there are worse things than death

                                        

                                              

                              
A cool, gentle wetness wiped my forehead, accompanied by a little raw pain but not followed by incapacitating or overwhelming agony like I expected. The groan slipped out before I could stop it so I forced open gummy eyelids.
                              

                              
“Don’t rush yet, your skull was cracked open, your wrist looks savaged, and you were shot. Give your body a brief respite before catapulting back into ferocious action.” The smooth voice from earlier chuckled. I took a second but managed to focus, seeing the same ugly exterior from before.
                              

                              
“Wh..ah!” I tried to ask but ended up clutching my head in pain. The bones in my skull jumped back into position with a sickening crunch, the shattered bullet squirmed out of my shredded hip where it fell to the floor as the bone knit back together, and my wrist gave an almost negligent twinge. All the while the ugly man was holding me still while my body was assaulted by healing. I felt absolutely exhausted, and suddenly sickeningly famished. The forced healing left my nerves twitching and I could taste ozone from a heavy magic working.
                              

                              
“There you go. Now that you’re all better, let’s clean you up.” He said as if I were a child. And he actually carried me from the weird bed thing to a washroom. The bath tub was huge, steps leading up to the edge of it and with enough room for a party to lounge in. Without any sign of hesitation he walked up to the steaming hot bath, stepped into it, and sat down with me still in his grip.
                              

                              
“Let me go.” I demanded with some feeble struggles thrown in. It was humiliating to feel this physically weak. The man held me tightly for a moment longer, and then let me go with a laugh; his point was obvious, he did what he wanted and only played along.  I scooted away from him quickly, still not strong enough to stand up let alone escape. At the opposite end of the tub from the ugly man, I finally got a good look at the room around the tub. It was all dark blue with silver flecks and finishing. It felt eerily like being immersed in a night sky. The man in the tub clashed with the room, the scars on his face were lumpy, uneven, and stained with keloid. His build was short, actually an inch or two shorter than me, but heavily muscled under loose black military pants and a fisherman’s sweater that disguised his bulk. At least they did until he sat in a bathtub and the fabric clung to him like an over affectionate kitten. The clothes were like the scars, hiding his real appearance. “Who, exactly, are you?” I frowned as I spoke. I didn’t like sitting in a warm bath with a complete stranger, but I couldn’t exactly propel myself out of here right now either.
                              

                              
“Well, exactly, I am called Brenin and I am the one responsible for your sister’s freedom and your captivity, and putting you in a bathtub.” He replied with an amused smile. His plain honesty surprised me; although Demonkin are like the Fae in that they cannot tell a direct lie, they certainly twist the truth so much that lying would be easier to listen to.
                              

                              
“Alright, why do you want to keep me captive?” I might as well try to take advantage of his plainly honest answers. I wasn’t prepared for a suddenly super intense stare that gave me the willies.
                              

                              
“Right now I want you to regain your strength; I’m even going to run some blood tests to test a theory. After that, it depends on what those tests reveal.” The bland smile he gave did nothing to make me feel any less paranoid, and I quickly became outright alarmed when he pulled his sodden sweater off to toss it out of the bath. “I need to check the wound in your hip. Since you’re already in the bath I recommend that you strip and clean yourself.” His tone was friendly and non-pressuring.