Chapter Text
Dean Winchester's pov
"Get up, now!" A loud, nightmarish voice shouts suddenly, the sound instantly startling me awake as I whimper in terror.
No, not again!
Please, just leave me alone!
Despite knowing that his words are an order and I need to obey, I don't make any move to stand, my dislocated shoulder from Azazel’s earlier visit making it impossible to push myself off the dirty mattress in the corner of my cell.
"NOW!" Azazel yells as he delivers a harsh, swift kick in the stomach.
His shiny black boot collides with my stomach hard enough that my breath escapes in a low wheeze, a sickening crack echoing throughout the room.
Fuck, that hurts like hell!
As I try in vain to catch my breath, I weakly grab at my ribs, the blooming pain in them making each breath more difficult than the last.
"You have one minute to stand, or else...” Azazel threatens in a snarl as he kicks me again, ripping the air from my lungs before I fully got it back. “I'll have to take you right here on your bed. Then, each miserable night, you'll sleep in the mess I leave behind."
Knowing that I can't let Azazel soil my mattress, the only thing that's mine in this hell hole, I dig deep, trying to find the strength to stand.
While still clutching tightly to my stomach with my left hand, I slowly rise to my knees, the action extremely difficult between my pain and not using my arms to help push myself upright.
"Finally, looks like you’re not entirely worthless,” Azazel taunts with a cruel chuckle as he dangles a crude, black leash in front of my face. “Now, come with me."
No, I don’t want to come with you!
Just go away!
And now, oh fuck, he’s reaching for my throat!
Don’t move.
Stay still.
Don’t give him any reason to choke me.
Please, just put the leash on me and that’s it.
I hate that leash so much, but I’ll deal with it if it means I can go a few minutes without being hurt.
Painfully slowly, Azazel reaches toward my delicate throat with his much-too-large-hands, my own hands starting to tremble violently as I still weakly clutch my ribs.
I continue shaking as he attaches the leash to the d-ring on my collar, but these tremors are for a reason other than fear.
Not only do I have to wear this awful spiked collar, but he puts a leash on me to take me someplace like I'm a fucking animal.
I hate him!
I wish I could take that leash and wrap it around his throat, show him how it feels to be treated like this!
He must notice my anger over being leashed up because his hand lingers near my throat much longer than it should.
My entire body tenses further, my hands shaking even more violently when his hand wraps around my neck.
Oh God, oh fuck, I messed up, he’s gonna fucking choke me again!
No, I don’t want this!
Please, just go away!
"Such a beautiful whore. Who do you belong to?" Azazel asks as the hand on my throat tightens minutely, on the brink of cutting off the oxygen flowing to my heart.
Maybe this time he’ll keep squeezing until the light leaves my eyes.
Maybe then I'll finally be free from this hell.
Please, just kill me.
"I belong to Master Alastair and you, Master Azazel, the two strongest and most powerful alphas to ever exist," I say without hesitation, my voice sounding scratchy, dull, and lifeless even to my own ears, something I desperately hope doesn't result in punishment.
"That's right,” Azazel asks as he continues holding my throat, a wicked smile heard clearly in his voice. “And who do you like more?"
I pause a few moments before answering, wracking my brain for any type of response that won’t get me punished.
Seeming to dislike my brief hesitation, Azazel pulls out a long, jagged knife, always ready to cause me more pain.
As he twirls the knife with his free hand, easily showing off the skill he possesses with that weapon, I continue carefully weighing my options, hoping he’ll be a little patient with me for once.
If I say something Azazel dislikes, I know he’ll stab me. And I really don’t want to be stabbed right now, especially with the pressing dizziness and nausea I already feel. I know Azazel couldn’t kill me without facing Alastair's wrath, which I still haven’t decided if that’s a good or bad thing, but Alastair wouldn’t have any quarrels with him stabbing me, adding to my endless agony.
