The salty morning winds embraced the seaside. The seagulls called above as they flew a
mongst the dilapidated buildings. Over the years, the water had claimed the square concrete complexes. This area was once several city blocks. Now part of the sea. The waves licked into the bottom floors claimed by marine life, who now resided within the many aquatic rooms. Plants grew upon all surfaces and cascaded out broken windows and off roofs above the water. A boat rocked against one of the buildings. The vessel bobbed near a moss-covered patio. Bound by a hook planted into the stone, the fresh metal is a new addition to the aging architecture. An old fire escape rusted and mangled by time offered a brace for the owner to climb to the balcony. This building is one of the tallest still standing. Its form inclined to the north but held firm. The moss brushed away, and plants trimmed and trampled spoke of activity. A floor above it stood in one of the aged windows—a feminine figure enjoying the morning light. The breeze ruffled her translucent teddy that rested at her thighs, flaring up and subjecting the round cheeks and bare womanhood to the full bite of the cold: a shiver, the thin fabric offering little protection. The silken fabric covered her ample breasts. Her eyes saw the sun cresting over the city, another day blessed to the citizens. A smile trailed soft lips, a delicate hand running through pink tresses, taming them against a gust that threatened to tangle the silky strands. The sun caught on a swirling scar that slid down her left cheek and to her jaw. Marking her as who he was. The woman turned from the window, vanishing into the darkness of her room illuminated by the sun, and a few candles that offered light to a figure in the far corner slumped down, bound by the wrist chains holding it over an exposed beam in the room.
Her gaze drew to his form, and a chuckle slipped from her. "Awake now?" the woman's voice chirped soft and delicate as light closed the distance across the bare, cracked concrete, easily avoiding the weaker holes that threatened to collapse underfoot. Silver eyes, pupils distorted into a cross shape, regarded him as his dull eyes slid up her form, stopping but three free from him, her arms crossed as she watched him.
"Welcome to my home, I was worried you would sleep through this beautiful day." She smiled softly. The man before her held a tattoo on his hand. The mark of a snake in the shape of an S. Marking him as a member of the Adders. A group that gathered children to sell as slaves. The color upon the scales marked his rank blue for his high rank, with red eyes marking him as a procurer. They made themselves far too easy to spot. So brazen, she would send a message with this one. Her hand came to his arm, a gentle glide running up his arm as she smiled, meeting his bound hand with one of her own, pulling his ring finger in a soft embrace, her purple-painted fingernails glistening in the growing sun's illumination as her free hand pulled a blade from her belt. The man growled against the gag placed into his mouth to keep him silent as he tried to tear from her, rage in his eyes as he struggled against the restraints. She had little doubt she recognized her now, knew his time had come. Her face adorned many a bounty poster. The sketch improved over the last year she had resided in the city. A perfect rendition of her likeness was plastered on many a wall, though her hold on the commonbloods her kindness had also spread. She knew few would dare betray her.
"Oh Don't fret. I am not going to kill you, but I do need to get us some breakfast," She mewed, her fingers manipulating his as he fought to close his hand, but it was far too late. Her thumb wedged his finger upwards. Her blade sliced through his finger. A high scream escaped him, his body shuttered, and his finger fell to the floor. A light touch of her hand healed the wound and ceased the bleeding.
"See, you are just fine." She smiled at him, patting his cheek as he shifted his body as if trying to strike her, A futile attempt in his bound state. He kept on his knees. Each ankle tied to a cinderblock weighed him down. She knelt before him, lightly picking up his bloody finger as she wiped her blade clean on his shirt. Walking away towards her table, she stabbed a hook through it. Tying a line, she walked to the window again, throwing his finger into the water, the translucent wire spooling from her hand a soft splash as the finger sunk into the water. She sat on the windowsill to wait for her breakfast to take the bait.
She allowed the man to growl and fight, descending into hopeless sobs behind her petite form. She was nearly half his weight, which was undoubtedly frustrating for him. He was at her mercy. He was one of many to find himself here. He wouldn't be the last. She would enjoy taking him apart piece by piece, keeping him alive. She would use his body to gain the fish to feed him them, his body to recover her own from fights within the slums. She would send a message, and it would be heeded if they ever sought to keep their members whole.
There was little doubt in her mind as she heard him scream pointlessly against the gag into the vacant water-logged building that he knew his fate. Who she was now. She was the Sadistic Healer. His choices had caught up with him. She would be hers for the next three months. She would return him with but one arm, his branded arm fingerless. His stump of a body mutilated and scarred, his arm and legs removed for the bait meat, jaw, and vocal cords removed to ensure he could never speak of her home. She would return him alive, useless to the streets to be found, much as his crew left the mangled bodies of family members who tried to fight them to protect their children. It was a fitting punishment, at least in her mind. He was the fourth taken by her thus far.
