And here we go down the rabbit hole... Remember at the beginning of the last chapter when I said that one and the next one would be rough? Well, this is the roughest one yet. 

IF YOU NORMALLY SKIP NOTES, DON'T!!!!!! READ THE BELOW!!!

****If you have triggers when reading books involving sexual abuse and dark and disturbing fantasies that live inside the mind of a monster, then SKIP this chapter. You can continue reading the story and you will not lose any of the story line. In fact, I would recommend it to you. ****

If you can handle it, then venture into the mind of what is shaping up to be Scarlet's most fierce foe. Is he just a sick obsessed fan? Or will he get his hands on her?

***Trigger Warning. Sexual abuse, taunting and non-con/con rape. To be ABSOLUTELY clear; I do NOT condone this behavior or approve of it. Know your limits and take care of yourself. ***

Take care of yourself. Know you limits and stay safe. ! With love~ CANGEL

***

The Capitol

Alistair Paine

     Alistair Paine wanted her alive.

     In the privacy of his opulent Capitol mansion, he stared at the frozen screen displaying the 67th Hunger Games. Scarlet Wolfe's naked, battered body stared back at him, captured mid-movement as she deliriously attempted to remove her wet clothing from her body.

     The slit in her side, red and swollen, trailing blood down her leg to the snowy ground beneath her. Bruises marred her delicate throat, a testament to her struggle with the now-dead tribute who had begged for Scarlet's attention. If she hadn't killed him, he would have. His fingers itched to cover those marks with his own, to feel the life ebb under his grip, and show her how it felt to be at the mercy of a man, instead of a boy.

     Ten red lines streaked across her back, swollen from the constant activity in the Arena. Lashes. His lips curled at the beauty of the work and the thought of adding more, imagining her pale skin crisscrossed with his own handiwork. How many would it take to make her beg? What would he make her beg for?

     His cock swelled in his pants uncomfortably as he remembered the sound of his name coming from her lips in the days before the Arena. He recalled the glint in her eyes and the curve of her sinfully defiant mouth.

     He could almost taste her defiant, and a groan left him as he imagined stealing it from her full lips. He wanted to take her. Break her and bend her to his will.

     She would be a challenge, and it had been far too long since he had found himself with one of those.

     Alistair Paine would enjoy it so much; making her beg.

     His reverie was interrupted by the crying from his bedroom and the sound grated on his ears. He liked their tears and their fear, and he especially liked their begging, but the crying—the crying was intolerable.

     He stood, annoyance flooding his veins, and grabbed his leather whip. He had commanded silence. Disobedience must be punished.

     Walking down the hallway, the crying grew softer, replaced by the girl's begging as she heard his footsteps approaching. Her pleas would go unanswered, of course. After all, she would still need to learn her lesson, but they did relieve him of some of the annoyance. Her begging was oh so nice.

     He entered the room to find her cowering at the base of his bed, a rope wrapped around her ankle, keeping her from wandering too far. She looked up at him with hazel eyes, rich with glorious fear that sent a secret thrill through his body. Every inch of her body was shaking as tears streamed down her face. Her head jerked down to the ground, removing her eyes from his naked person, her black hair sliding down to the floor, shielding her from his gaze. As if that would save her.

     He took a moment to take her in. It had taken some time to find one that resembled what he wanted. Small and petite with a thin body that showed nearly all of her bones, her size and malnutrition hiding her older age and making her appear younger.

     Though he picked her because she so closely resembled the one, he truly wanted, there were some things that could not be replaced or mimicked. Alistair had barely placed his hands on her before she'd started begging for him to stop and the utter lack of challenge nearly had had him soft and infuriately unable to continue. Then he saw her tears, for all the girls' faults, she had such beautiful tears, making the decision rather easy for Alistair.

     He had played for a while, reddening her skin and making more of the pretty tears fall before leaving her alone to watch more of the Hunger Games—luckily, he did, or he might have missed the near death of the object of his desire and the teasing strip she unknowingly provided him.

     Alistair lifted the girls chin to meet his gaze, allowing her to meet his gaze. "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" The question rolled off his tongue, smooth as silk. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she clamped her mouth shut as her body shuddered with silent sobs.

     "Good girl," he purred, wiping her tears away. He set the whip down, a different idea forming. As he unlocked the handcuff from her wrists, he could tell she had gotten the wrong idea.

     It thrilled him to see the hesitant hope that flooded her eyes as she thought he was finished with her. Only to watch as it was crushed as his fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. She whimpered, and he shook his head, tsking her inability to listen.

     "You just don't know how to obey, do you?" he whispered. Her frantic apologies spilled out, promising better behavior. He laughed as he pressed her to the ground, spreading her thighs with his knees as he brushed a finger over her lips.

     "Not yet, Pet," he said, his hand moving to her exposed throat. His hands are large compared to her slim frame and he knew that it would be able to enclose fully around her neck.

     He could crush her. Kill her. End her life.

     A rush of heady power filled Alistair.

     He won't. Killing had costed him quite a bit in the past. He'd learned some control, at least. Instead, he had to be satisfied with the knowledge that he could kill them. He simply chose not to. And the knowledge that they would live while remembering all his lessons...

     Well, that was better than killing.

     He pressed down and squeezed his fingers, cutting off her air supply.

     "Now, scream, Pet." He whispered to her, laughing when her mouth opened to do exactly what he said, as he pushed his cock inside her, only to find her voice stolen along with her innocence.

     His Pets were always tamed when they left him. They were always broken and obedient.

     And he couldn't wait to make Scarlet Wolfe his Pet.

---------------------

I won't make a long rant. Just a reminder to purge your thoughts and feelings in the comments. This chapter is meant to be disgusting. It's meant to be dark and gross and horrible and absolutely disgusting. 

Maybe some therapy ideas? See below.

How about picking the worst way for him to die?

Let me reiterate that I do not condone his actions, but the purpose of this chapter is to give you insight into the man who will be the villain in both Finnick and Scarlet's life for many years to come. 

Take care and stay safe! ~CANGEL