On the other hand, if I lie to Azazel and say that he’s my favorite, he could tell Alastair what I said, resulting in long hours of brutal torture at his hands. And fuck, I’m just so tired, I don’t think I can handle any more of his torture sessions.
After releasing a deep breath, hoping to any being that’s still listening to my sorry ass that this doesn’t get me punished, I weakly whisper the words I hate, "I am nothing more than a slave. I don’t have any preferences. I will take whatever you give me without question or complaint."
The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth, but I know it was the right choice when he smiles widely and releases my throat.
"Good boy,” Azazel praises in a condescending tone as he roughly pats my head, once again acting like I’m nothing more than an animal. “Alastair always said that you're just a pretty face, but clearly, you have a brain. I think you and I will spend a lot more time together. You have my interest. Now come with me, it's been a stressful day."
"Thank you, Master Azazel. If you’ll let me, I can take away your stress," I say with a weak, yet hopefully seductive smile, suddenly thinking of a plan that I desperately hope will work.
It’ll be risky, but, if I pull this off, I’ll finally be free from them. God, I just want to be free, even if that means dying to do so.
I just want this to end.
"Yes, I’m taking a liking to you,” Azazel says with a smirk as he tugs roughly on my leash. “Alastair’s going to miss you with all the time we'll spend together. Are you good in the bedroom?"
With a yelp, I fall onto my hands and knees as he tugs the leash, the pain shooting through my dislocated shoulder causing my vision to darken as bile rises in my throat.
"I asked you a question!" Azazel shouts as he backhands me, the force of his slap sending me sprawling onto the floor.
I try to brace myself for the pain that I know will come, but a horrid scream tears through my throat when my right side collides with the floor, the impact jarring my shoulder brutally.
As my loud, broken screaming turns into violent sobs, the haze of pain clears enough for me to dully realize that Azazel is talking to me.
It takes all my willpower to push past my pain, but I manage to catch little snippets of his words.
"You’re really hurt... Fucked you up real good... Have some fun with that shoulder... Hurry up... Don't like waiting..." Azazel faintly says, his voice sounding miles and miles away, but I know he’s close, his foot barely touching my dislocated shoulder, moments away from causing me more pain.
Knowing that he’ll kick my abused shoulder if I don’t listen, the pain of that no doubt enough to knock me out cold, letting Azazel do anything he wants while I’m unconscious, I grit my teeth and slowly clamber to my knees.
"Good boy. Now crawl," Azazel says with a wicked laugh as he tugs roughly on my leash again.
With no other choice left, I release a heavy sigh before I slowly start inching my way forward.
Thankfully, Azazel lets me crawl at my slow pace. Normally, I wouldn't dare press my luck by moving this slow, especially since Alastair hates these kinds of antics. Unlike usual though, I can't push past the pain in my shoulder, my dislocated arm dangling uselessly at my side as I use my other limbs to drag myself forward.
"I should ask Alastair if he’d be willing to lend you to me more often. I'd love to wake up each morning with you tied to my bed, eagerly awaiting for me to have some fun with you," Azazel says with a cruel smile heard clearly in his voice, his words causing me to shiver, knowing that I couldn't take that.
I'd rather die than spend each day with Azazel.
Alastair is the cruelest person I have ever met, but at least he has a few boundaries.
After Alastair uses me, one of his servants drags me back to my cell where I’m left alone for the night.
Without that time to myself each night, I know there would be nothing left of me.
I'm fucked up far beyond repair but, contrary to what Alastair says, I still have a brain. During those hours when I'm alone, I think about life before.
Before I presented and John sold me to Alastair so he could buy more beer. Before that, when Sammy was the only person on my mind. Back when I was a person, not a filthy plaything to Alastair and his many friends who’ve taken advantage of me.
Before I can spend any more time dwelling on the life I had before I turned 16, I’m ripped from my thoughts by a hand roughly grabbing my throat.
Before I presented, a hand wrapping around my throat would have instantly triggered my fight or flight response. For anyone who tried to touch me like that, I would’ve kicked their ass. Now, I just let my body go limp as I close my eyes, ready to accept whatever fucked up plans Azazel has for me.
