Chapter 217: The Basement

**** Content Warning ****

The following chapter contains scenes of torture / abuse. Please read at your own discretion. 

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Dam Dam led the way through the creepy tunnel leading downstairs and into a space Aila couldn't quite believe was underground the mansion. She stared at everything in wonder, "Wow!"

Dam Dam ran ahead and smashed the glass where the shotguns were hanging and..

"Aila.."

That voice didn't go with this scene..

Her surroundings melted away, and Aila came round to the familiar feeling of pain around her neck and her body feeling weak.

"Aila, wake up. You've been asleep far too long. I didn't even give you that much."

That voice, the man who was in her dream, no, it wasn't a dream, it was one of many lost memories of her childhood. But now, it seemed that one memory unlocked many, and without sleeping, she remembered what happened next. It was relatively simple; she and Damon ran down the secret passageway, he knew the route, and by the end of all the twists and turns, they emerged outside the cave by the lake twenty minutes later. The very place Damon showed her for their first date.

Damon's pack was waiting for them along with Mandy and Andy, who Aila instantly ran to, their familiar faces immediately relaxed her tiny body, and she finally collapsed from the trauma of seeing her parents die. Aila and Damon only spent another two weeks together at the Blood Moon Pack; he never left her alone, consoled her when she needed it and was a friend and playmate until it was time to go. That was the last time she saw Damon until he saved her by shooting Connor in the head at the hunter's compound.

"Aila," Clint whispered next to her ear, causing her to flinch with the reminder of her current circumstances.

Aila fluttered her eyes open and instantly felt disorientated. Fluorescent lighting beamed down on her face with the droning sound of electricity, and the chilled, damp atmosphere made her instantly alert. She was lying on a metal table, her arms and legs clamped down along with the collar on her neck. Though she was relieved, the table did not appear to be made from silver. Otherwise, the back of her legs would be in incredible pain by now.

Her eyes searched the room, and she knew straight away where she was. It was the basement, and to the right side of her, where another stainless steel table stood with a sink, there were an array of tools. Tools that did not look too friendly towards her right now as she stayed motionless on the table. She felt like laughing, it seemed her leg from the bear trap had healed, and her chest felt fine. Yet she was going to be tortured?

"My my, what is with that precious smile on your face?" Clint asked; his face appeared above her, shading her from the light's beams.

Aila's smile dropped, and she glared at him. She tried to move her arms and head, but the restraints held her back. He was the man that killed her mother. The man stabbed her mother more than twenty times, even after she was dead.

Clint tilted his head to the side with a smirk crawling up his face before wiping away a tear from her face. Aila did not know she had been crying, or maybe she was crying in her sleep; either way, she was not about to show him any weakness. The moment Aila was free, she would rip that smirk off his face. Clint's smirk deepened, "There she is.. There's that spark."

Aila bit her tongue. Even with her anger bubbling up inside her and the desire to kill him, her senses alerted her that he would enjoy the experience much more if she reacted a lot to what he wanted to do to her.

With a very flat tone, she asked what was on her mind, "How long until you take me back to the hunters?"

Clint clapped his hands together and smiled at her broadly. "Why? Do you want to spend as much time with me as I do you?"

"Something like that," Aila muttered. She knew torture was inevitable, and as much as she believed herself strong enough, staring at those scalpels, butchers, knives, saws, other bloody tools she didn't know the name of, but she would most likely faint.

"You've been asleep for a day. We only have two days left. But don't worry." He slid his finger from the side of her temple across her cheek before tapping her on her nose. "I will visit you in the compound also."

Aila flinched from his touch and closed her eyes briefly. Clint turned away from her and walked to the table of tools returning with scissors in his hands. Aila eyed them. Was he going to stab her with those? Instead, Clint placed his free hand on her stomach and brought the scissors to the top of her dress. Aila tensed as he slowly began cutting through the middle of the dress.

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"And here I thought you liked dressing me up.." Aila said dryly. Yes, she was making jokes at a time like this, but her mind was not keeping up with everything right now. She was nervous and scared. Nobody else was there except the two of them. She was in the middle of nowhere, where nobody could find them.

