Fields of Clover

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Yevette Feilds

The branding iron presses into your shoulder blade and the searing agony steals the air from your lungs, sending your heart rate speeding and your head spinning as your anguished howl pierces the quiet night... "FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKK!"

The sizzling sound of the iron, the smell of melting flesh and the unbelievable pain overwhelm you instantly.. Your legs give out, as you slump limply in the henchmen's hold, if it weren't for their tight grip, you swear you would've slid right to the floor with your vision flickering and fading in and out as you black out for several seconds...

You gasp in a breath as you come to, right as the senator removes the scalding iron.. It feels as though he's tearing your flesh off along with it and another agonised shriek escapes your throat..
You don't recognise the sounds you're making as your own anymore, your collective injuries send painful sensations throughout your body as they begin to swirl and blend together.. You can't tell where one pain ends and the next begins as you screech and sob.. "Stop! God! No, please no.."

The branding iron clunks heavily to the bench next to your head where the senator drops it, you can still feel the intense heat radiating from its tip, washing over your face.. The stench of your burning flesh hangs in the air and an eerie quiet has come over everyone in the room...

You squeeze your eyes shut, the wound on your back starting to pulse and throb, as the blisters begin to form.. "Next my dear, you need to learn.." Michael's voice grows darker as he leans down to speak in your ear.. You feel his warm breath on your back and his scaly fingertips trace down your spine..

You squirm beneath his touch, struggling again now against the henchmen as his hand slips around your waist and into the front your panties, where he begins probing at you unpleasantly.. You press your legs together, trying your best to block his advances.. The humiliation and violation you feel in this moment surpasses that of any prior torments.. "How to please your master.."

"Noo.. No please.." He laughs his psychotic laugh once more as tiredness begins to seep into your muscles and bones.. The exhaustion of the last few days catching up with you, and the adrenaline that is keeping you alive - keeping you fighting - begins wearing thin... You want it to end.. You need this to all be over... Your life has been very little else but suffering, and now, the only escape you can see is death.. And honestly, you'd rather die than submit to this heinous old man..

He sneers.. "You're in for a real show, gentlemen.." Tugging against your restraints, harder now, you cringe as the senator shouts to his onlookers and you see the glint of a blade from the corner of your eye, before you feel the cool steel at your back, then your hip as he cuts away your underwear...

The guards whoop and cheer like excited frat boys at the sight of your shivering exposed body.. One guard even shouts, "Give it to her, boss!" You shudder, the burning pain of your brand silenced now by the fear of what is to come, as the senator attempts to force your legs apart with a bent knee and you hear the clink of a belt unbuckling..

"Soon your only problem will be that my son will provide no substitute for me, my dear.." He's so disturbed you can't even begin to unpick the insane Fraudian shit this guy has going on in his psyche..

Either way, his twisted game sends you over the edge, there is a limit to what you can endure, and it feels as though this may be yours, finally you snap..

A new intense rage begins bubbling inside you that you've never felt before, a rage the coils in your belly like a cobra ready to strike. You want Michael Ryan to suffer and feel the same pain he has inflicted on you.. "Your son is dead! Because I slit his throat back at Anderson's estate.. And pretty soon, you'll be joining him in hell!" You spit viciously.. Your only plan now - and it's a last resort plan - is to make him enraged.. Make him angry enough to simply kill you and forego the disgraceful assault he plans to carry out..

At least this way Patrick won't have to live with the knowledge of such an evil act having been committed.. And you won't have to live it.. Because you won't be alive.

You feel his posture stiffen behind you as the shock statement hits him.. "What the fuck did you sa--" The Senator's sentence is cut short by the sudden crashing sound of shattering glass, and without another sound he drops to the ground with a thud.. Just as you had predicted, joining his son in death..

The two guards holding your arms go down next, one after the other as more glass breaks around you and several men in dark clothes come crashing through the windows, drawing weapons and firing on the Senators team of guards..

The thunderous crack of gunshots going off and bullets flying is almost deafening and the bright flares of light flashing all around disorient you briefly.. "GET DOWN CHICA!" A loud voice booms and you barely have enough time to stand and turn before you feel an enormous weight crash against you, as Rameriez drags you to the floor.

You land on your hip with a pained yip.. When you turn your head to see what the heck just happened, your eyes meet directly with the blank dead stare of Senator Michael Ryan's open eyed corpse...
A river of crimson blood running from the bullet hole in the center of his forehead.. "Oh my god.." You scramble to your knees trying to get away from the lifeless body.. Ramirez flips the steel bench on its side and pushes your trembling form behind it..

He shrugs out of his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, the brand on your back burns in protest at the contact, but you ignore the pain and immediately slip your arms into the sleeves, fastening the zipper up to your neck.. "Stay down, Pequeña.." The tenderness in the big brute Rameriez's tone confuses you..

Why does he continue to contradict everything you think you know about him.. This supposed evil henchman, who now, doesn't seem quite so evil.. No, now when he looks at you, it's not cold or harsh at all.. It's full of concern.. worry..

"W-what--why--?" You can't settle on a question to ask, you have so many... But you don't have time to speak any further, because the door bursts open and two familiar faces storm into the room.. Archer West and Jackson Ford.. Ramirez jumps to his feet, pulling a pistol and moving off into the fray before you can say another word...

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