For a few seconds, I’m entirely weightless, the strange sensation causing me to weakly open my eyes in confusion, but I can’t see anything, my vision gray blobs from lack of oxygen.
Finally, the hand around my throat releases, causing me to cough violently as my back slams into something soft, yet bouncy.
It takes a few seconds, but I see through blurry vision that I’m now on Azazel's bed.
Oh fuck, I’m on a bed!
Nothing good ever comes from that.
Please, I don’t want to be here!
Please, please, please!
"Look at you,” Azazel whispers with a cruel smile as I feel the bed dip beside me from his weight. “So breathtaking, laying there sprawled out on my bed. I can't wait to tie you up and take you. You'll spend the entire night screaming and begging me to stop, but I never will. Alastair is only gone for today, so we’ll enjoy this."
I open my mouth to beg Azazel not to do this, but, before any words can come out, his lips are forcibly crashing into mine.
Bile rises in my throat as Azazel absolutely manhandles me, placing both hands on my cheeks to hold me in place as he turns a kiss into something so terribly dirty and unpleasant.
Even though I hate Alastair with all my heart, sometimes he treats me well. When I've pleased him, he’ll take the time to prepare me while kissing me softly. His kisses are slow and intimate, so different from the way Azazel is currently forcing his tongue down my throat.
As he continues roughly kissing me, biting down on my bottom lip hard enough to bruise and draw blood, I start feeling angrier than I ever have.
Who gives Azazel the right to do this to me?!
Alastair can do whatever fucked up shit he wants to me because he’s the legal owner of my contract, but Azazel has no right to do this!
When his hand slides up my shirt to caress my chest, my good hand forms a fist as I start to shake from rage.
"You fucking love this, don't you?" Azazel asks in a breathy whisper as he finally stops assaulting my mouth.
I open my mouth to plead with him, but he must view that as an invitation to continue. Once again, my words die in my throat as Azazel connects his lips with mine in the most unpleasant way.
I groan in pain into the kiss as he bites down particularly hard on my still bleeding lip, hating every second of this.
This fucking sucks!
I can deal with this type of rough treatment from Alastair, but not Azazel.
This has gone too far!
I try to break away from the kiss, but he straddles me, using his knees to pin my arms at my sides. As his knee puts pressure on my dislocated arm, I whimper into the kiss, but he just swallows down the sound with his own mouth. Now that I can't even move my arms, the helplessness of my situation sinks in, creating a bitter taste in my mouth that’s even worse than the touch of his kiss.
After a couple more minutes of him using my body for his pleasure against my will, I can't take it anymore.
An ugly sob tears its way through my throat, but hardly a sound escapes, Azazel's own mouth swallowing and drowning out my pleas.
Azazel pulls back from the kiss with a satisfied smirk, seeming completely unphased by my tears.
"Please, Master Azazel," I beg as I try to hold back my sobs, not wanting any part of this anymore.
I know begging never works, but God, I just want this to end.
"Shut the fuck up!” Azazel shouts as he wraps his hand around my throat, squeezing hard. “You were made for this, so do as I say."
I open my mouth to apologize, hoping that he’ll go easier on me if I show him I’ll be good, but no sound escapes other than a choked groan, his hand on my throat restricting my words.
As gray spots rapidly cloud my vision, I dully wonder if this is how I die.
Will Alastair return home tomorrow from his business trip to find my corpse in his brother's bed?
Wouldn’t that be a sight?
I can only imagine the anger he’d feel upon seeing me dead.
Even though I’m just a stupid, replaceable omega, I know that Alastair is fond of me. After all, he hasn’t taken any other omega to bed in years. In a sick twisted way, Alastair loves me.
God, I hope he kills me.
If Azazel kills me, not only would I be free from this hell, but Azazel would be in agony. Alastair would make him pay for killing me.
And I'd love to see this fucker pay!