Aila never thought of herself as a 'damsel in distress', but right about now, she hoped somebody would kick down the door and save her. Her eyes flickered to the door at the other end of the room, and she sighed. Nope, nobody was going to save her.

Clint chuckled at her dry remark. "I do," He opened the dress, so she lay there in her lingerie. His eyes roamed her skin hungrily, making Aila's stomach churn. He leaned forwards, so they stared at one another, "But the thing I like more than dressing you up.." He stroked the side of her face with the scissors, leaving scratch marks that did not tear through the skin. "Is leaving cuts on such beautiful skin like yours.."

His eyes were looking at the white scratch marks on her cheek, and his nostrils flared. Aila gulped. "Oh! Where are my manners.. You must be thirsty.. I would give you something to eat, but I think it's best you have an empty stomach.. Don't you agree?" Clint abruptly pulled away and returned with a cup. 

He put his free hand under her head to lift it up before placing the drink of water against her lips. Aila greedily drank it all. If anything, she could ask for a 'break' to go to the toilet. She hoped. Clint seemed to keep everything sparkling clean, so he would never let her relieve herself on the table, right?

He pulled the cup away and returned with a scalpel in his hand. Aila inhaled sharply at the sight of the blade, the light gleaming off it.

"Hmmm.. Now..Where should I start?" He whispered coldly. Aila could see his eyes roaming her half-naked body as though she was nothing more than meat about to be butchered up. She could only put her faith into thinking that he would not kill her because of how important she was to the hunters.

Aila watched as he brought the scalpel down, and he scraped it across her stomach. Aila released her breath in stunned silence; Clint chuckled at her reaction. He used the handle to torment her. But then, in one swift movement, Clint turned the tool around and stabbed her stomach. He ripped the blade down in a slow and agonising motion before twisting it around. Aila bit her lip and closed her eyes at the sensation of blood pooling onto her skin.

"Why.." She sputtered, "Why do you like it?"

Clint leaned towards her face, and she saw the crazed look behind his eyes. "I honestly don't know. I suppose I was just born this way.." He pondered for a moment with the bloodied scalpel in hand. "Huh, I guess I'll be the scariest fucker you'll ever meet.. I take quite a bit of pride in that.."

"Fuck you!" Aila retorted instantly.

So much for staying calm, but when a man wants to cut you up, emotions do tend to rise…

Clint smiled and brought the scalpel down to her face. One hand held her head in place while he stared into her panicked eyes as he started cutting into her cheek. Clint pulled back and instantly went to her chest, touching her collarbone area, making her shiver. Aila's eyes widened; why was he where her mark was?

Clint stared at the mark and brushed over it with the tool. "You know," He started cutting into her flesh just below her mark. She gritted her teeth as tears welled up in her eyes. What was he doing? He was making a shape.. "I tried cutting into this she-wolf's mark before.. But it had some sort of magic on it.. Any time the knife pierced it, it instantly was flung back."

Aila listened, but she couldn't say anything as she focused on her breathing.

"The good thing about you mutts, though.. Is that you always heal.." Clint said in a sing-song voice. The man was in a world of his own as he started to whistle a tune while he continued carving into her.

"If you give me wolfsbane…" She sucked in a sharp breath as he cut into the same flesh again, "I won't heal quickly.. There's.. ugh… There's only.. so much," She felt sick, "you can.. do.."

Clint chuckled and pulled away. Aila watched as he tilted his head to the side and looked at what he carved onto her skin like it was a masterpiece.

"Nah-ah, nice try.. I doubt even you will heal that quickly anyway without it. I am quite happy with this blank canvas.. There is also your back and areas that are still covered.." His voice sent chills down her spine.

For the next two days, even with the number of cuts inflicted on her body, the stabs, twisting of knives and the use of the saw on one occasion.. No matter what Clint did, Aila kept her cries and groans to a minimum. He still fed her, though it was the bare minimum, let her relieve herself, and even helped her take a shower..

Helped..

She felt weak from the blood loss, the wolfsbane and the lack of nutrients going into her body. But Clint was all about keeping her wounds clean, along with her body and her 'precious skin'. By the end of the second day, her body was covered in cuts; some of them were 'drawings'. But the one that she despised the most was the hunter's association symbol carved into her chest just below her mark.

As though he too had marked her as his.

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