. A grunt and then a heavy thud was heard. I screamed as my back was ripped into with Spade's power.

Time passed in a blur, and soon I saw spots in front of my vision. Breathing seemed to be the only thing that I could do until I could not feel anything anymore.

Right as I am about to give in to the black void, the scene changes. Overwhelming power is gone, the pain dulled to phantom stings.

I hear a rustle above and stare. A murder black ravens swarm a small white dove. More like a red dove from how much blood the poor creature has lost - it is very peculiar that the bird can fly still. The birds pick and claw at the innocent creature and it tries and tries to escape but can't - trapped within the cage, wishing for death to come. A quick one at that, but, alas, that is not possible at this time. Feathers float to the ground around me like rose petals from a bride's maid. I feel one fall into my lap then another on my head. Continuously they cover me until there is nothing but a pile of feathers among me. Finally, I see the bird fall, dead. Before it can hit the ground the last feather falls and renders me sightless as I hear a small thud.