By the time my head is pounding furiously and my vision is nothing but a dark gray blob, Azazel releases his hold on my throat.
I tell myself that, even though I could breathe now, I shouldn't.
I mean, what's the point in prolonging my suffering?
Even though I vow not to breathe, my traitorous body greedily sucks in oxygen the moment Azazel is no longer preventing me from breathing.
"Don't ever speak to me unless I ask you to,” Azazel says in a stern tone as he punches me in the nose, making my fight for oxygen even more difficult. “I will not tolerate begging."
As I continue trying in vain to catch my breath, I feel warmth start to ooze from my nose.
Tentatively, I poke my swollen tongue out of my abused mouth to lick my upper lip, the copper tang of blood from my nose instantly filling my mouth.
"Master Azazel?” I ask hesitantly once I’ve caught my breath, desperation creeping into my tone as I hope that he may go easy on me if I apologize. “I'm sorry,"
"You should be sorry, you useless slut!” Azazel exclaims with a murderous look in his eyes. “I should just kill you."
As he pulls out the knife from earlier, I stare intently at it, knowing that this could be the end for me.
He might actually kill me.
I could finally be free.
Free...
But would I be free?
Is death really freedom?
Or is being free living the life I want, with Sammy by my side?
What if I’m thinking about this all wrong?
For so long, I’ve just wanted to die and end this constant agony.
If I die, I wouldn't have to spend another day with Alastair and Azazel.
What if I don't have to die though?
What if Azazel is the one who needs to die, not me?
Would I be free without him in my life?
Suddenly, I’m roughly yanked from my thoughts as a sharp, throbbing pain explodes within my dislocated shoulder.
As yet another agonized scream tears through my battered and abused throat, I quickly glance at my shoulder, trying to find any way to relieve this new, unbearable pain.
As hot tears flood my vision, my voice breaking and dying mid-scream, I realize that my shoulder hurts so much now because he stabbed it with that twisted knife of his.
That bastard not only dislocated my shoulder, but then he fucking stabbed me in it!
How dare he?!
And, oh my God, I might never get to use my right arm again after this!
I’ll never be able to drive, or write, or play sports, or do much of anything ever again.
Azazel has already stolen so much from me when he has no right to, now this?!
Fuck him!
I’m gonna fucking kill him for this!
I’ve never hated anyone in my life this much and I’m gonna make him know how I feel about him!
Even John doesn’t compare to this bastard! I thought that John destroyed my life beyond repair when he sold me to Alastair, but Azazel is the true monster here. I’ve been hurt beyond belief in the 3 years I’ve been here, but at least Alastair has never caused permanent damage to me. He doesn’t want to hurt me like that, but Azazel just fucked me up in ways Alastair never would.
So, I’ll fuck him up in ways he’s never experienced!
Let’s see how he likes his own knife through his fucking heart!
With adrenaline and hatred fueling me, my pain seems to fade into the background, becoming nothing more than a dull ache as only one thought courses through my mind: find a way to kill Azazel.
After a few seconds of thinking, I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling, knowing how I can get Azazel’s guard down enough to kill him.
Time to kill Azazel using his endless greed and desire to take what isn’t his.
Before he dies, he’ll know that he shouldn't have tried to take me from Alastair. He knows Alastair doesn’t like to share, but he did this to me anyway. What an entitled prick. He could have had any other omega in this building to pleasure him, but he chose me. So, I’ll give him what he wants. I’ll give him the best blowjob of his Goddamn life, and then I’ll fucking end his life.
With an eerie calm settling over my entire being, helping me further ignore my pain, I give Azazel my most seductive and flirty smile while saying, “As much as I enjoyed your kisses, Master Azazel, I can do much better things with this mouth.”
“Oh, is that so?” Azazel asks with a large smirk, excitement and lust clearly broadcasted on every inch of his disgusting face. “It seems my brother has trained you well. Let’s see what you can do.”
Eagerly, Azazel clambers off me, jumping to his feet with surprising agility for his age.
Wow, he really wants this.
