Welcome to a new part Demon World unedited. We start right where we left of last time.
The last time she had drunk her potion, she had been chained as well.
She had woken up on the cold and humid floor of an American village
prison. She was almost naked, they had removed her witch ceremonial
purple dressed and had dressed her with a bare white shirt that wasn’t
going further down than the top of her legs. She felt ashamed of having
been seen naked by men, she didn’t remember what they had done to her
while she was unconscious but her entire body was painful. She had blood
on her elbow and knees and on the tip of her finger as if she had been
scratching her nails against the walls. She huddled up slowly, pulling
on the chains at her ankles and wrist. Her mind was feeling empowered by
the new awareness the potion had given her, by the knowledge of the
universe outside and inside of her, by seeing herself in warm and happy
places way back in the past and long later in the future, but she felt
as if she couldn’t rejoice for her success, it had been taken away from
her, it had been taken at the moment she had drunk the potion, when they
other didn’t, when she had heard the laugh coming from behind the
trees.
That laugh was the sound of ethic and moral in this world, that laugh was coming from the man people looked up at every week as they went to church, he was the man in contact with god, he had the knowledge and power which was refused to most, he could read and he had been given the keys of god’s house. He was the kind of man who would follow innocent girls in the wood at night and wait until he saw them doing their mischief before stopping them. He could have stopped them many times and he could have taught them the right way. He could have taken away the potion and sent them back to their parents, he could have talked and explain, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would talk and explain. He was the honorable sense of justice, he was rising against all perversion in this world, he was the one making them pray for mercy more than for happiness, and he was the one who would take the girls from their sacred place in the forest, strip them from their clothes hurting their body while their mind was away and locking them, half naked, chained in a cold and dirty prison cell.
That laugh was the sound of ethic and moral in this world, that laugh was coming from the man people looked up at every week as they went to church, he was the man in contact with god, he had the knowledge and power which was refused to most, he could read and he had been given the keys of god’s house. He was the kind of man who would follow innocent girls in the wood at night and wait until he saw them doing their mischief before stopping them. He could have stopped them many times and he could have taught them the right way. He could have taken away the potion and sent them back to their parents, he could have talked and explain, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would talk and explain. He was the honorable sense of justice, he was rising against all perversion in this world, he was the one making them pray for mercy more than for happiness, and he was the one who would take the girls from their sacred place in the forest, strip them from their clothes hurting their body while their mind was away and locking them, half naked, chained in a cold and dirty prison cell.
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