Haunted Wood Cruel through the day

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Sexual abuse and murder themes in the button. Can be sensitive content.

Her mind whirred. It stomped and screamed, restless in the shackles of where she'd squirreled away her deepest, darkest thoughts. No, not just thoughts. Memories.
Memories of what happened to her. Memories of the time she was stuck. Captured. 
The screams of her past would not quell.
And nothing soothed it so.

She writhed in the hole they'd shoved her in. The walls closing, shrinking around her. She couldn't get out without being caught, there was nothing before her but darkness and dirt. Her limbs could barely move in the tight space of the hole.
Sharp teeth dug into her back legs, pulling on her. She tried to scramble backward to stop the pain, but still, she was dragged.
She needed to run.

She turned, teeth bared at the man, scathing across his face. Still he held on. Others came, baying and snarling. They towered over her disheveled body, nipping at her skin, causing welts of blood. She shrieked at them, snarling and trying to lift up to fight them. To fight the cowards.
But as soon as she did, the dragged her head down, biting hard into the back of her neck. One mounted her from behind, her head still forced to the ground, being forced from behind to appease a fucking man. 
Still, she snapped her teeth like a shark, still she wriggled and fought against the hounds around her. They wanted her to bear children. To make her distressed, in pain, to make her be stuck with a reminder of them. Of what they had done to her.

The birthing den stunk of blood. Of flesh, dirt and shit. She looked at them. The writhing beans, screaming for her like she'd screamed that night.
Screaming for warmth and love.
They were not made in such way, so deserved nothing of the sort but hatred and disgust.
Vanity snapped up her children - all of them - chewing the screaming newborns, swallowing them all. Back to where they came.

She stood, panting, heaving against a tree outside the den. She'd thrown up in her disgust, but it wouldn't bring back what she'd done. What she had done. What they had done. Her children, gone. She'd eaten them.
Her ruby eyes had blurred vision as she wept. Wept her sorrows. Her hatred. Within her den, her two  young, beautiful and healthy, slept. Arwen and Leshen. Probably not soundly. But safely.

Vanity wandered off through the forest, absent in her mind. In her being.
What she had done.