Becoming Sleepers (4/14)
Title: Twenty (No More) (4/14)
Series Title: Becoming Sleepers
Rating: R
Title: Twenty (No More) (4/14)
Series Title: Becoming Sleepers
Author: Cricket
Disclaimer: I’m just playing with Joss’ toys, but I promise to put them back when I’m done.
Rating: R for graphic (Reaver) violence and language
Notes: This is based on stormwolf-dawn7’s Sleepers (alt.version). Even if you decide to skip my story I highly encourage you to read (or re-read) hers. It’s amazing. Really.
It didn’t make sense. If the doctors wanted River to be raped and mutilated by a Reaver they would have just let the creature loose in her room, not cage it up with a timed lock. What were they playing at? It must be a puzzle, a test of some kind, but what did they want her to do? River was sure that she could figure it out, she was a genius after all, but the Reaver’s invading thoughts wouldn’t let her concentrate.
She glared at it through the corners of her eyes and gave a sigh of frustration. If only she could get it to quiet down. Sleep. Reavers must sleep eventually; maybe if it fell asleep soon it wouldn't be so loud. She looked back at it again. It had one hand through the bars and with a look of concentration on its face was trying to get to the panel that held the lock, but its arm was about five inches too short to reach it. It definitely didn't look tired.
An image of herself, spread eagle on the bed, bleeding as the Reaver pounded into her flooded her mind. She could hear the screams and cries it imagined she would make. "Stop," she whimpered and was surprised to find she had said it aloud, but was unable to contain herself. "Stop, please," her voice was hoarse and wouldn't rise above a whisper. With the very last of her strength, she pushed her vocal cords as hard as she could. A small noise from the back of her throat that started as a whine, escalated to a shriek, climbed into a yell and ended as a bellow. "STOP IT! NO MORE!"
A strange expression creeped over the Reaver's face that looked startling like a smile. She wanted to scream more at it but nothing beyond raspy breaths would pass through her lips. Her voice may have given up, but River still had plenty of frustration to vent. Her thoughts raged almost as fiercely as the Reaver’s had hours before. I'm not supposed to be here! This isn't my life. Those bastards think they can truss me up like a Thanksgiving turkey for this lunatic to feast on? NO MORE! Like a discharge of static electricity, she sent off a wave of seething emotions. All the anger, fear, disgust, frustration and bone-deep sadness that had been building up in her over the last year finally spilled out like water through a busted dam.
The Reaver jerked back as if it had been physically shoved, its shoulders slamming against the bars on the far side of its cage. River gasped. She lay wide eyed and staring into the cage. She had done that. She had affected the Reaver with her mind. It wasn't just a one way street between its mind and hers; she could send her thoughts to it too. The realm of possibilities had opened up so wide the claustrophobic atmosphere melted away and River felt as though the room extended for miles. She wasn't confined by her physical limitations. This is what the doctors wanted her to figure out. Her mind was the only tool she had left and they wanted her to use it.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath River steeled herself for being inside the Reaver's mind. She closed her eyes and focused on the horrible images the Reaver was projecting. Like breadcrumbs through a darkened forest, she followed the trail of thoughts back towards the Reaver. Its mind was wide open and she easily slipped inside. Being in its mind was the strangest sensation River had ever experienced, she didn't see her surroundings so much as she could feel them. It wasn't the kind of feeling associated with touch, though. It was something completely different.
She imagined herself inside its head, a large room filled boxes, some held thoughts and some held functions. She just had to find the correct box. She saw a large pile of containers dripping with blood and jerking spasmodically as if holding some unseen creature. She tried not to look at those ones as she passed by. The thoughts projected from its mind to hers had come from whatever was in these loudly screaming boxes. She slinked past its conscious thoughts and quietly found the part of its brain that controlled its biological functions. These boxes were bigger and hummed quietly as if they were filled with efficient machines.
Lifting the lid of one of these boxes she found the inside to be dark and shadowed to the point where she couldn’t actually see what was inside. Nevertheless she reached her hand in and felt around until she found a lever. River was not entirely sure what she was doing but she let her instincts guide her. She gently pulled the lever and felt the tension drain out of her body as the volume in the room and the pressure in her head dimmed.