Well, he’s gonna get this and much more than he bargained for.
The second he looks down at me expectantly, I know that is my cue to move. With practiced ease and grace, I swiftly move off the bed and sink to my knees, placing my working hand at the small of my back the way Alastair taught me to. After all, his guests always find it hot if I use my mouth to take down their pants, not my hands.
As I slowly move forward, I make a show of sticking out my tongue to lick my swollen lips, trying to appear every bit eager and willing to do this.
For once though, I actually am looking forward to pleasuring someone. This might be the last time I ever have to do this. If this really works, I’ll be free from here, free from the frequent stream of guests who like to use me, free from Azazel’s grabby and violent hands, free from Alastair’s kind caresses that never cease to fuck up my head.
I could have my life back. I could find Sammy and we could get the hell away from my dad. When he turns 18, he can claim me as his omega and I’d be safe. I’d never have to do this again. I’d never have to be at the mercy of a stranger again. I’d never have to wonder again if I had behaved well enough to get food that day. I could just be… Dean Winchester again, big brother to Sam Winchester. There’d be no pain, no sex, no begging, no crying, no thoughts of dying. I… I could even be happy again. I… I could even be free again.
"Wow, Alastair must have fun with you, look how excited you are for this,” Azazel whispers in awe as I use my teeth to undo the fly on his jeans, purposely mouthing at his erection along the way to build his excitement. “If you're half as good as you look, we need to do this more often.”
By way of response, I just mouth at his bulge again, sucking in hard for good measure, feeling satisfied when he releases a needy whine.
Seeming too impatient for my foreplay, he grabs my hair and yanks my head away from his still clothed dick, then uses his other hand to rip down his pants with much more force than necessary.
Now that his clothes are no longer restricting him, his dick quickly springs up, already leaking a bit in its excitement.
As I stare at him for a few moments, waiting for the hand in my hair to guide me to my destination, I realize that he is much smaller than Alastair. In fact, he’s a hell of a lot smaller. Wow, that’s gotta be the smallest dick I’ve ever seen... Even if I wasn’t so well-practiced, I bet I could take the whole thing down without gagging even once. Yeah, he’s that damn tiny.
“Like what you see?” Azazel asks cheekily as the hand in my hair tightens.
Without hesitation, I vehemently nod my head, smiling at the sight of his dick.
This is gonna be a fucking piece of cake!
I was worried about this final blowjob at Azazel’s hands being hell, but I won’t have any trouble at all with taking down his whole, microscopic length.
I wonder if this is why he’s such an asshole. Maybe he likes beating up male omegas like me because he knows that, even though we should be biologically smaller, we’ve got bigger cocks than him.
I bet that pisses him off to no end, knowing he’s much smaller than me.
Or maybe he doesn’t actually know. Maybe he’s asking me if I like his dick because he thinks it’s the biggest and grandest one I’ve ever seen.
Oh, the irony; the biggest dick on the planet actually has a smaller dick than anyone else.
Before I can spend any more time making fun of his dick in my mind, he yanks roughly on my hair, lifting my head up to meet his gaze.
As he looks into my eyes, I give him another seductive smile, feeling satisfied as his tiny dick gives an excited jump at my smile.
Without being told, I open my mouth wide, relaxing my jaw as I wait for him to settle into place.
Sure enough, without any form of resistance, he slides into my mouth, groaning softly at the feeling of the warm, sticky heat.
Instantly, I swipe my tongue against his underside, feeling accomplished at the shuddering moan he releases.
Wow, this is gonna be the fastest blowjob of my life if he’s already coming undone.
With renewed vigor, I begin sucking and swirling my tongue, each second that goes by has increased frequency and volume of his sounds of pleasure.
After an embarrassingly short amount of time, his hips stutter and the hand in my hair tightens, telling me he is about to climax.
It’s fucking showtime!
With one large, frantic thrust into my mouth, his seed explodes, causing a hot, bitter liquid to gush down my throat, but I don’t pay it any mind.
