Anonymous POV
I was forced to prove my masculinity, but my heart broke when your spirited laughter, no more filled the empty halls.
I witnessed, I laughed along, I tagged with the gang to be someone.
I wanted to help you get on your knees and bruta...
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Amara:
"P-please, what do you w-want from me love? Let's talk about this for in-in a better manner no?" The man, in his mid-thirties, tied tightly to the neck of the chair, pleaded between his sobs, frantically shaking his hands to loosen the zip tie I secured to his wrists. Tears trickled down his face as the now-ending song, blared from downstairs, cancelling his requests.
"What I need for you to do, is to stay very still and very low" I instructed him with my back facing him, as I selected my mode of torture for tonight from the rusty table, that had various articles placed upon it. From different types of knives to different types of acids ... And a glass of water. "Can you do that for me, darling?" I turned to face him with a sharp-edged cleaver in my hand, which caused him to let out an audible gasp, fear striking his whole body.
As I advanced towards him, the sound of cheap plastic underneath my foot made noise, his hands twisting in directions, hoping to loosen the zip tie which caused his wrists to damage themselves even more.
"Now, now" I moved my finger up and down the edge of the knife, inspecting the sharpened side to see how deep it can go. "Don't hurt yourself this way, that's for me to do" I walked over to the table adjacent to his chair and placed three bottles of hydrochloric, nitric, and sulfuric acid, in their increasing order of impairing capacity.
"All you have to do... is tell me where the drugs are." My stern voice echoed in the room, with only his sobs being the second source of sound due to the fading music from the frat party downstairs.
"You've got three chances, and therefore three wickets. If you get the answer wrong..." I placed both my hands on either side of the arms of the chair so my light blue eyes pierced right through his brown ones. "...you're out."
"Keep this in mind, Mr Strong ...I will be brutal." The man started shaking in fear with my intimidation as I shot him an evil smile.
"Now." My right hand travelled up to his bruised and bloody face, and my left, knife-occupied hand, down to his abdomen bothering his abs with the sharp object. "Where are the drugs?"
I knew the answer to that, but I adore torturing bad men. You can't get away with one truth when all your life is a calculated pile of lies.
A new song started to blare through the speakers, which I took as a sign to begin.
"I d-don't know any-" My knife penetrated three inches deep into his hairy skin, right across his abdomen, very slowly cutting open his surface. The man endured the discomfort first few seconds and let out a harsh grunt, followed by an agonisingly loud scream, giving in and opening his lungs to take over.
His screams got louder and louder as more painful it got for him to sustain the ache in his body, struggling to stay conscious.
"One down. Two to go." I whispered seductively by lowering my mouth to his ear.
