There were times when Jayfeather hated being blind more than others. Some days he didn't care. He knew the territory well enough to get around without sight. But it was the nights like this that he really hated it.

He was pinned to the ground, feeling the patter of rain drops on his pelt, and the mud creeping up to touch his belly. He couldn't see anything, and he couldn't feel anything familiar. All he could feel was the sharp claws on his head - scratching hard enough for it to hurt, but never enough to do any real damage.

He growled, struggling slightly, but to no avail. He wasn't strong enough, and he could never fight back. "W-why!"

He heard a laugh above him as the claws on his head lowered to his back. He hissed when they dug in slightly, and he swore he could feel the blood oozing out of his wounds. "Why? Why, you ask?" He felt breath on his ear as the other cats leaned closer to him. "Because I love you, of course."

Jayfeather let out an empty laugh. "Yes, of course." That was always the answer he got. But love? There was no love in this relationship. Only pain. He was a medicine cat, though, so he knew how to hide the wounds. No one suspected anything ever happened to him.

For a moment, he wondered if StarClan did this to him to punish his mother. For a moment, he wondered if StarClan was angry with him, because he was too powerless to push his 'lover' away. Was forced love the same as real love according to StarClan?

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt teeth dig into his scruff. He grunted and thrashed when he felt the slightest bit of freedom, but there still wasn't much he could do. The other cat dragged him for a moment, flipping him onto his back. Jayfeather was well aware of would would happen next.

Breezepelt had a pattern to his torture, you see.

It always started with mean words. He loved to see Jayfeather squirm and cry out just at the harsh things Breezepelt said to him. It gave him some sick satisfaction, but never as much as it did when he began to tear his flesh. Breezepelt always started with his head. Clawing and ripping. He didn't want to kill Jayfeather, though. Never kill, just hurt.

After clawing his skull for a while, Breezepelt would work on tearing his back, never leaving horribly noticeable scratches. He was very careful about his work. He didn't want anycat to find out what happened to Jayfeather during their meetings.

The belly, though, was the part he really enjoyed. There were places all over Jayfeather's underside that he could scratch and bite, and nocat would ever see the mark. He could get away with anything there, so he always made a point of attacking his belly last.

A scratch here, and a scratch there... He licked his lips at the sight of blood dripping from the deep wounds. He bent his neck to lick the stray drops off of Jayfeather's fur, purring at the familiar taste. He continued to lick, giving a nibble here and there to bring about more blood. He continued this for a moment before murmuring quietly. "Oh, Jayfeather... you know I do love you, right?"

Jayfeather let out another empty laugh. "Yes... of course."