As I begin swallowing and milking him through his pleasure, he screams in ecstasy, lost in his own little world.
His own little world that’s about to go up in fucking flames.
While still distracting him with my mouth, I move my left hand from behind my back, feeling giddy and excited and so fucking nervous and so fucking hopeful all at once.
Let’s fucking do this.
In one swift movement, I use my left hand to pull the knife from my shoulder and shove it into his stomach at his belly button, dragging the jagged knife across the entire length of his stomach. The moment the knife pierces his flesh, I stop sucking and bite down on his dick as hard as I can.
Instantly, his high of pleasure and screams of ecstasy turn into shouts of pure, unadulterated agony.
While still biting down on his dick, I pull the knife out of his stomach and throw it toward the window, not wanting him to use it against me once he recovers.
"FUCK," Azazel screams as he begins roughly slapping and scratching my face, but I keep biting as if my entire life depends on it, drawing a twisted satisfaction from mutilating his tiny, insignificant dick.
After a few more moments, I release him, knowing that I need to distance myself from him before he thinks about choking me, something that could kill me before he bleeds out.
While clutching his bloody stomach with both hands, trying hard to keep his blood and guts from spilling out, Azazel backs away from me, his face morphed by disbelief, pain, and hatred.
"You're fucking dead!” Azazel shouts as he slumps against the nearest wall, his face already looking extremely pale and ashen from blood loss. “When my brother sees what you've done to me, he’ll make you regret the day you were born."
“Oh no, I’m shaking,” I sneer as I quickly walk toward the window, knowing I need to get away from him as fast as possible, especially since someone might have heard his screams. “I’m getting the hell away from here; you or Alastair can’t touch me.
"How dare you?!” Azazel screams as I scoop the knife off the floor along my way to the window, spitting out a clump of his blood and semen as I smile sadistically. “I own you, you little bitch, you can’t do this!"
"No, you don't own me!” I shout at him as I open the window, shivering at the cold breeze, fresh air being something so foreign to me now. “I’m Alastair’s omega, not yours. He’s kind to me, but you're just a cruel bastard!"
"Fuck you!" Azazel screams as I use my knife to cut through the window screen, once again shivering as a bigger gust of wind tears through the room.
"See ya in hell," I taunt as I carefully start to climb out the window, ecstatic that I’m actually leaving this place behind.
When I’m halfway out the window, I look down at the ground below and, oh fuck, Azazel’s bedroom is on the second floor!
How am I supposed to get down safely?!
This fucking sucks!
I’ll probably break my fucking neck before I survive a fall like that.
After a few seconds of contemplation, I’m ripped from my thoughts as pain explodes through my lower back, white-hot agony flaring behind my eyes as tears rush to them.
Through blurry vision, I turn around and see that Azazel is holding a sleek, black pistol shakily in both hands, lining up another shot, this time for my head.
Oh my fucking God, he’s gonna shoot me, he’s gonna fucking kill me, we’re both gonna die and I don’t wanna fucking die and I have to get the hell out of here!
Fuck, I have to do it!
Oh fuck, is it better to die from being shot or becoming a fucking pancake?
Shit, it’s time to find out.
Goodbye cruel world.
At least I took this bastard down with me.
Without hesitating any longer, I lean to my left and begin plummeting down toward the ground, faintly hearing another boom of the gun over the rush of wind in my ears.
As I fall out the window, I can’t help but wonder if this is what true freedom feels like.
This rushing, entirely weightless feeling is terrifying, but also exhilarating.
It’s like knowing you’ll fail at something, but still trying to succeed because you have the freedom and willpower to go through with it.
Just like me trying to escape. I know I’m going to fail, that I’ll die any second now, but, in a sudden rush of courage and desire for freedom, I had to try.
I tried.
From an outsider’s perspective, it must have sounded like a loud thud, filled with snaps and cracks of breaking bones.
All I hear is ringing, loud and jarring, like a thousand trumpet players screaming in my ear, adding to the pain I already feel.
