Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Gravity Falls. They belong to Hiromu Arakawa and Alex Hirsch respectively. I only own the OC characters.

-------

It started out the same as it did before. The loud rattle of the door opening and closing, frantically scrambling to her knees to see what new torment their captor had in store for them. Or, for Ed, rather. She would always be spared, that much was clear. It succeeded in increasing the hollow pit of despair that sat in her gut.

This time, it was an electric chair. Like the ones used for executions. Complete with the metal dome above the occupant's head.

Katelyn cried out, oblivious to the tears streaming down her face. She knew begging wouldn't work, but she did it anyway. The shame of feeling pathetic flared up before quickly being squashed by ever-present fear. Just like before, the crude device was situated in the center of the room. Wires attached to the back of the chair ran off into the darkness. Her vision had adjusted slightly to the darkness so she could make out a large lever on the far wall, the wires connected to it. She hated it, hated the thought of a cruel machine like this being used on Edward. But the sting of metal around her wrists and ankles continued reminding her that she could do nothing about it.

After lowering Edward from the ceiling and detaching the hook, their captor dragged him to the chair, dumped him in it, and removed the manacles. She deftly secured his arms and legs into the cuffs on the armrests and the chair legs. Thick leather bands wrapped around his waist and neck. Katelyn worried it might cut off his air supply.

After she finished shackling Ed to the chair, she made her way to stand by the lever. She delicately rested a hand on its handle, taunting. "This thing only generates approximately four hundred volts, but the current is strong. It won't kill him, but it will certainly be excruciating." Then she pulled down on the lever.

The effect was immediate. Ed let out a bloodcurdling scream, one filled with pure agony. His body convulsed in the chair, the restraints holding him in place. His spine arched away from the wooden back. He was completely consumed by white-hot, burning pain.

Just when it seemed it would go on forever, it stopped. Ed panted heavily, completely winded. He could vaguely make out Katelyn's screams in the background. He did his best to conserve his strength, trying to still his limbs. However, as soon as the pain became a dull ache, the sound of the lever shifting was followed by all of it starting over again.

Katelyn screamed until her voice went hoarse, squirmed until the skin on her knees was shredded. Blood pooled beneath her, dripped down her neck, staining the white dress she was wearing. The pain itself being blocked by adrenaline and fear, she wrenched at her shackles as their captor pulled the lever up and down, over and over again. She barely gave Ed enough time to recover before hitting him with the next shock. It was a continuous cycle of agony and the anticipation of it.

After several hours of this torment, the woman finally stopped. She released Ed from the contraption, slapping on the manacles once again. The same routine of the meal, which always left Katelyn's stomach craving more. She reattached the hook, hoisted Ed back into the air. Leaving him swinging in open air. At least his wounds from last time had stopped bleeding.

The woman left, slamming the door. The sound made Katelyn flinch. Any sort of harsh sound or movement made her jumpy. It was one of the few times in her life that she was scared out of her mind. The weight of their situation came crashing down on her, and she could no longer hold in the sobs. Edward was not privy to it, having passed out from the pain.

-------

Every day was the same. It was cruel to call it routine, but that's what it became. Waking up to bear witness to whatever torment their captor decided to inflict on Edward. All she could do was watch, yanking hard on her chains, tearing open the skin where the cuffs were latched. The skin on her knees tore open, blood oozing from the wounds. But that pain was a drop in the ocean compared to the deep pit of despair and helplessness that grew inside her with each passing day.

The "lesson" that this stranger was trying to teach her seemed to be crystal clear. The methods used to educate her were certainly effective. She'd heard Ed's screams so many times that it was impossible to force them out of her head, echoing in her skull. She knew that this was what their captor wanted, to get her to believe that this was her fault, her fault for failing to protect this boy she had come to care so deeply for. Someone like him, after all he's been through, does not deserve to be chained and treated like an animal. She fought hard to keep her thoughts away from the memory of fire, of small, charred bodies, of two wooden crosses jutting up from the ground. No, he was much too young to have to live through something like this.

Speaking of which, how long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? It was hard to tell. All she knew is that it was too long. Too long to be locked away in darkness, away from the warmth of the sun. Her power was still out of her reach. Something was blocking it. She prayed to whatever god was listening that the others would find them soon, because she didn't know how much longer she could take this.

