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cepheusgalaxy · 14 days ago

Text

prologue

Cws: Teen whumpee, nightmares, implied abuse, torture, electrocution (but all in the dream lmao)

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Espa jolted awake, raising a hand to clutch her chest. A cry threatened to rise up her throat. They covered their mouth to muffle it, a sob making its way out of their lips regardless. Her blood pumped hard against her ears, fingers curling tight around the thin fabric of her shirt as if she’d die if she let it go. The air in their lungs was too little. They couldn’t breathe. They felt like they’d been running for hours. They tried to force themself to breathe. Their hand trembled over her mouth.

After a while, their chest began rising up and down, and little by little, the fog in their head started to fade away.

She stayed still, palm over her lips. Every nerve in her system was stretched thin as if they would break apart. Breath in, they told themself. Breathe in, breathe out.

Shakily, her chest waved, and Espa glanced up to the window. Through the curtains, she saw it was still night. They slowly took their hand off their mouth, every muscle on their body still tensed up. She forced herself to breathe deeper.

Espa looked down at their lap, forcing the air in and out, still clutching their chest. It hurt. It raised its hand again to cover its face, feeling the soft folds of the skin. They felt their fingers wet.

Had it been a nightmare?

With every second that passed, the memory got blurrier, but now it was pretty sure it had. With the sudden burst of adrenaline starting to wear off, Espa could feel itself shaking. Their eyes were welling up. She tried breathing deep again, wiping the water. In. Hold. Out. She allowed herself to loosen the grip on her shirt a bit. In, hold, out.

In a few repetitions of that, she could feel herself finally calming down. Espa sighed, exhaustion washing over her. They looked out of the window again—the light was dim, so clouds must have covered the stars above—and fell back on the mattress with a thud.

With that movement alone, the memories of the dream came rushing back to her. They covered their mouth again, with both hands, breathing sharp through their nose in an effort not to cry.

In. Hold. Out.

The nightmare was about butterflies.

The images played over on her mind as Espa closed her eyes shut.

There had been a lily.

It was a flower with long, thin petals. Like a spider’s legs. It was just as white as powder. Espa had seen it before, she had thought, back on a mission. Some corporate had it decorating his entire house, down from the gardens to the very bathroom. They’d found them pretty—exquisite—that first time, but in the dream, it sent chills down their spine. For reasons Espa couldn’t tell, their instincts screamed at them to step away from the lily. A yellow butterfly flew by. It was the only contrast of color against the gray sky of the landscape. It looked ever more lively, beautiful, with every flap of its tiny wings. They were mesmerized. Espa took a step towards it, although it had been more on accident than on purpose. The insect drew her in like a magnet. She held her breath, freezing up when it approached the white flower. The butterfly hovered above it as if wondering why there weren’t any others around, and Espa tried to call for it to get back, away from it, but she couldn’t find her voice. Their hands rose up to their throat, trying to force something out. But Espa couldn’t say a thing. It flew down. Unknowing, the butterfly landed on the lily.

In a second, it was gone.

Espa’s eyes widened, her breath getting stuck. Was it seeing things? They dropped their hands, looking around for a yellow glimpse to know where it could’ve gone, only to see the outline of the city back in the distance. No sign of it. When she turned back, even the flower was gone. In its place there was now a hole. Espa hesitated, walking in closer. The butterfly couldn’t have gone there.

Tentatively, it drew its hand onto the puncture. A shock of pain lit her nerves—she screamed, a raw cry that cut through the silent air as fire cursed through her veins—and she fell, blacking out.

When Espa opened its eyes again, it was chained. Chained in a basement.

There were lots of people with them. Her eyes searched for a familiar face, trying to access the situation, but to no use. Three tall adults stood in front of her. She could recognize none of them. All of their features were muffled as if by water.

Espa could tell they had features, because, apart from them, all of the others behind had blank voids in place of their faces. She turned her head around, frantically, before a rough hand shoved it to the ground. A whimper left her lips.

One of the people they could see was holding a whip. Another, a belt with iron buckles. Their ends glistened, sharp like thorns. A cold sweat fell down Espa’s brow. The third—and the last she could identify a face in—had a control in their hand.

Her breath got stuck in her throat.

Espa’s heart started beating faster, pumping hard against their chest. No, they thought. NO. She pleaded.

She pleaded, and apologized. She asked for forgiveness—because it could only be it. It must’ve been her fault. She must have done something bad. She must’ve been really, really bad. Espa couldn’t stop her breath from growing more erratic with every second, and when two pairs of hands grabbed her arms—nails sinking in so deep they drew blood—the person with the shock collar’s control walking towards her, she was already crying. Espa had tried pleading again, begging, but to no use.

A finger pressed down on the button, and her world was filled with red, hot pain.

It screamed. For hours. Their throat hurt, and their skin started bleeding and withering around itself, giving up on holding her together. Espa screamed. A lot. Liters of warm, warm blood poured free from every cavity left from the melting, and it was coughing blood, choking on it, and the pain added up with every minute. Espa sobbed. She begged again. For anyone. For it to end. There were voices coming from far away, and it made out they were asking it if it was sorry yet. Espa didn’t know what it should feel sorry for, but she was. So, so sorry. Whatever it had done wrong this time, it promised it would never do it again. She would be good. Espa let out a hiccup. She would be better. It was—it was sorry. It tried telling them, but it couldn’t find its voice. Not even screams were coming out of her mouth anymore. Espa cried, face a wobbly mess of tears, and from a distant corner of her mind, she noticed the shocks had stopped. I’m sorry. They gagged on their own voice, mute. I’ll be good. Please. Please. It tried to say.