And then, I feel nothing, I see nothing but the whites of my eyelids, or maybe it's the white of the sky, or maybe it’s puffy white clouds of heaven.
Although, I always expected that I would go to hell.
Huh, I’m surprised.
Dully, I realize that my thoughts are too calm and collected for someone who is laying on the ground, broken bones and bleeding out and dying out and dying and oh fuck I’m dying I think I’m dying and I don’t want to die but hell I’m in a hell of a lot of pain and that means I’m probably fucking dying and fuck fuck fuck fu-
The trumpet players continue blaring their instruments in my ears, but, suddenly, it becomes morphed and twisted, the screams of the instruments suddenly turning into a man screaming.
That man sounds like he’s in a lot of pain.
Y’know, I’m in a lot of pain…
Wait, is that me screaming?
Is that why my throat feels like it is literally on fire?
Am I literally on fire, is that why I’m in so much agony?
Why am I in this much pain?
Oh fuck, that’s right, I just killed a man. I just stabbed Azazel, my master’s brother, and then I fell out a fucking window so he wouldn’t shoot me. Again.
Fuck, that’s right, he shot me in the back. My back is bleeding. I’m gonna fucking bleed out if I don’t move.
Okay, so I just gotta move. Easy, just use my good arm to prop myself up, then stand and walk away, preferably before someone comes outside and finds me and kills me because I really don’t wanna die but I still think I’m dying and oh fuck that’s right I don’t wanna die but I might die and I think I’m panicking because I don’t wanna die but I can’t stop panicking because I think I’m dying and please don’t let me die and I just have to move so I don’t die because I don’t want to die so let’s just stand up and move and get the hell out of here now!
"What was that?" I faintly hear someone ask from inside, the sound of their voice instantly causing me to panic.
Oh fuck, I have to move, I can't let them find me!
Okay, time to stand up.
Slowly, I use my good arm to push myself into a sitting position, feeling dizzy and nauseous at even that small movement.
Despite my pain and fatigue, I move to stand and, after rising up about halfway, I almost fall back to the ground, my left leg nearly buckling as fire hot agony shoots through it, starting at my ankle and traveling all the way up to my hip.
Pushing past the immense pain in my leg, I take a step forward, heavily favoring my other leg as I limply drag my left one behind me.
While hoping with all my heart that no one sees me, I begin slowly walking alongside the house, placing my left hand against the wall to support my weight as I limp along.
"What are you doing out here?" An unfamiliar female voice asks once I’m near the corner of the back yard.
"Master Azazel pushed me out the window, Miss," I say quietly as I continue limping forward, not wanting to turn around.
If she sees the blood on my shirt, she might realize what I’ve done to Azazel.
"Oh, dear! Are you okay?" The woman asks, the genuine concern in her voice confusing me.
"I... I don't know, Miss... I have to get back to him or he’ll punish me more," I whisper after a few seconds of hesitation, feeling guilty for lying, but she can't know the truth.
No one can know what I'm really doing.
No one can know how close I am to sweet freedom.
"Yes, of course. Good luck," the woman whispers, her words causing me to smile slightly.
I sure as hell need some good luck right now.
"Thank you, Miss. Good luck to you as well," I say with my smile still in place despite my pain, thankful for her small act of kindness.
I release a heavy sigh when I hear her footsteps retreat, followed by the backdoor closing again.
Hopefully no one else will notice me now.
I don’t think I can take another interaction as my head pounds and my hands tremble and my back bleeds and my leg aches and I just want to rest for a long, long time.
Slowly, I continue limping alongside the house until I reach the front.
With a discouraged sigh, I look around, seeing nothing but trees for miles. Of course his house would have to be in the fucking woods. Why couldn’t I just walk a couple doors down into the safety of another’s home?
Why does this place have to be out in the middle of nowhere? As if escaping wasn't already hard enough, now I have to find some sign of civilization, preferably before bleeding out.
Damn, this is going to be one hell of a journey.