Hospitality- Chapter 1

Bbbrrzztt!
Ash shot up to an upright sitting position at the sound, her bony scarred hand slamming on the alarm clock beside her. She swore under her breath, brushing some of her dark brown hair out of her face, chocolate-colored eyes narrowed in displeasure.
She yawned widely, thin fingers clasped tightly around the soft black sheets. She blinked at the harsh yellow sunlight that poured in through the window. The curtain had been pulled down, and she could see her dog, Sophie, chewing on one end of it while her other winged bunny, Droopy, tried pulling it away from the curly-haired pup with his paws.
The girl really didn't want to get up. Not now, maybe in a couple hours. Nightmares had haunted her dreams again last night. She felt exhausted, but it was already nine in the morning. If she didn't get up now, she'd have less of the day to do anything else.
So, of course, she hopped out of bed, smoothed the ebony sheets out, making sure no fold or wrinkle was visible, and trudged towards the bathroom to brush her teeth and untangle the knots in her hair. She pulled open the plain grey door and stepped inside, wincing at the feel of cold tile beneath her bare feet. It was oddly comforting though, as she continued on to the sink to carefully brush her sharpened teeth and run a comb through her hair.
It honestly took a while to make her hair look like she wanted it to, but soon she was out. Sophie and Droopy were now wrestling, not-so-gently nipping and biting at each other's ears and paws. Ash didn't bother changing yet. Her pajamas felt more comfortable than her casual wear, so she always wore them for just a bit longer.
Sophie and Droopy had finished wrestling, and Droopy had decided to now follow Ash to the kitchen, where she begrudgingly started to bake muffins. She was hungry and she wanted her muffins, damn it.
She got her wish soon enough though, and was sitting on the counter, quietly nibbling a chocolate-chip muffin. So wrapped up in her thoughts was she, that she had been scared rather badly out of her daydreaming by the annoying ringing of her cell phone, which was charging on its port next to her.
Agitated, she roughly tugged the slender black phone from its charger, accepting the unknown call and spitting out a moody, "What?"
"Ah, you must be Ash."
Something in her mind suddenly switched, courtesy of the darling Azazel, and her demeanor suddenly changed against her will. "Yeah, I am!" she replied cheerfully, "Who's this?"
"My name is Xavier." The other man—or young boy. Either it as a man with a very high voice or a teen--answered before continuing. "If I'm correct, you are an assassin or something, right? Or a sort of monster-hunter?"
"Yuup~! Whatchu' want?"
"Well, I just ask if you could do something for me and my village. There's been this creature roaming the forest and killing people and livestock."
"The Beast of Oaran?"
"Precisely."
Ash grinned to herself and patted Droopy's head, who had climbed up on the counter with her. "Cool. Oh, mind if we stay somewhere when we're there? Tracking can take a while."
"Of course, of course."
"Yay!"
And then the negotiating of price started.

Theus sat, wide awake, in his room. The basement, with its stone walls and floor. It was unbearably cold, and he could see his breath as he shivered, curled up into a ball and trying to salvage any warmth that the floor mercilessly sucked from him.
His body shook with ugly coughing, blood and spittle flying from between his lips. His throat ached, raw from screaming from his last dosage of torture, and the lack of water. Water would be wonderful, even though he didn't need it. He'd only had it twice before, and it had always felt like magic going down his throat. It worked wonders, it truly did.
The area around his neck became warm and wet, and he was suddenly and painfully aware of the stitches that were pulled, most likely from his aggressive coughing. Blood dripped onto the grey stone below him, and he desperately pressed his fingers against the gap, threads poking wildly out of the tips of his fingers and hurriedly stitching the wound shut again. She wouldn't like it if he made a mess. The rest of the room was so bloody already. Blood stains covered the floor and walls, most of it from him.
He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, trembling violently, his breath coming in uneven gasps. His teeth chattered together noisily, and he wished for some peace. Maybe some place warmer, without such a sadistic, cruel master? A tiny humorless smile tugged at the corner of his lips, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Yeah, right.
He buried his face in his arms, beautiful yet hopeless green eyes squeezed tightly shut. He could feel warm tears stream down his cheeks, pooling uncomfortably on his flat stomach and cooling quickly. He angrily rubbed the tears away, sobbing half-heartedly into his hands after.
It was all he did these days. These weeks, months… years? He didn't know how long he'd been here. There was no way to tell the time. He just knew that he almost never stopped crying. He cried when Ash hit him or stuck him with some sort of sharp object or sawed at his limbs with other blades with serrated edges, or just cried when she was yelling at him. Even when she wasn't there, he would sit and sob to himself. There really was nothing else to do. Get beaten, tortured, and cry. A whole lot of moping and brooding as well.
Surely there was more to life than pain and tears, wasn't there?
Right?
He shook his head at the thought, a soft unhappy laugh escaping his lips at the very thought. Maybe for other people, but not him. He was cursed to live eternally, live in pain forever.
And so he had to.
He instinctively cringed away when Ash came down. She barely glanced at him, pulling her black hoodie from a hook on the wall and slipping it over the tight red t-shirt she now wore, as well as black gloves different from her red ones. She had black jeans on too, as well as black boots that he knew concealed knives, like the rest of her clothes.
He saw her pocket a box—her collapsible ax—and a small case—potions, flesh-burning acid, the works—and whimpered. She shot him an annoyed look and walked over, grabbing his hair and jerking his head up.
Theus' eyes widened in pain, but he could make no sound. He could barely gasp with how she was now holding his head, angling it so far back. It created tremendous pain and it felt like his neck was about to snap.
Finally, after what felt like forever but was only a few seconds, she let go of his dirty hair, staring at him intently. At his blood-stained fabric skin, greasy, tangled hair matted with blood, and slightly crooked teeth. All her fault. She felt no remorse for her actions though, only grabbing his wrist and hauling him to his feet, glaring up at him as he was taller than her.
"You need to get cleaned up." She said, gripping his wrist so tightly that he cried out, dragging him up the stairs and to the bathroom.
She pulled off her gloves, shoving the puppet boy into the bathtub and turning on the water. The tub was now halfway filled, so now she took to rinsing his hair. He didn't seem very pleased with how the water soaked his fabric-skin, but said nothing.
It was only until she started scrubbing his hair with her soapy hands did he make a sound. Her sharp nails were scratching his scalp, rough fingers not the least bit gentle. It really did hurt, and he whimpered softly. She tugged his hair angrily, and he wailed unhappily.
"Shut up." Ash snapped, smacking him roughly across the face and dumping water over his head again. She tilted her head to the side, seeing Droopy curiously watching them from the doorway. "Out, Droopy."
But the bunny didn't listen. Instead, he darted forward, knocking over the jug of water and soaking himself. He let out a trilling screech and flailed, flapping his wings and darting out of the bathroom.
"DROOPY!" And so the chase began.
Theus stared after them curiously before directing his attention to the new bar of soap in his hands. He sniffed it. Of course, it smelled like candy. Almost everything in this house did. Blood or candy, you choose.
So, being the little ignorant slave puppet he was, he bit it.
Soap was not as tasty as he thought.

Ew.