AOD: Sanctum Nocturum

Actually Prologue

\"Fiat Justitia, ruat caelum\"

Let justice be done though the heavens may fall

Motto of the Angels of Death

Epilogue

Fortune turned her back to the cold dawn and leaned against a wall. The apartment was sparsely furnished, shabby, no getting away from that. Or getting away from the water stains scarring the roof, the cigarette holes burnt into the carpet, the way the disconnected yells and screams echoed off the walls as the downstairs neighbours went at it again. So lonely and desolate, despite the people dotting the room in various stages of rest.

\"Come away from the window.\" Darrell moaned somewhere from the murky darkness within. \"Come back to bed.\"

Fortune didn\'t move. They\'d been strung out for days, time mixing with light and dark until she didn\'t even have the faintest idea of whether it was Monday night or Friday morning. Darrell got high, he ate, he got high, he defecated. They had sex. She watched TV on the broken little TV set that sat in the corner. The others fed off them. Darrell got high again.

They were in limbo.

\"For Christ\'s sake! Get the fuck away from the window!\"

Fortune wrapped her arms about herself. Bruises blackened the upper biceps, descending down over her forearms, tiny puncture marks just barely visible in the stark light. It was hard to think, hard to concentrate on her surroundings, a strange feeling of unreality permeating everything, like she was drifting away.

When was the last time she had truly slept?

The blow caught her across the face, sending her to the dirty carpet.

\"Stupid bitch.\" Darrell cursed as he sent a cruel kick into her stomach, propelling her onto her back.

\"Leave her alone Darrell. You know she\'s a retard.\"

Darrell ignored the feminine plea and placed his foot squarely on Fortune\'s wind pipe, increasing the weight and pressure. Fortune\'s face turned red and her fingers clawed at his bare foot, her mouth open on a soundless cry as she desperately tried to breathe.

Slowly, the other occupants of the apartment came forward, as hazed, strung out, and unobservant as the rest of the Darrell and Fortune. Dully the watched as Darrell tortured the poor woman, pressing down with his foot until it looked as though she would pass out, easing off so that she could gasp in a few precious lung fills of air, and then squeezed it off once more, ending any protests. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to focus on her surroundings, keeping everything in perspective as the world darkened and swirled about her.

\"Stupid bitch has to learn.\" Darrell growled, increasing the pressure with his foot.

Everything around Fortune turned a fuzzy black and she could hear a faint whispering.

\"Come to me child. Come to me and let me be free.\"

\"Stupid bitch has to learn not to fuck with me.\"

Fortune felt her heart slow to a halt.