There was no shortage of cruelty from these horrendous methods of agony. The electric chair and the chair with the screws were used several times. There was one where their captor simply forced him to his knees and mercilessly lashed at his back with a whip, then savagely digging her nails into the open wounds. There was another where he was strapped upright to a column shaped like a cross, methodically slicing at his skin with a knife. Thick rivers of blood poured from every wound, collecting in large pools on the ground. There was even one where he was strung up in some wooden frame, spread-eagled and suspended, while the woman pressed burning coals into his flesh with a pair of tongs. Katelyn knew she would never get the stench of burnt flesh out of her mind.

And through all of this, she screamed and begged for the woman to stop, to have mercy, until her throat felt like it was being scorched from the inside out. Tears streamed down her face, an expression of heartbreaking desperation. But no matter how much she pleaded or struggled against her shackles their captor would not relent. Not even when she begged for her to inflict these tortures on herself instead. The woman ignored her, expression blank and emotionless. Her vicious nature knew no end, and they were both at its mercy.

Today was no different. Ed was currently perched on the seat of another wooden chair, this one inlaid with dozens and dozens of nails, points sticking outwards. He was still wearing the manacles, the ones around his wrists secured in place by the post holding up the back of the chair. He was trembling heavily, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Blood from where the nails punctured his skin stained the chair's wood a dark crimson. Sweat dripped out of every pore of his body, some parts of the bag over his head getting soaked. And, like always, Katelyn was screaming and struggling pointlessly.

Their captor appeared on Ed's right side, having finished locking the bar that secured his manacles to the chair. "Just relax," she said, tone cold and unfeeling. She bent down so that her face was level with the boy's head. "You've been through this before. It's not that hard." She placed a hand on his shoulder to push his back against the chair, nails piercing his flesh. He let out a whimper of pain, blood pouring from similar, healing wounds. Katelyn was surprised that the blood loss wasn't enough to make him disoriented.

She continued straining against her chains as their captor gripped a carapace hanging off the back of the chair. It was attached to the chair by rotating components. The carapace was also inlaid with nails, covering the inside surface. She knew what was to come next. However, her cries were dismissed, the woman swinging the carapace over Edward's head and pressing the sharp nails against his chest, the boy crying out in pain. The carapace was clicked into place with metal clasps, sandwiching his body between two different surfaces of sharp metal. Only his head and legs were visible, having to tilt his head back so as not to strike the carapace covering his chest.

When she was done, the woman left. That's how it had been the last time too. She would be gone for hours, leaving Ed to endure the trauma of several nails inside his skin. Blood streamed down his arms, legs, the chair, leaking from every single small wound. If he moved even an inch, the nails would be driven in deeper, making the wounds bigger. After the day was over (as far as they could tell), the woman came back and released him from the cruel device. Then it was the meal and back to being strung up like a slab of meat. He always twisted his wrists in the manacles in order to get loose, but it was to no avail.

As their captor walked out of the room to leave Ed to his agony, the boy emitted small, muffled whimpers underneath the bag. Katelyn stared at him as his breaths became shallower and faster, the whines increasing in volume. His muscles tensed up, and he cried out when that only served to push the nails deeper into his flesh. Katelyn swallowed hard. She knew a mental breakdown when she saw one.

She couldn't blame him. Her heart ached at the sight of him squirming in that hellish contraption. She could tell that the constant abuse was wearing him down. He was a kid, for gods' sake, he didn't deserve this. He deserved to be nurtured and loved, not tortured out of his mind at her own expense.

Wrestling with the turmoil raging inside her, she tried her best to sound as confident as possible. "Ed. Ed, listen to me." The boy's struggles ceased, as if he just remembered that she was there. He was still tense and shaking, but she had gotten his attention. That was a start. She drew in a shaky breath before continuing. "Don't worry about what's happening right now. Just focus on my voice. Alright?" Several seconds passed before she saw a tiny nod. She exhaled, a bit of tension leaving her body. "We'll get out of this, Edward. I swear it. I won't let you die here." And she meant it.

Then she talked for the rest of the day. She talked and talked, touching on just about every topic she could think of. She described her hometown, and her small but humble suburban house in Buffalo. She told him how Mabel had once tried to surprise her with her newest concoction, Sparkly Princess French Toast, and ended up nearly setting the kitchen on fire. She didn't stop, trying to distract him from their bleak situation to keep him from going completely off the rails. He eventually relaxed, and even occasionally snorted at her stories about all the crazy stuff she and Rosalin got into when they were children.

She never stopped talking, not until their captor returned to finish the day's "lesson."

-------

Author's Note: I bet people didn't expect me to update this. I decided to because I have a couple things lined up for Spooky Month this year. I haven't finished writing this yet though, even though it's going to be a long one. Still, I hope you enjoy this!

Praise is appreciated and constructive criticism is encouraged.

See you next time!

-The_Mayflower