How Far I've Come (Keith x Reader)

◯ The Torture; Chapter Sixteen ◯

{Back into the Depths of Y/N's Memories}

"It's time." Lotor growled.

Your mind began to swarm with angry hornets of absolute horror. Haggar is finally ready.

Haggar is finally ready for you.

"NO! Please!" You shout on cue, ripping your arms and shoulders out of his grip every time he tried to successfully grab you. It was fatiguing you quickly, but you were more concerned with saving yourself from whatever black, bloody hex the witch would stain your soul with.

"I've had enough of your childish behavior, you disrespectful brat. It will all be over soon if you would stop struggling and come with me." Lotor hissed. His voice was eerily calm, but the threat and danger within it glistened like venom. A strangled sob escaped your throat, screaming and grunting helplessly in your attempts to escape his stinging grasp.

It took Lotor an unexpected amount of wasted time to drag you and your wretched cries out of your cell. You had gone as far as clinging to the edge of the doorway, like a little kid who doesn't want to leave a toy shop, he being the Father who was about to beat you to a pulp for your behavior.

It was past due time to bring you to Haggar, and from what you had heard (which was horrifyingly little, leaving much to your terrorized imagination), she was to "fix you" to Lotor's benefit.

You had been nothing but a sobbing, shrieking mess in his strong, horridly inescapable arms. While he was trying to remain calm and collected, you kicked and fought with what little energy you were running on.

Basically, you were a dead girl living on fumes, about to be put through what's recognized as the most horrid torture in the known universe.

You had every right to be horrified. Every right to fear if you'll live to see tomorrow's common terror. It's what you should be fearing, and it's what you're thrashing and screaming over with every fiber in your terrorized being.

"Don't, PLEASE!!" You cry, trying with everything you can to claw and jump your way out of his arms. He doesn't let his grip lose strength, and your wrist begins to bruise deeply from the vigor in his hold. Parts of his armor are scraping into you, pressing too deep and leaving marks that should never be left by one's 'mate'.

'I should have gone with Shiro. I should have escaped. I shouldn't have played the hero. I should have left with the crew on Nix when I had the chance. I can't escape. I'll never escape. This is hell. This is home.' Your mind screams back, but it's more of a reminder now than a shock. Every day you regret being the good guy, if this is how the 'hero' must die.

Nevertheless, the way you proceed with your lost cause of an existence in rebelling against your superior. It feels like your conscious is pounding on your brain, cracking a little deeper every time a cry for help shreds your throat, but boy, is it not worth it.

"We're almost there, silence yourself you obnoxious wench!" Lotor barks, and in seconds your vigorous howling reduces to muffled sobbing.

His hand is clamped over your mouth, your tears weaving through his fingers as he walks you to the Witch's lab. You wouldn't call how he's handling you 'Bridal Style', more like 'One-Sided Love' style, in which he tried for bridal, but instead of holding a loving partner, he carries someone who wants nothing to do with his abuse and tyranny.