They didn’t hear it.

A scoff, and the one with the collar’s control said:

“Well. Not even going to apologize?”

Her stomach dropped. Espa looked up at him with its eyes watering. No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! The handler tilted their head, disappointed. Someone manhadled her body into sitting up. “Another round, then.”

Their finger started pressing down on the button. Espa’s breaths came out swallow, and they couldn’t inhale any more in. It felt dizzy for air. Its arms burned.

Right as she thought the electricity would run free into her veins again, the handler exploded into a thousand black flowers.

Espa stared up at them, eyes wide. Dark petals fell softly on the ground, and the other people turned to her. Angry fingers gripped harder on handles—the whip and the belt and a hundred other tools she couldn’t see. Her chains clinged, and Espa’s arms fell to the ground, free. It was paralyzed, tears running down its cheeks, and time seemed to slow down. They were approaching her.

Her mind ordered her to stay still.

They deserved it.

Don’t move.

They shouldn’t run.

Don’t resist.

Their lips trembled, and Espa started to panic. But they bit it down, not moving, because they could be good. They would be good.

And yet, before anyone could get a centimeter closer, Espa’s legs got up from under her and flew away.

It ran.

It ran, and ran, and ran, leaving the basement behind and eventually touching itchy, dry grass. In a blink, even the ground ended, and it couldn’t run anymore. Espa found themself floating in pure darkness, alone and unable to move. Uh? She was still crying, not knowing what to do. Espa turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of something. Of anything. A light. A rock. The sky.

But there was nothing.

Nothing on her right. Nothing on her left, either. Neither above, and nor below. She turned back. Not even the ground she had been stepping on, replaced by an oppressive, hollow darkness.

They let out a hiccup, shaking.

After what felt like hours trapped in there, the air somehow stopping to run through her lungs—Espa could feel their consciousness slipping away, eyes fluttering shut and pain gnawing at her throat—she catched a glimpse of something.

A pair of tiny yellow wings.

Wings.

...It had seen them before.

Espa shook her head, forcing herself to remain awake. The butterfly flew away from them, and they tried swimming in the nothingness to reach it. Struggling, they were pretty sure they had moved a whole centimeter.

With a bump, it painfully hit its head against the wall, wincing. Wait, a wall? Has there been a wall before? An invisible barrier stood right in front of it, insurmountable, and the yellow butterfly flew far out of reach, crossing the threshold Espa couldn’t go behind.

“Don’t leave me!” It tried to scream, banging on the void. Espa’s eyes welled up again. She didn’t know if the words ever left her mouth, but either way, the small thing paid her no mind. They held back the tears, knocking harder on the wall.

Behind her, a strange noise started to build up. They didn’t pay it any mind. The butterfly wasn’t there anymore. The sound started growing louder, louder, louder, until it filled everything and they couldn’t hear anything else.

Growing into a roar.

Espa turned behind, still crying, and saw a wave of large, bright, colorful sunflowers—no, not sunflowers. With the lack of air dizzying her mind and the pain washing down her body, Espa tried to focus her vision. They were smaller than sunflowers. But similar. Pink and orange and white and beige, a million of them moved together as if a tide, and they engulfed Espa, drowning any protests it tried to mouth and muffling the rest of its oxygen away.

After that, Espa didn’t remember much of the dream. Maybe they’d woken up for a few minutes without noticing, before drifting back to sleep. What had followed had been the standard torture she didn’t know why she had earned; hunger and exhaustion and her muscles being sore but she not being allowed to stop. It was soaked in blood—its own blood, its siblings’ blood, its handler’s blood, its assignment’s blood—and it glued onto it like a second skin, closing tighter and tighter until it was so painful it couldn’t breathe. Espa had dropped her sword, the plasma solidifying around her and choking her limbs and throat. She clawed at it, trying to get it off, but it was too strong. Soon, Espa couldn’t move, and their world was filled with pain.

That had probably been the point she woke up.

Espa’s breathing had quickened again, taking in swallow, thin air, and she tried to force it to even back. It felt tired. They took a peek out of the window again, and weak sunshine lighting the floor under the window told them the sun had started rising from behind the clouds. It suppressed a whine. It didn’t want to get out of bed. It didn’t want to try and go back to sleep either.

Espa suppressed another cry, hiding their face under their pillows. There was nothing she could do but wait five o’ clock to come and try to bat an eye until then.

Hugging the bed sheets at the lack of a blanket, they just hoped they hadn’t screamed too loud at night. Ann would beat her black and blue today if she had.

And Espa didn’t think it could handle any more pain.

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#ITS DONE YALL #MY FIRST CHAPTER OF MY FIRST EVER SERIES #ISN'T SHE BEAUTIFUL #aughhhhh im so nervous #i can finally cross the 'first chapter' goal on my roadmap!#espada writing #espada wip #espa oc #my writing #whump writing #whump series #whumpblr #living weapon whumpee #child whumpee #nightmare whump #whump community

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