< Previous: chapter 3: Twenty-two (Skin) | Next: chapter 5: Eighteen (Boxes)>
Series Title: Becoming Sleepers
Rating: R
Title: Twenty (No More) (4/14)
Series Title: Becoming Sleepers
Author: Cricket
Disclaimer: I’m just playing with Joss’ toys, but I promise to put them back when I’m done.
Rating: R for graphic (Reaver) violence and language
Notes: This is based on stormwolf-dawn7’s Sleepers (alt.version). Even if you decide to skip my story I highly encourage you to read (or re-read) hers. It’s amazing. Really.
It didn’t make sense. If the doctors wanted River to be raped and mutilated by a Reaver they would have just let the creature loose in her room, not cage it up with a timed lock. What were they playing at? It must be a puzzle, a test of some kind, but what did they want her to do? River was sure that she could figure it out, she was a genius after all, but the Reaver’s invading thoughts wouldn’t let her concentrate.
She glared at it through the corners of her eyes and gave a sigh of frustration. If only she could get it to quiet down. Sleep. Reavers must sleep eventually; maybe if it fell asleep soon it wouldn't be so loud. She looked back at it again. It had one hand through the bars and with a look of concentration on its face was trying to get to the panel that held the lock, but its arm was about five inches too short to reach it. It definitely didn't look tired.
An image of herself, spread eagle on the bed, bleeding as the Reaver pounded into her flooded her mind. She could hear the screams and cries it imagined she would make. "Stop," she whimpered and was surprised to find she had said it aloud, but was unable to contain herself. "Stop, please," her voice was hoarse and wouldn't rise above a whisper. With the very last of her strength, she pushed her vocal cords as hard as she could. A small noise from the back of her throat that started as a whine, escalated to a shriek, climbed into a yell and ended as a bellow. "STOP IT! NO MORE!"
A strange expression creeped over the Reaver's face that looked startling like a smile. She wanted to scream more at it but nothing beyond raspy breaths would pass through her lips. Her voice may have given up, but River still had plenty of frustration to vent. Her thoughts raged almost as fiercely as the Reaver’s had hours before. I'm not supposed to be here! This isn't my life. Those bastards think they can truss me up like a Thanksgiving turkey for this lunatic to feast on? NO MORE! Like a discharge of static electricity, she sent off a wave of seething emotions. All the anger, fear, disgust, frustration and bone-deep sadness that had been building up in her over the last year finally spilled out like water through a busted dam.
The Reaver jerked back as if it had been physically shoved, its shoulders slamming against the bars on the far side of its cage. River gasped. She lay wide eyed and staring into the cage. She had done that. She had affected the Reaver with her mind. It wasn't just a one way street between its mind and hers; she could send her thoughts to it too. The realm of possibilities had opened up so wide the claustrophobic atmosphere melted away and River felt as though the room extended for miles. She wasn't confined by her physical limitations. This is what the doctors wanted her to figure out. Her mind was the only tool she had left and they wanted her to use it.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath River steeled herself for being inside the Reaver's mind. She closed her eyes and focused on the horrible images the Reaver was projecting. Like breadcrumbs through a darkened forest, she followed the trail of thoughts back towards the Reaver. Its mind was wide open and she easily slipped inside. Being in its mind was the strangest sensation River had ever experienced, she didn't see her surroundings so much as she could feel them. It wasn't the kind of feeling associated with touch, though. It was something completely different.
She imagined herself inside its head, a large room filled boxes, some held thoughts and some held functions. She just had to find the correct box. She saw a large pile of containers dripping with blood and jerking spasmodically as if holding some unseen creature. She tried not to look at those ones as she passed by. The thoughts projected from its mind to hers had come from whatever was in these loudly screaming boxes. She slinked past its conscious thoughts and quietly found the part of its brain that controlled its biological functions. These boxes were bigger and hummed quietly as if they were filled with efficient machines.
Lifting the lid of one of these boxes she found the inside to be dark and shadowed to the point where she couldn’t actually see what was inside. Nevertheless she reached her hand in and felt around until she found a lever. River was not entirely sure what she was doing but she let her instincts guide her. She gently pulled the lever and felt the tension drain out of her body as the volume in the room and the pressure in her head dimmed.
< Previous: chapter 3: Twenty-two (Skin) | Next: chapter 5: Eighteen (Boxes)>